exactly what she’s planning to do.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cathy said. “Another shitty meeting, hey? What’s she given you as a story this week?”
Blake needed to change the subject. Even though he still seethed inside and relished the chance to unload his frustration, he wanted to move his wife away from the stress of such subjects – it was important for her health.
“A trade conference,” Blake growled. “No pictures or images there – kills any video piece or good photos for a paper story. But let’s talk of happier things. I received a mystery parcel today – a puzzle box. It wasn’t an off-beat present from you, was it? It’s right up your street.”
“Oh, a mystery present! That sounds exciting!” she replied. “Nope – it wasn’t me, but if you like, I’m sure I could find a surprise or two here to post you! If only they’d actually arrive. Your postal system is awful.”
Blake smiled.
“ Baby, I’ve been thinking,” Blake said. “How would you feel if I got another job? I want to quit the Journal and work somewhere else.”
“At last,” she replied. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a year. Do you think you’ll find something back here given the recession? Would you look for journalism or something else?”
And that was the rub. Jobs in journalism were rare and getting rarer by the day.
“I would change careers,” he said.
Silence.
“Blake Helliker if you start talking about consulting or a return to...” she said sternly.
“No, no – not that,” he replied. “How about public relations?”
Silence.
“You are my husband,” she said. “If you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy. I only ever want you to do what you enjoy.”
“So that’s okay?”
“If you want to do it, I’m 100 per cent behind you,” she said. “You are a man of infinite talents. You know there’s only one set of them I don’t want to see returning to the surface.”
13
“I’d feel more comfortable if this was coming from Fedor,” Anatoly Anvarin said, placing his red wine glass back on the table. “He is, after all, my boss.”
Aarez looked wistfully through the window at the panoramic view. He treasured the Skyview restaurant at the Burj Al Arab. He felt like the entirety of the world coalesced on this one spot, near the pinnacle of the sail-shaped, seven-star hotel.
The azure beauty of the Gulf swept out, all the way to Iran, less than 150 miles away. Face in the other direction and the architectural splendour of the Emirates’ drew the eye towards the shimmering stalagmite of the Burj Khalifa: the world’s tallest building.
It thrust upwards towards the sky – the striving destiny of man to enter the heavens.
The restaurant was perfect.
Exclusive, discreet and they even served excellent crab vol-au-vents.
“Who made him the head of the Wolves?” Aarez said, picking up his own glass of wine and savouring its rusty bouquet before sipping from it. “Who gets you all your visas? Your access to this land of opportunity?”
“Still,” Anatoly responded, “Fedor won’t like this. If you want me to do something, I’m sure he will comply – we’re a partnership. You talk to Fedor, Fedor talks to me. That is the way it works.”
Aarez considered his reply carefully.
“Do you see what I’m drinking?” he asked.
“Red wine,” Anatoly replied cautiously.
“I am an Emirati man, dressed in a dishdasha drinking alcohol in the middle of the day in one of this Islamic country’s most fashionable restaurants,” Aarez said. “No-one is batting an eye lid.”
Aarez took another sip from his glass.
“We are not a partnership,” he continued, “and your place is not to tell me what the limits of my power are. Your place is to follow my instructions as they are laid out.”
Anatoly jumped in his seat as two hands, from nowhere, firmly gripped his shoulders. Thick and powerful. The Russian turned his head uneasily. The hands lifted and grabbed him on
“I’m so sorry,” Cathy said. “Another shitty meeting, hey? What’s she given you as a story this week?”
Blake needed to change the subject. Even though he still seethed inside and relished the chance to unload his frustration, he wanted to move his wife away from the stress of such subjects – it was important for her health.
“A trade conference,” Blake growled. “No pictures or images there – kills any video piece or good photos for a paper story. But let’s talk of happier things. I received a mystery parcel today – a puzzle box. It wasn’t an off-beat present from you, was it? It’s right up your street.”
“Oh, a mystery present! That sounds exciting!” she replied. “Nope – it wasn’t me, but if you like, I’m sure I could find a surprise or two here to post you! If only they’d actually arrive. Your postal system is awful.”
Blake smiled.
“ Baby, I’ve been thinking,” Blake said. “How would you feel if I got another job? I want to quit the Journal and work somewhere else.”
“At last,” she replied. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a year. Do you think you’ll find something back here given the recession? Would you look for journalism or something else?”
And that was the rub. Jobs in journalism were rare and getting rarer by the day.
“I would change careers,” he said.
Silence.
“Blake Helliker if you start talking about consulting or a return to...” she said sternly.
“No, no – not that,” he replied. “How about public relations?”
Silence.
“You are my husband,” she said. “If you’re unhappy, I’m unhappy. I only ever want you to do what you enjoy.”
“So that’s okay?”
“If you want to do it, I’m 100 per cent behind you,” she said. “You are a man of infinite talents. You know there’s only one set of them I don’t want to see returning to the surface.”
13
“I’d feel more comfortable if this was coming from Fedor,” Anatoly Anvarin said, placing his red wine glass back on the table. “He is, after all, my boss.”
Aarez looked wistfully through the window at the panoramic view. He treasured the Skyview restaurant at the Burj Al Arab. He felt like the entirety of the world coalesced on this one spot, near the pinnacle of the sail-shaped, seven-star hotel.
The azure beauty of the Gulf swept out, all the way to Iran, less than 150 miles away. Face in the other direction and the architectural splendour of the Emirates’ drew the eye towards the shimmering stalagmite of the Burj Khalifa: the world’s tallest building.
It thrust upwards towards the sky – the striving destiny of man to enter the heavens.
The restaurant was perfect.
Exclusive, discreet and they even served excellent crab vol-au-vents.
“Who made him the head of the Wolves?” Aarez said, picking up his own glass of wine and savouring its rusty bouquet before sipping from it. “Who gets you all your visas? Your access to this land of opportunity?”
“Still,” Anatoly responded, “Fedor won’t like this. If you want me to do something, I’m sure he will comply – we’re a partnership. You talk to Fedor, Fedor talks to me. That is the way it works.”
Aarez considered his reply carefully.
“Do you see what I’m drinking?” he asked.
“Red wine,” Anatoly replied cautiously.
“I am an Emirati man, dressed in a dishdasha drinking alcohol in the middle of the day in one of this Islamic country’s most fashionable restaurants,” Aarez said. “No-one is batting an eye lid.”
Aarez took another sip from his glass.
“We are not a partnership,” he continued, “and your place is not to tell me what the limits of my power are. Your place is to follow my instructions as they are laid out.”
Anatoly jumped in his seat as two hands, from nowhere, firmly gripped his shoulders. Thick and powerful. The Russian turned his head uneasily. The hands lifted and grabbed him on
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