The Taste of Fear Read Online Free PDF Page A

and ordered eggs, coffee, and a platter of fruit. The coffees came first. While Scarlett was sipping hers—milk, no sugar—she saw a woman pass in front of the café, carrying two plastic bags stuffed with groceries. She chuckled to herself.
    “You mind sharing?” Sal said, looking at her curiously. When he saw what had amused her, his face darkened and he stood.
    “Where do you think you’re going?”
    “To get my money back.”
    “Please, Sal. You’re going to go all the way back to the supermarket to argue over a two-dollar bag you bought, or however much it cost?”
    “It’s the principal behind it.”
    “If you do, I’ll mention it during my next interview. They’ll love it—billionaire scrooge.”
    Sal hesitated but sat back down. Scarlett studied him. What was on his mind? He’d been gung-ho about this safari, this stage for reconciliation, when they had discussed it at Cedars-Sinai Hospital. But ever since—back home, where he’d slept in one of the guest bedrooms, in the car, on the plane—he’d been quiet, detached even. Was he second-guessing coming on this getaway with her? Having doubts about the whole process of working things out? Or did his surly mood have more to do with his work? Perhaps he was more concerned with the Prince Tower opening than he was letting on. After all, the biggest economic downturn since the Great Depression wasn’t the best time to be launching a $1.5-billion hotel with rooms that ranged from $800 to $30,000 a night.
    She was about to ask him this when he leaned back in his chair and said, “You know, I don’t understand why Western imperialism has gotten such a bad rap.” He stared past her to the dirty street, the paint-peeled buildings. “How can advancing law and order, reforming health and education, implementing a modern economy be a bad thing?”
    “Because it wasn’t ours to change,” she said. “How would you feel, Sal, if some hotshot came in and instigated major changes in your company?”
    “That would be impossible since I’m both CEO and chairman, cara mia. ”
    Scarlett smiled despite herself. His playful arrogance was one of the things she’d missed most about him during their separation.
    “We literally flattened Japan,” Sal went on. “But look at them sixty years later. They’re the world’s second largest economy. Look at this place after sixty years of self-rule. They’ve gone backward. Barely one in ten Tanzanians has electricity or a flushing toilet. Look beyond this relatively affluent city to the wars and famine, genocide, disease, human rights abuses, and military dictatorships that plague nearly every corner of this resource-rich continent. Did you see the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda? It’s right down the street. We passed it coming in.”
    The waiter returned with their breakfast. Scarlett tried the eggs, which were greasy but good. She sucked on a piece of pineapple.
    “What about self-determination?” she said. She knew she couldn’t win this argument. One of Sal’s causes was Africa, just as hers was ending the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.
    “Self-determination?” He smiled thinly. “What good is self-determination when your leaders are corrupt despots? At least when the British sent money to the Colonial Civil Service, the Englishmen in charge spent it according to design. Contrary to that, the majority of foreign aid poured into sub-Sahara Africa since the fifties has leaked back West as capital flight—mainly to the Swiss bank accounts of the ruling elite.”
    “It’s not as simple as that—”
    “No, it’s not,” he quipped. “What is simple is to blame all of Africa’s problems on colonialism, apartheid, globalization, and multi-nationalism.”
    He finally turned his attention to his plate. He cut a slice of egg white and set it atop a piece of dry brown toast. He cut the toast, speared it with his fork, and stuck the bite-sized piece in his mouth. “All I’m saying,” he