Ivory Nation, Andy Maslen [e manga reader .txt] 📗

guilt and relief, Gabriel followed him, shooting the odd apologetic glance and shrugging his shoulders. What can I do? He took my bag!

At the head of the queue, the attendant blew ferociously on a silver whistle. The next cab trundled alongside him. The attendant turned to Gabriel.

‘Where are you staying, Sir? Crowne Plaza? Hilton? InterContinental?’

‘Beau Rivage.’

The attendant beamed.

‘Ah, Beau Rivage. Beautiful hotel. Very good choice.’

He turned to the driver who was waiting with his window rolled down, a hand holding a cigarette dangling out.

‘Beau Rivage. Il est Anglais. Conduit prudemment!’

Gabriel smiled to himself. Whether the attendant told all the cabbies to drive carefully, or just those carrying ‘les Anglais’, he didn’t know. But he was grateful, just the same.

With his suitcase loaded into the boot, and a five-dollar bill passed discreetly to the parking attendant, he slid into the car’s stuffy interior. In the absence of working air con, the driver had opted for an incense burner on the dashboard, which emitted the fragrant smell of frangipani into the cabin.

Gabriel paid the driver, retrieved his suitcase and stood on the pavement as it roared away into the traffic, horn honking, all thoughts of ‘conduit prudemment’ clearly forgotten.

Behind him, the Mekong stretched away in a graceful curve. A few fishing boats and pleasure craft plied the wide brown waterway. On the far bank, the Thai bank he reminded himself, nothing but jungle, stretching down to the water’s edges as far as the eye could see.

Before him, the hotel entrance, a pagoda made of thick bamboo logs painted a deep blush pink. A matching sign proclaimed Hotel Beau Rivage Mekong in purple type on a paler-pink background.

Gabriel passed beneath humming power lines that dangled dangerously close to the ground. His scalp prickled and he caught the after-lightning smell of ozone.

He checked in and made his way to the room Eli had booked for them. Standing outside, he felt a delicious squirm of excitement in the pit of his stomach. Jesus! Haven’t felt like this since going on teenage dates. He raised his right hand and knocked with his knuckle.

He heard footsteps, then the door opened inwards and there was Eli, grinning from ear to ear. She’d put her hair up, a style she knew he loved. And she was wearing makeup: sooty kohl around those grey-green eyes, and mascara to emphasise them still further.

‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said.

‘Hello, handsome.’

She threw her arms around him and squeezed him so tightly he felt the breath leave his body.

‘Whoa! Let me go, I can’t breathe.’

He managed to struggle inside and closed the door behind him with his heel.

Eli kissed him, hard on the mouth, then again, more softly. She smelled of sandalwood and lemon. Gabriel closed his eyes and let himself be lost in the moment, savouring the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed flat against his. Felt the stirrings of an erection. She pressed against him harder and brought his ear close to her lips.

‘I want you. Right now.’

Afterwards, Eli propped herself up on one elbow. Her up-do had turned into a half-up-half-down-do, auburn spirals sticking to her neck. Her eyes were shining.

‘You OK?’ Gabriel asked.

‘Yes. Actually, no. I’m not OK. OK is for ordinary people. I’m…’ She looked up at the slowly revolving ceiling fan, ‘…nifla!’

‘Nifla? That’s Hebrew, right?’

‘Duh! It means awesome. That’s how you make me feel, Gabe.’ She leaned down and kissed him. Not with the fierce passion of their lovemaking. This was soft, her lips yielding to his.

‘Ani ohev otakh,’ she said. ‘I love you.’

‘Ani ohev otakh,’ he repeated with a smile.

How was it possible to live this life and still find time to fall in love again? He asked himself the question, then dismissed it. It just was. Eli just…was. It worked, and that was what mattered.

‘What time is it?’ she asked.

‘Midday. Where’s Stella?’

‘She went into town. I said we’d meet her in the bar later. She’s going to text me when she gets back. Let’s save mission talk till we’re together. It’ll save doing it all twice.’

‘Agreed. Now, Miss Eli Schochat, I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling so nifla I think I’d like to go again.’

Eli’s eyes popped wide. She grinned.

‘Why, Mr Wolfe, what a big…’ she reached beneath the covers and squeezed him, ‘… you have.’

‘All the better to ravish you with,’ he growled.

Later, while Eli slept beside him, Gabriel checked his emails. Just one, from Don.

Subject line: Pennant

Hello Old Sport,

Interesting little souvenir your man Yusuf had in his factory. It’s from the Boer Freedom and Rights Party. That’s what the Afrikaans means.

The BVR is a white separatist movement based in the Northern Cape. Small, but vicious. They’ve been implicated in the murder of several black politicians and at least two journalists.

The leader’s a charming young fellow. Goes by the name of Julius Witaarde. Surname means ‘White Earth’ if you can believe it. Sounds like a nom de guerre to me.

Believe or not, we don’t have anything else on them. Not really our sphere of interest, you might say. Six wasn’t much help either. The BVR is, and I quote, ‘SLAFA’: ‘small, local and far away’.

Follow it up.

Yours, aye,

Don

Guests at Beau Rivage could always opt to dine in the city, but not many bothered. The Spirit House restaurant offered some of the best cooking in Vientiane and the best view. Traffic in diners came the other way.

Tables on a terrace across the road from the hotel looked out over the vast Mekong as it flowed towards its delta in Vietnam, eight hundred miles to the south.

One of those tables, separated from its neighbours by ten feet, thanks to a US-currency-smoothed intervention with the restaurant manager, was currently occupied by Gabriel, Eli and Stella.

Beneath a wide parasol, citronella candles did a reasonable job of keeping the mosquitos at bay, assisted by liberal applications of weapons-grade insect repellent. To the west, a sunset of orange, pink, purple and green had drawn dozens of tourists to take photos. Charcoal-grey clouds speared horizontally across the