The Merchant of Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

singularly focused his attention on Sara and expended considerable efforts
on winning her over with an abundance of flirty language, delivering one gooey
line after the next, until finally I was tired of it, and cut-short his
unbearable and sappy performance to ask a few questions surrounding his reasons
for being in Washington. Then he sharply retrenched, and nervously began
sputtering evasive answers.
     
    “I’m here to facilitate some transactions between two
companies, in a sort of a merger,” he said abruptly.
    “What companies?” Sara asked, innocently.
     “I don’t think you’d know them,” he retorted.
    “What firm are you with in Madrid?”  I asked,
expecting him to drop the name of a prestigious firm to justify the arrogance
dripping from his body language. Not that it would have been believable, but at
least it would have rounded-out the character portrayal.
     
     “I don’t think you’d know it, it’s a small private
investment company.  The unfortunate reality is that I have to travel so
much for business” he added with an expression that mimicked sorrow, trying to
steer conversation back to travel or anything other than himself.  
     
    “Where?” I asked.
    “New York , Washington and
elsewhere,” he answered succinctly.
    “Is there that much investment banking here for you here
in Washington?” I shot back.
     
     “Unless you’re in town to bid for government
treasuries, what’s your business here?” I asked, while scrolling through my
emails. His effusive and confident manner gradually subsided.  He glared
through the corner of his eyes, wearing nervous grin which pushed the fat in
his cheeks upward until his eyes were forced into a squint.  The questions
were puncturing holes in his façade and he couldn’t risk being revealed so he
withdrew to another subject.
     
    In the aftermath of 9-11-2001, money on defense and
intelligence programs flowed like water through a canyon, and it crossed my
mind that maybe he wanted  to dip his bucket into
the government money stream. Perhaps he was one of those who came to Washington
with aspirations of gaining wealth at the expense of the American taxpayer, but
this was 2011 and the U.S. had gone through the greatest financial crisis since
the Depression and the defense appropriations landscape had changed.  
     
     “Do you work?” he asked, turning in my direction,
trying to ascertain my strengths.
     “Yes.”
    “Where? What do you do for a
living?”
    “I work at a high-tech company, ”
 I replied as Sara quietly grinned.
    “Doing what?” he queried, nervously rotating the rim of
his wine glass with his fingers and bracing for the response.
    “I program websites, I write HTML5 coding.”
     
    He let out a faint sigh of relief.
     
    Sara was on the verge of exploding in laughter.  He
didn’t need to know what an “Intelligence and Computer Systems Analyst” was, or
that I worked for the Department of Homeland Security and would be sure to make
him a top priority as soon as I could get my fingers on a company computer.
 He was searching for something from us that night but it eluded me.
  
     
    “Sara, it’s 11:00 and there’s a ton of snow outside. We
should probably get going, the roads are going to be challenging. I’ll be back in
a moment and then we’ll go. Okay?”  I said firmly before slipping away to
the ladies’ room, where safely out of view, I pulled out my phone and Googled his name.  As someone manages huge quantities
of information I was losing my mind in the frustration that there wasn’t a
single link with the name of the man having dinner with us.
     
    I called who Justin worked as an aid to a Senator from
Wisconsin.
     
    “Hi Justin,” I said, “I’m a friend of Sara and am calling
from the restaurant.” I paused to give him time to recognize me.  
     
    “Oh sure! I remember you!” he
replied, “Sorry I can’t join you for dinner, there’s about three feet of snow
on the