Rising Tiger: A Thriller (90)

“Second time around?”

Harvath didn’t respond.

Asha was excellent at reading people. “I’m sorry,” she said, instantly pivoting off what was obviously a painful subject for him. “Tell me about your fiancée. Tall? Short? Blond? Brunette?”

“Tall and blond.”

“So American.”

“She’s actually Norwegian.”

“Where’d you meet her?” Asha teased. “On the ski slopes?”

“Through work.”

“Is she an intelligence officer as well?”

He nodded and took another drink. Asha was good. He couldn’t tell if she was playing him, so he tightened up his game a bit.

“Okay,” she conceded, no work talk. “Do you two have a song?”

“What do you mean, do we have a song?”

“Aren’t you a romantic. Yes, a song. You’re engaged to be married to this woman. You have to have a favorite song together. It’s a law.”

“It’s not a law,” he said with a laugh.

“It’s Asha’s law. Now, what’s the song?”

“There’s a lot of songs we both like.”

“Pick. One. Something significant. Something special for both of you. Take your time. I’ll wait,” she stated, enjoying another sip of her martini.

Harvath thought for a moment and then replied. “?‘Into the Mystic’ by Van Morrison.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

Asha rolled her eyes at him. “What’s significant about it?”

“That’s what was playing the first time we ever danced. We were in a little dive bar in Oslo.”

“Did you ask her or did she ask you?”

“She asked me,” Harvath admitted. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Why am I not shocked? But you did get up and dance because she means that much to you.”

He nodded.

“Maybe you are a romantic after all.”

“What about you?” he asked, changing the subject. “Married?”

“Nope. And before you ask, not engaged and no boyfriend—much to my parents’ displeasure. Marriage and family are a really big deal in India. Too big, if you ask me.”

“So why not? I can’t imagine you have any trouble finding dates.”

She held her glass up, signaling the waitress that she was ready for a refill, and said, “Dates are precisely the problem. My calendar is full. I’m too busy.”

“So you are married,” he said. “To the job.”

“Did my mother send you? You can be honest. I won’t tell anybody.”

Harvath smiled. “She did not. But I think she would want me to tell you that the days are long and the years are short.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, when your head is down, when you’re consumed with the work, you don’t notice the passage of time. When you finally do pick up your head and look around, you’re stunned by how much has passed. If you wait too long, you’re doubly stunned by how little you have left. Life is short. Don’t waste it.”

“Good advice—even if my mother didn’t send you.”

Harvath smiled again. “I’ve got a couple of years on you and—”

“A couple of years?” she teased.

He absorbed the jab with good humor and continued: “You may have Asha’s law, but I’ve got Harvath’s three rules for happiness. Something to do. Someone to love. And something to look forward to. Ours is a rough business. It’ll take everything from you. But only if you let it. My advice—don’t let it.”

“Do you always wax this philosophical with women you’ve just met?”

“Only the ones who point Glocks at me and try to steal my prisoners,” he said as he smiled once more and took another sip of his bourbon.

The waitress returned, set down Asha’s drink, and asked if Harvath wanted another. He politely declined and asked for the bill. If he didn’t apply the brakes now, they’d be down here all night.

“So, tomorrow,” he said. “What’s the plan?”

“We know what Durrani looks like and we know the organization he is using for his cover. We’ll set up surveillance first thing in the morning, before people start showing up for work.”

“We?” Harvath asked. “Just the two of us?”

Asha nodded. Then with a smile she added, “I have some surveillance tech that I think you’re really going to like.”





CHAPTER 58


FRIDAY

For a fraction of a second, Harvath had thought about offering to share the suite with Asha, with him taking the couch in the living room. But then he realized what a kind but stupid idea that was.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust himself; it was that any appearance of impropriety was unprofessional.

Asha was incredibly attractive and no one would believe that they had shared a hotel room overnight and nothing had happened.

S?lvi would believe him, but why would he ever want to put her in the position of wondering? Even the smallest of doubts had a habit of growing and festering over time. He chalked his undelivered offer up to the bourbon talking and welded shut his mental suggestion box.