London Twist: A Delilah Novella

when you’re honest. Wherever that leads you.”
    Fatima offered the sad smile. “You really won’t print any of this?”
    “I told you, I support your work. I only want to write an article that helps you. You can trust me. All right?”
    Fatima smiled and squeezed Delilah’s hand. “Thank you. I’m glad I met you. You know, I was a little intimidated when you first approached me at the rally.”
    Delilah was keenly aware of the warmth of Fatima’s touch. “Intimidated? Why?”
    “Because you’re so beautiful. And confident.”
    “This is quite a compliment, coming from you. Do you know, it was the same for me?”
    Fatima laughed. “Liar.”
    “I’m not lying. I think you’re being too modest. We’ll take care of that with another glass of wine.”
    She refreshed their glasses, then settled back next to Fatima. “Anyway, it’s true. You’re beautiful, and accomplished, and magnetic in front of a crowd. How could I not be intimidated?”
    Fatima smiled. “You’re really too nice. And I’m sorry if I seem paranoid about what you print. I just have… a lot of people watching, do you know what I mean?”
    Delilah was intrigued. “Not exactly. You mean, because you’re a public figure?”
    Fatima nodded, perhaps a shade too eagerly, as though Delilah had provided a ready explanation for the comment and Fatima was grateful for it. “Yes… that. It can be… a lot of pressure. I swear, there are times I want to escape my own life.”
    Delilah thought again of the way Rain had taken her to Phuket. She had already been warming to the idea of trying something similar with Fatima… and now the woman had created a perfect opening. It seemed worth a try at least. How else would she ever spend enough concentrated time with her to get close to the laptop, or otherwise observe what MI6 was hoping to see?
    She hoped it wasn’t the wine talking, that the plan taking shape in her mind made sense. She thought it did. The trick would be to make it stick with management once she’d presented it to them. Well, there was nothing like a fait accompli to get things done.
    “I have a… crazy idea,” she said. “I mean, it’s a good idea, I think, but crazy because it’s on short acquaintance.”
    Fatima took a sip of wine. “Yes?”
    “One of the magazines I freelance for. They have an assignment coming up. They want someone to go to French Polynesia. A puff piece on paradise. All expenses paid. A lot of people are volunteering for the gig, as you can imagine. But I think I can get it if I call in the right favors. So, my crazy idea… would you want to go?”
    Fatima looked at her. “Are you serious?”
    “Yes, very. I’d have to shoot this and that for a few hours a day, but other than that it’s all downtime. Good food, good beaches, lots of sunshine. It would be fun to have a friend to share it with.”
    “I would love to. But I don’t know if I could get away.”
    Delilah didn’t know whether the woman was politely trying to excuse herself, or if there really was something in London that might be preventing her from leaving. If the latter, she wondered what it might be. She decided to press a bit further.
    “But you’re a writer, yes? Bring your laptop and write on the beach.”
    Fatima nodded her head and looked away as though imagining. “I guess I could do that.”
    “Are you sure? I don’t mean to push. And I don’t even know for sure that I can get the gig. But if I can, all you’d need to pay for is airfare. And in fact, if that’s a problem, I have so many frequent flyer miles you’d be doing me a favor helping me use some.”
    “No, the airfare isn’t a problem, especially with everything else taken care of. I just… I haven’t been out of London in a while. Which isn’t good, actually. Sometimes I think I’m needed here less than I really am. And even if I am needed, they’ll just have to miss me. Or find me online. How long are we talking about, anyway? A few days? A week?”
    Again, that… discomfort, with her circumstances in London. And needed by whom? So many hints, threads, possibilities to examine. But later.
    “Just a few days, probably, but I’ll try to stretch it out. It’s a long trip from London, maybe twenty-four hours, door to door, so I think we should stay as long as possible, no?”
    Fatima smiled. “You’re very persuasive.”
    “And you’re too kind. A few days or a week in paradise isn’t something that should require much talent for