An African Affair Read Online Free PDF

thinking of a black cotton sheath. I read in some fashion magazine that it doesn’t matter what you wear, as long as it’s black. Bye.”
    Lindsay smiled, watching her disappear behind the closed door. As she was leaving the building, she bumped into Dave Goren, the embassy’s chief political officer.
    “Hey, Lindsay, how’s it going?”
    “Pretty well,” she answered, guardedly.
    Goren was thirty-two, a total straight arrow, growing up in Racine, Wisconsin, graduating Georgetown, followed by an orderly climb up the State Department ladder. His blond hair was cut very short, like a marine’s.
    He was good-looking in a clean-cut midwestern way, but she’d never trusted him. He moved around a lot and it was unclear exactly what his duties were, but he dropped in at most of the hot spots. In fact, he turned up in a lot of the same places as Lindsay, which was natural for a journalist, but for a government man it suggested one thing and one thing only: CIA.
    “You do your Olumide interview yet?” he asked.
    Of course, thought Lindsay. He knows too.
    “No,” she said. “Tomorrow.”
    “So, who you been talking to?” Dave asked casually.
    “Peter,” she answered.
    Dave snorted. “Did he say anything helpful?”
    “Nothing much,” Lindsay answered. “Just background.”
    “Well, just between us, and off the record,” Dave said, leaning closer to her, “I’d take his briefings with a grain of salt if I were you.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “I don’t mean to criticize Peter, but he can be a little naïve. You should talk to me before the interview.”
    “Naïve how?”
    “He sees things in black and white—forgive the pun.”
    Lindsay waited.
    “He doesn’t realize how important Olumide is to our interests,” Dave continued. “We have a lot of influence as long as he’s in power. He deserves our support.”
    They were standing on the steps of the embassy and, looking out, Lindsay noticed the black car still waiting at the end of the street.
    “Well, see if you can use your influence to get those guys to stop following me,” she said.
    Dave glanced at the car. His expression didn’t change.
    “It might be better if you left the country after your interview,” he said.
    “Ah,” Lindsay answered. “There’s something you and Peter agree on. Why do I get the feeling you’re all trying to get rid of me?”
    He shrugged.
    “What have you been doing lately?” she prodded.
    “Nothing much.”
    “I heard you were out of town when William Agapo was killed.”
    “Really? Who told you that?”
    “I hear things. Any idea who’s responsible?”
    “No.”
    She was about to ask more but stopped when she noticed him staring at her, his eyes icy blue.
    “Coming to the party tonight?” she asked.
    “Wouldn’t miss it.”
    “Well, I’ll see you there,” she said, walking toward her car.

CHAPTER 5
    Lindsay made her way to the bar and ordered a scotch, hoping the liquor would steady her. It burned going down but had a soothing effect. It had been a trying day. The black car had followed her home. She hadn’t seen it again when she left for the party, but she remained on edge throughout the drive, nervously checking the rearview mirror.
    She looked around the room, spotting a few of the local hacks who turned up regularly at these events for the free booze and the hope of loose tongues among the diplomats and occasional government officials. She saw a man she didn’t recognize chatting with some journalists and, assuming it was the new man from the Observer , made her way over to meet him. She stood at the edge of the group, listening to the end of a tense exchange between the stranger and Dave Goren. When Goren left, the newcomer muttered under his breath, “Stupid shit.”
    Lindsay moved forward. “Well, I can’t think of a better moment to introduce myself,” she said. “We already have so much in common.” She put out her hand. “I’m Lindsay Cameron with the Globe .”
    He turned