The Doves of Ohanavank Read Online Free

snaps Manoj, “has nothing in it and you know it. One paragraph, giving her age, the name of her manager in Dubai and her country of origin. The rest of the twenty pages contain only photographs. Surely as her manager you have a lot more information on her background. Let me repeat. I expect you to fully cooperate with us on this matter.”
    “What exactly do you want me to do?” asks Ano to give herself time to think about how to raise the issue of payment for her help.
    Manoj checks his watch and shows his impatience. “Let us start with what should have been in her file, but was not: where in Armenia is she from?”
    “All I know is that she is from a poor village.” Ano has assumed a minimalist manner of responding, as if in a deposition by a hostile lawyer.
    “Which village? Surely you know the name of the village!”
    “Actually, I don’t. I could try to find out, but without Viktor it will not be easy. It will take time, and… resources.” Given Manoj’s impatience, she wants to start negotiating before the opportunity is lost.
    But Manoj is in no mood to play along.
    “Look,” he snaps again, this time more forcefully. “I really don’t have time for this. So this is what we’re going to do: I will give you twenty-four hours to answer the following specific questions. If you fail, your operation in Dubai will end and you personally may come under investigation for illegal activities. I hope it is clear to you that in the meantime you cannot leave the country. If you try, you will be arrested on the spot.” Manoj stops for a few seconds to let that sink in, then continues. “My questions are: first, where is Ms. Leila from, the precise name and location of her village; second, what are her family circumstances, in other words, status of her parents, how many siblings does she have and their ages, and their economic circumstances; third, the full name and contact details of this so-called Mr. Abo, who handed Ms. Leila to Ayvazian in Istanbul. You have until—he checks his watch again—precisely two-thirty in the afternoon tomorrow.Call my secretary at this number with the answers.” Then he hands her his secretary’s card and, without another word, leaves the room.
    Ano sits there for a minute, stunned, before one of the aides comes in and, with a smirk that Ano knows is meant to mock her, escorts her out.

Chapter Three
    T here is an old proverb that goes something like this: “Everyone has three ears: one on the right side of their head, one on the left, and the third in their heart.” I remember my father telling us this. “Few have developed the habit of listening through that third ear,” he said. “But it is often more important than the other two put together.”
    Based on my experience, it is women, more than men, who listen with the heart. That is not always an advantage. Those who use only the ears on their head can be better off. The third ear often exposes unhelpful truths and, even worse, falsehoods. There are those who swear by it. But I am not sure it is as reliable as it is made out to be. It is possible to mishear with the heart, sometimes with devastating consequences. Unlike the two ears on the head, the third ear is subjective; it serves different functions for a woman in distress, a woman in love, a criminal, a mafia boss, a shrewd politician… It does not always serve its master well, unless the master is focused and selfish, and even then, it can still mislead.
    My father had an evolved third-ear. “The third ear keeps doors open,” he used to say. “What you hear with your head is what people say, whichmay or may not be the truth. You hear this or that, who did what; you hear possible or impossible; you hear what happened. But the truth is never that simple, and it is what you hear with your third ear that gives you the depth, that turns the ‘no’ into a ‘yes’, the impossible into possible…” We were kids then, and had no clue as to what he was talking