The Small Boat of Great Sorrows Read Online Free Page B

this hour to read, and she held a storybook in her right hand.
    â€œWe’ll do that later,” Vlado whispered, switching to his native tongue. “Go on now. I’ll come and get you.”
    She turned, casting a parting glance of cool appraisal toward the couch.
    â€œShe’s nine?” Pine asked.
    â€œJust turned it.”
    Pine had learned that either from Jasmina or from a file, and Vlado wondered uneasily what other information he’d dug up.
    â€œOh, and one bit of housekeeping,” Pine said. “Before we continue, I have to ask that you keep the details of our meeting entirely confidential, no matter what you might decide to do. For reasons of operational security.”
    So here it comes, Vlado thought, worried again.
    â€œI suppose I can agree to that.”
    â€œGood. In that case, how would you like to go back to work? Real work, I mean. Police work, like you used to do. A temporary job only, I’m afraid. But it could lead to something permanent, if you decided that’s what you wanted.”
    Vlado tried not to show his relief, lighting a cigarette then offering one to Pine, knowing the American would probably refuse.
    â€œNo thanks. Don’t smoke.”
    â€œInvestigative work? I hadn’t heard you were short of help at the tribunal. And it’s not like I could just pull up and move to The Hague, if that’s what you’re saying. But what exactly are you saying?”
    â€œYou wouldn’t be working at The Hague. You’d be going back to Bosnia. Only for a few weeks, at the most. Then, later, for good. If you wanted.” Pine glanced toward Jasmina in the kitchen. “Which you’d have plenty of time to think about, of course. And we’d help with resettlement. Housing. Plus a regular job, doing what you did before. Investigations. In a jurisdiction that would actually be glad to have you.”
    â€œBut not working for the tribunal. That part would only be temporary, as you said.”
    â€œYes. A one-time job, I’m afraid.”
    This got stranger by the minute. Vlado wondered which police jurisdiction in Bosnia would actually be glad to have him, or if such a place existed. Pine wore a little smile, as if sharing an inside joke about the way that Vlado had left things in Sarajevo. There was no sound from the kitchen, but Vlado sensed Jasmina’s presence just beyond the doorway. She’d be listening with her mouth set firmly and her hands still, wondering what was about to happen to the little world they’d made in Berlin, which, on balance, was comfortable enough. Safe enough, too. If there would be a problem in taking this assignment, Jasmina would be the reason. Like many Bosnian women strewn across Europe by the war she had somehow blossomed on the barren soil of abandonment, spreading shallow but hardy roots in an unwelcoming land. Vlado had seen it happen in plenty of these families, the women picking up confidence while the menfolk, suddenly adrift, wandered and drank, sliding off toward melancholy and dreams of home.
    â€œMaybe we’re not too eager to go back,” Vlado said for her benefit. “And maybe you’d better tell me a little more about this one-time job.”
    Jasmina had moved to the kitchen door, wearing an expression that let Pine know she wished he’d never come. Vlado, however, was transformed. The sagging man of ten minutes ago was now edging forward in his chair.
    â€œOf course you’d always be free to stay here, once our work was done,” Pine said, perhaps playing to his audience in the kitchen. “The Germans have assured us of that. And either way you’d be well compensated. If you took the assignment.”
    Vlado blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. These past few years he had tried to think as little as possible about his old line of work. Burning your bridges and nearly getting yourself killed can have that effect. But it wasn’t hard to