Chapter 68

Arif turned to Lena. It had been over fifteen minutes since he had seen the woman in the green gown and the man in the blue suit go through the guarded door. He was certain that Myanmar was behind that door. Why else would it be guarded by two armed men?

He started to say something to Lena, but she caught his eye.

"Whatever you do, don't say his name." She smiled as if they were discussing something else entirely.

He understood. He smiled back and tried to sound calm and relaxed, as if he was here to enjoy the party, not infiltrate a secret sex cult.

"I think she's Indian. The woman in the green gown." In fact, she looked vaguely familiar, as if she resembled someone he had once known.

Lena shrugged. "What the fuck does it matter? Under the skin, we're all the same. Biped animals who need to fuck, feed and forage."

A bearer offered them a silver platter of hors d'oeuvres. Arif passed on them. He wasn't hungry and he wasn't sure what they were. Lena took one of the succulent-looking objects and popped it into her mouth. She chewed on the morsel, dabbing at her lips with a paper napkin.

"Young ones, and very fresh."

He was about to ask her what species of meat or seafood that was, when the guarded door opened again and someone emerged.

It was the man in the blue suit, the Westerner. Arif expected to see the woman in the green dress follow him out, but the door closed after he emerged.

He looked around for a moment, seeming momentarily disoriented, then he made his way through the crowd of extravagantly dressed guests. Arif saw him disappear in the direction of the restrooms. Evidently, the woman was still inside the guarded room. With Myanmar.

He whispered to Lena. "Looks like our mutual friend just made another convert."

"Or another conquest." And smiled at a pair of lushly built women who were linked to each other by a chain that extended from rings imbedded in each one's navel.

Arif glanced at his watch. In a little more than half an hour, the ritual orgy would commence. Not much time left. So far all he and Lena had done was drink, eat, chat, and watch the other guests. Or rather, Lena had eaten and drunk while he had watched her as well as everybody else. Now, he didn't know whether to feel relieved that they hadn't been discovered, or disappointed that Myanmar hadn't sent anyone to check on him.

Lena was engrossed in a very ribald conversation with the two inter-chained women. Arif was just about to ask her if she needed a refill -- he was thinking of going across to the bar and getting himself another Perrier -- when someone said something in his left ear.

"Excuse me?" He turned around. "Did you say something?"

The woman with the Tibetan mask standing beside him spoke again impatiently. "I said, what the fuck do you think you're doing here, Arif?"

Arif froze.

He couldn't mistake that voice in a million years. Even if he hadn't seen the unmistakeable birthmark on her exposed right shoulder.

It was the voice of his wife. Sarla.

She had recognized him despite his mask. His cover was blown.