Sara Paretsky - V.I. Warshawski 10 Read Online Free PDF Page A

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their books so he can see whom they insured from 1850 to 1865. Naturally Ajax
is fighting like crazy to keep the IHARA, with or without Durham’s amendment,
from getting passed here or anywhere. Although the Florida and California
legislation that inspired the Illinois act doesn’t seem to have hurt insurers
any. I guess they’ve figured they can stall until the last beneficiary dies. .
. . Morrell, I’m going to kill in a minute if I don’t get some nicotine. You
cuddle Vic. I’ll give my great hacking smoker’s cough to warn you I’m coming
back in.”
    “Poor guy.” Morrell followed me as I went into the
bedroom to change. “Mmph. I don’t remember that bra.”
    It was a rose and silver number I rather liked myself.
Morrell nuzzled my shoulder and fiddled with the hooks. After a few minutes I
pulled away. “That smoker’s cough is going to hack in our ears in a minute.
When did you find out he was coming to town?”
    “He called from the airport this morning. I tried to
let you know, but your mobile phone wasn’t on.”
    Morrell took my skirt and sweater and hung them in the
closet. His extreme tidiness is a big reason I can’t imagine our ever living together.
    He perched on the edge of the tub when I went into the
bathroom to take off my makeup. “As much as anything, I think Don wanted an
excuse to get away from New York. You know, since Envision’s parent company was
bought by that big French firm, Gargette, he hasn’t been having much fun in
publishing. So many of his authors are being axed that he’s afraid his job will
be cut. He wants to scope out the issues surrounding the Birnbaum
conference—see if there’s enough in them for a book of his own.”
    We went back into the bedroom, where I pulled on jeans
and a sweatshirt. “What about you?” I leaned against him, closing my eyes and
letting the wall of fatigue I’d been battling crash over me. “Is there any risk
of your contract for the Taliban book being canceled?”
    “No such luck, babe.” Morrell ruffled my hair. “Don’t
sound so hopeful.”
    I blushed. “I didn’t mean to be so obvious. But—Kabul.
An American passport is as big a liability there as a woman’s exposed arms.”
    Morrell held me more tightly. “You’re more likely to
get into trouble here in Chicago than I am in Afghanistan. I’ve never been in
love before with a woman who was beaten up and left to die on the Kennedy.”
    “But you could visit me every day while I was
recuperating,” I objected.
    “I promise you, Victoria Iphigenia, that if I am left
to die in the Khyber Pass, I will get Humane Medicine to fly you over so you
can see me every day.”
    Humane Medicine was a human-rights group Morrell had
traveled with in the past. They were based in Rome and were hoping to set up an
inoculation program for Afghan children before the Himalayan winter set in in
earnest. Morrell was going to roam around talking to anyone he could, observe
the state-sanctioned boys’ schools, see if he could find any of the underground
girls’ schools, and generally try to get some understanding of the Taliban.
He’d even been taking a course on the Koran in a mosque on Devon Avenue.
    “I’m going to fall asleep if I don’t start moving,” I
murmured into his chest. “Let’s get some dinner for Don. We’ve got that
fettuccine I bought on the weekend. Put some tomatoes and olives and garlic in
it; that’ll do the job.”
    We went back into the living room, where Don was
flipping through a copy of the Kansas City Review —Morrell had a critique
of some recent books on Guatemala in it. “Good job, Morrell—it’s a tough
question, what to do about old juntas in new clothes, isn’t it? Tough question
to know what to do about our own government’s involvement with some of these
groups, too.”
    I drifted for a bit while they talked about South
American politics. When Don announced a need for another cigarette, Morrell
followed me to the kitchen to pull supper