by Adam LeBor
She felt completely overwhelmed and to her annoyance, her eyes prickled with tears. Hussein handed her a silk handkerchief.
The SG led her into a sizable office four doors from his, much larger than her old workplace. The room was light and airy with windows overlooking the East River. A three-seater sofa filled one corner, a mahogany art-deco desk and chair another. Her peacekeeper’s beret and mug stood on a shelf. A large new cork pin board took up part of one wall. A ten-by-twelve photograph, framed in silver, stood on the desk. It was a picture of David, standing in front of his white UN Jeep on the front line in Eastern Slavonia during the Croatian war.
Hussein held both her hands in his and looked her in the eye. “Please believe me, Yael. I really had no idea that he was your brother. David was a very brave young man. Whatever you decide, I very much hope you accept this from me.”
Yael felt her eyes mist up again. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“With your permission we would also like to endow a scholarship in your brother’s name for young Africans who wish to study in Europe or the United States. We have a very strong candidate in this young man,” Hussein said, showing her a photograph of a smiling, intelligent-looking African teenager. “His name is Herve Mapunga. He took the photographs of the guns being distributed in Kimanda. He wants to be a journalist. I think he will be a good one, don’t you?”
Yael nodded, suddenly unable to speak. She swallowed hard and walked over to the door. She shut it quietly, closed her eyes, and breathed slowly and deeply for several seconds, centering herself before she spoke. “Joe-Don?”
Hussein inclined his head graciously. “Of course.”
“Jasna?”
“Her contract at the UN has been extended another five years and now covers the whole east wing of the Palais. She has just taken on twenty more employees, including several Congolese refugees who, together with their families, have just received their Swiss residency papers. Whatever you decide, you may consider that as my gift to you.”
The SG turned to leave and Yael held up her hand. “Wait, please. There’s something I want to ask you. If you want me to come back, I need to know.”
Hussein nodded. “Ask.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Hussein looked puzzled but willing to be helpful. “My dear Yael, what was me? I am not sure what you mean.”
“The sound file I received. You were there, at the meeting with Rembaugh and the others. I heard your voice. You knew what was planned in Goma. You sent me the sound file. And then you warned Ambassador Munyakarana that something terrible was planned.”
She watched him carefully and saw something flicker in his eye for an instant. Something almost like relief, she sensed. And then it was gone. Hussein smiled warmly, shaking his head as though dealing with a much-loved, very bright, but impetuous younger relative.
He took her hand in his again. “Let me know your decision. Take as long as you like,” he said as he left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Yael sat down at the desk and stayed there for a long time, staring at the picture of her brother. She wiped her eyes, walked over to the shelf, put on her peacekeeper’s beret, and stood by the window for a while, watching the river traffic. A passenger ferry glided out of the East 34th Street terminal, chugging slowly toward Queens, honking cheerfully. A garbage scow moved upriver, and the seagulls swirled and dived. Everything looked exactly the same as the day she left.
Yael reached inside her wallet and took out a worn photograph, covered in plastic and singed in one corner. She pinned it in the center of the corkboard and touched it with her index finger before sitting back down at her desk.
For the first time that day she smiled. She picked up the telephone and asked the building switchboard for the New York Times bureau.
It rang and rang and she was about to hang up when someone answered.
“New York Times,” said Sami.
She swiveled around and leaned back with her feet on the desk. “Hello. It’s me.”
“Hello you,” he said coolly, trying to cover his surprise.
“Long time, no speak,” said Yael.
“Just following instructions.”
She tried not to laugh. “And the ones you got from [email protected].”
“Oh. Was that e-mail from you?”
“Let’s just say I know what it contained. That was a great article today. Well done. Anyway, I have a question for you. Two, actually.”
“I’m listening,” Sami replied, and now she could sense him smiling.
“Are you free tonight?” she asked, spinning the blue beret on her finger.
“Yeees,” he said warily. “Why?”
“Good. Where are you are taking me for dinner?”
Credits
Cover design by Jarrod Taylor
Cover photographs © Cultura Creative / Alamy (silhouette); © BL Images Ltd / Alamy (UN building); © Corbis Flirt / Alamy (background sky)
About the Author
ADAM LEBOR lives in Budapest and writes for the Economist, New York Times, Times (London), Monocle, and numerous other publications. He is the author of a number of nonfiction books, including the groundbreaking investigative work Hitler’s Secret Bankers (short-listed for the Orwell Prize), which revealed the extent of Swiss complicity with the Third Reich; City of Oranges (short-listed for the Jewish Quarterly Prize); and Complicity with Evil.
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Copyright
Excerpt from ‘A Little Tooth’ from New & Selected Poems, 1975–1995 by Thomas Lux. Copyright © 1997 by Thomas Lux. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company. All rights reserved.
THE GENEVA OPTION. Copyright © 2013 by Adam LeBor. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-06-220855-2 (pbk.)
Epub Edition JUNE 2013 ISBN: 9780062208569
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