Assignment - Karachi by Edward S. Aarons

the women were less emancipated than those on Victoria Road and wore dopattas, long headcloths that fell to the shoulders, and even burkas, the heavy veils that have two holes in the face to see through. She paused, turned, bumped into a tall man wearing an immaculate white sherwani, a frock coat buttoned at the upstanding collar. His Jinnah cap and white hair made him look like a specter in the noise and heat.
    “If you are looking for a bargain, madame—”
    “No, no.” She tasted panic. “I was trying to get back to the Metropole Hotel.”
    “Perhaps a taxi, then.”
    “I’ll walk, thank you.”
    He bowed and left. Turning, she went quickly back the way she had come. On Victoria Road again, among the shops and greater percentage of Europeans, she felt easier. There was a Chinese restaurant, and then Monkton’s Cafe Grand, looking somehow French. Again she dodged traffic to find a table and chair under the striped awning. It was safe here, she thought, crowded enough to hide in. But she had another moment of panic, thinking how she might be mistaken for Sarah Standish, and she hastily took off the useless glasses. But nobody paid any attention to her, beyond the usual speculative glances that men always gave her figure, until her prim face made them turn away. There was no reason to be afraid. Durell was over-cautious. After all, no one even knew Sarah Standish was in Karachi; they had arrived only yesterday; and Sarah hadn’t left her villa once. So she was safe enough, Jane told herself. Nobody wanted to kill her, even by mistake.
    She felt better after sipping her iced vermouth, although the heat gathered under the awning was stifling. She thought of Rudi and wondered how anyone so strong and handsome could be so evil inside. Her stomach spasmed. Yet, remembering, she felt a familiar tremor.
    Jane knew she was not particularly pretty, although her figure was all right. Rudi said her body was sculptured for love. And it had been a source of wonder that a man as sophisticated and cultivated as he should have chosen her, last winter in the Alps. She knew herself to be an unaffected Midwestern girl, even though polished by her employment with Miss Sarah. But Rudi became her first lover. And he had wakened an inner, passionate nature she had never suspected. Even now, fearful and worried, hating him, she still wanted him.
    Because of her childhood in Garden Falls, Indiana, she was still ashamed of the lurid, pornographic memories of herself making love with Rudi. He was tall and strong, with a broad, flat brow and pale eyes, and his long hair was the color of old haystacks in the fields back home. His confidence—and arrogance—had overwhelmed her. He knew his way everywhere, knew everyone. He was a first-class bergsteiger , a mountain-climber and guide, at home on any glacial ridge, exulting in mastery over brute nature. She was clumsy at climbing, but he was patient with her those first days. She’d had a lot of free time, because Miss Sarah was resting and seeing no one. There were many quiet evenings then, in little chalets and mountain huts, when they made love and everything was wonderful.
    Until he asked to meet Miss Sarah, she thought; and she innocently agreed. Then everything changed.
    And everything ended.
    She saw too late that meeting Miss Sarah had been Rudi’s single goal from the very beginning.
    She saw him again in New York last winter, just once, meeting him at that shabby little hotel where it had all been so ugly; and yet she hadn’t been able to keep herself from begging him to love her again. He had been arrogant, impatient. But he had gone to bed with her, for just that last time. And she had been careless....
    So their child would be born not out of love, but from that last union of hate and despair, Jane thought.
    She hadn’t seen Rudi since. He went back to Europe—to the Carlton at Cannes, the Ritz Bar in Paris, the family schloss near Vienna. She followed him by the regular,