TRUST IN JESUS
Like a silent assassin, the catamaran glides over the sapphire sea. Jesus, the Cuban fisherman, cocoa brown, muscles rippling light and shade, handles the lithe craft as expertly as a gaucho plays a horse. But then . . .
IT CAME FROM A FAR OFF LAND
It came from a far-off land. Days after Christmas. You can’t see it, smell it, taste it. It can find you no matter where you are. It has a name, a name I’ve never heard before.
UNTIL FRANK YAKOBOVITCH
I have seen unspeakable things in my life: husbands emasculated by jealous wives; an eight-year-old girl disembowelled by a butcher; a man excoriated by a wacko who believed his victim to be the reincarnation of Saint Bartholomew . . .
OWN GOAL
Desmond weighs the bright-bladed knife in his hand. On the left side of his face, a bone white scar runs from temple to chin. He runs the tip of the knife along the ridge. How could he have been so stupid?
WHEN THE BEAR CALLS
Kyiv in February, snow painting the city white, the river cold and lazy. You and I huddle together for warmth, our teeth chattering. We have known each other for a year . . .
CZECH MATE
I hadn’t thought about Spike for years, not until my Croatian wife suddenly disappeared. Valentina had left a note that explained nothing: simply that she had made a dreadful mistake. I called a friend in the Met, asked him if he could find out where she was . . .
