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A Night In Damascus
Cardinal picked up the pen. "Mr. and Mrs. Fertus E. Patriot, Ypsilanti, Michigan." The hotel clerk collected the paperwork, then went into the back to retrieve the electronic key.
Marsha shifted from one foot to another, obviously annoyed. "Well, I'm proud of you," she said in a low voice. "You spelled Ypsilanti correctly, and on the first try."
"Now settle down," Cardinal said softly. "We're in love, remember, dearest?"
"Oh, of course," she said. "You have been the love of my life since I met you. I was a high school freshman and you were thirty-two."
"That's the spirit. Remember, we're Americans in Damascus. We will attract attention. You have to sell this all the way. That means keeping your loving husband happy, if you know what I mean."
Marsha looked the other way. "You know, I never would have thought Damascus would have a Super 8 motel. No better than the ones stateside, though I guess the housekeepers aren't Hispanic."
"Honey, you know how I feel about illegal immigrants. You wouldn't want to spoil the mood of your adoring husband."
"Any adoring husband of mine would do better than the Damascus Super 8."
They went up to the second floor to their room before she spoke again. "I'm not all that comfortable with this husband and wife thing."
"That's your doing, not mine," Cardinal said. "We are traveling in the Middle East. You wanted to come along, and you know a woman traveling alone would attract attention. This works better."
They sat in the room, arguing like that for fifteen minutes. The phone rang. It was Ali, a CIA operative and their contact in Damascus. "I don't suppose you speak Arabic, do you?" he asked.
"Arabic? Nah, can't help you with that. My specialty is mayhem. I'm a liability until the bullets fly, and then I'm in my game."
"The people we are dealing with have no problem killing either," Ali said. "I wouldn't assume courage is your clear advantage."
"Courage, no, that's not what it's all about. Amorality, that's the thing. I have no inhibitions. I operate solely through a system of pain and pleasure. Like a Pavlov dog."
"Yes, I've been briefed about you. We will see if this amorality is the advantage you think it is. I have my doubts. I warn you, Mr. Cardinal, that I will set up this deal with you, but I have no intention of risking my life on your prowess. Don't look for me to have your back."
"Gotcha," Cardinal said. "I know you CIA people work. You gather the information, then leave it to us paramilitary types to get the job done. Just get the hell over here so we can get started. And bring a half dozen grenades and a flamethrower with you. I'm feeling kinda naked."