A Vision of Fire Read Online Free

serious?”
    â€œThat serious.”
    Caitlin rose and started toward the door. “Give me five minutes here and I’ll come over.”
    â€œThanks. I’ll text you where to meet.”
    Caitlin ended the call, opened the door, and explained the situation. After rescheduling with her client, she caught a cab and headed for the United Nations.
    Ben’s text read 48th and 2nd . As Caitlin’s cab pulled along the curb, she spotted him pacing in front of an apartment tower. He was wearing a tailored suit and a grim expression. She watched her old friend as the cabbie processed her card. A long, dim portico with square arches stretching behind him made his taut stride seem even more restless, as if the arches were boxing him in. He was carefully eyeing every cab that passed. When he eventually registered hers he brightened slightly and hurried over.
    She had only noticed fear in Benjamin Moss twice since she met him as an undergrad at New York University: on September 11, 2001, watching the Twin Towers burn from the foot of Washington Square Park, and in Thailand after the tsunami of 2004 as bodies began to wash up onto the shore. But he seemed fearful now.
    They hugged. The air felt unusually chilly, even though the sun was shining directly on them.
    â€œI owe you big-time,” he said.
    â€œTime and a half,” she said. “Why am I here?”
    With a gentle hand Ben steered Caitlin back to the portico. He stopped there and glanced surreptitiously at the doorman. Caitlin suddenly felt trapped with Ben in his imaginary cage.
    â€œBen, what’s going on?”
    â€œHow’s Jacob?” he asked quietly. “Still ten?”
    â€œHe’s fine. Taking cooking classes. He wants to take Tai Chi now like the people in the park.”
    â€œI know a good teacher,” he said. “From China.”
    â€œBen? Where’s the graveyard and why are you whistling?”
    He took a breath. Ben was a translator at the United Nations. She had seen him at work: there was always the briefest delay between what he heard and what he said as he processed exactly how to say it. He was doing that now.
    â€œEarly this morning the Indian ambassador to the UN was walking his daughter to school,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You may have heard about it—”
    â€œAttempted assassination,” she said.
    â€œRight. The police commissioner put the Counterterrorism Bureau on it and all they’ve turned up is a nameless guy and a fuzzy surveillance video showing two men on their motorcycle racing down York Avenue.”
    â€œNo one’s claimed responsibility?”
    Ben shook his head. “The NYPD thinks the men were lone wolves but both India and Pakistan are pointing fingers.”
    â€œSo no one even knows why this happened?”
    Ben shook his head. “Lots of people have reasons for wanting him dead, or at least sidelined. He’s a pacifist who’s too high-profile to simply recall. More importantly, peace talks started a week ago and most of the United Nations delegates and the Security Council requested that he attend them, over the misgivings of India and Pakistan.”
    â€œAnd you’re his interpreter,” Caitlin said.
    â€œWith Hindi, Urdu, Uighur, Shina, and occasionally a tribal language.” He grinned for the first time. “My brain’s kind of spinning.”
    â€œHow’s his brain?” Caitlin asked.
    â€œPretty good,” he replied. “It takes a lot to rattle that man.”
    Clearly if he was fine, the ambassador wasn’t the reason she was here. Caitlin waited for Ben to resume.
    Ben’s voice got even softer and he leaned forward conspiratorially. “Everything has been proceeding slowly and cautiously—until today. Ambassador Pawar got a phone call about his daughter and left, canceling the rest of the session. It took about a second for the Pakistani delegates to get