wants to get his mind off of himself, and I see no reason to disappoint him. âItâs complicated. Neither of us is the committing type.â
He smiles, finally looking at me. âThatâs spooks for you. Always thinking of the angles. Protecting themselves to the point of exclusion. Iâm trying to remember one example of two field agents who ended up in a successful relationshipâor as successful as any relationships are these days. I canât.â
This, I realize, is a significant statement. Heâs been in the business since I was in diapers.
âDonât take it as criticism, Cee. Itâs not like the rest do much better. Most couples just take longer to split up. That doesnât make what everyone else has any richer or more rewarding. Just longer.â
Heâs failing, as anyone overcome with self-pity does. His attempt to divert himself with my romantic life simply draws him back to himself. So I offer more. âWeâve been at it over a year, but I sometimes feel like I donât know him any better than when we first met. Not that thatâs a bad thing. The mystery is still there for both of us. But thatâs the catch, isnât it? You start to wonder if this false sense of mystery is the only thing keeping it going.â
He settles his chin on his hand and watches me with sympathy, so I go on.
âAnd I thinkâthis is usually at night, when Iâm depressedâthat weâve both become too jaded about the human race. We believe that once we get past the mystery, itâll be the same drudgery and psychic scars and childhood storm clouds that everyone has. Nothing special. Nothing worth devoting your entire life to.â
âWell,â he says, leaning back. âThatâs pretty bleak, isnât it?â
âIs it? I thought it was pragmatic. I thought I was being an adult.â
A smile, then, which I realize is his first of the day, but before he can open his mouth to reply his cell phone bleeps for his attention. A full second later, mine does as well. Weâve received the same message, from the same source:
RED
The smile is gone now, and I suspect I wonât see it again for a long while. He waves for the waiter as I go to collect our coats from the front. When I look back, heâs shoveling euros into the waiterâs hands, then patting him on the shoulder, receiving genial nods in reply. âTheyâre going to deliver it,â he tells me as he takes his coat from me.
Keeping a brisk pace back to Boltzmanngasse, he says, âYou should allow yourself to fail.â
âWhat?â
âPeople are defined less by their achievements than by the failures that brought them to where they are.â
âNo risk, no gain.â
He shakes his head, then pauses at a streetlamp to give me his full attention. âNo. No risk, no failure . And without failure youâre not really human. Youâre just skating on the surface of life.â
I understand him, of course, but I still feel like I need a little more. The light changes, though, and heâs already walking briskly ahead. I have to jog to catch up.
Â
5
Amman, just as TRIPWIRE said. Austria or GermanyâAustria, it turns out. And, as announced in the hijackersâ calls to the control tower and to ORF, the national radio and television outlet, they are indeed members of Aslim Taslam. âTheyâve already killed a stewardess,â Vick tells us. âHer nameâs Raniyah Haddadin.â
Itâs a Royal Jordanian flight, number 127. An Airbus 319, which seats a hundred and thirty-eightâthis day, it carries a hundred and twenty passengers and crew. Departed Amman at 10:35 A.M. and landed in Vienna at 1:25 P.M. without a hitch. According to the Austriansâbased on the passenger manifest and the pilotâs narrative before the cockpit was taken overâthe four hijackers didnât cause any problems during the
Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Martin A. Lee, Bruce Shlain