Chaos in Kabul Read Free

of Malta—to cite just some of his titles—looked out his library window at the silently falling snow that since last night had been covering all of Burgenland.
    He was lost in thought.
    The music coming from the ballroom reminded Malko that his castle had guests tonight. Some twenty squires from neighboring estates had come to Liezen to eat braised venison with chestnuts prepared by his faithful old cook, Ilse, who had preceded it with a mountain of charcuterie. All washed down with beer and Steinhäger gin.
    People had started dancing after dinner, but Malko discreetly slipped away, leaving his guests in the hands of his fiancée, Alexandra, who looked dazzling in a mauve Azzedine Alaïa gown.
    For some reason, he wasn’t enjoying the party as much as he should. It was the manifestation of his worldly public life, that of a somewhat impoverished Austrian nobleman who somehow managed to preserve his station in ways unsuspected by the hoi polloi.
    Very few people knew of Malko Linge’s connection to the CIA as a highly skilled freelance operative. In exchange for taking insanerisks, it allowed him to pay the castle’s bills. As he watched the snowflakes fall, Malko found himself thinking that every stone of the old place was soaked in the blood of those who died so he could live and enjoy it. The swirling wall of white flakes gradually covering the courtyard cobblestones seemed to be cutting him off from the world.
    Malko wasn’t feeling himself this evening. He downed his glass of Russky Standart and was about to rejoin his guests when a warm body leaned against his back. He had no trouble recognizing Alexandra, whose heavy breasts pressed against his alpaca jacket.
    The young woman slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer.
    “This is certainly the first time I’ve ever seen you go into the library alone,” she murmured teasingly.
    They had often made love in that room, and a fair number of Malko’s other conquests had lost what remained of their virtue there. In spite of Alexandra’s fierce jealousy, he sometimes couldn’t help yielding to his predatory instincts.
    “It was too noisy in the ballroom,” he said. “I’m glad you came to join me.”
    He rested his hand on the young woman’s, which was firmly pressed against his belly. She put her lips against his neck.
    “I counted the women guests, and they were all present, so I went looking for you. What’s the matter?”
    “Nothing, exactly. I just needed some time to think. I was remembering Tunis. I don’t like what happened there. A lot of people died for nothing.”
    “That was far away,” Alexandra answered lightly. “Now you’re home, enjoying life, and life is good. Your guests find you charming and brilliant, and they envy me.”
    “You know this is all going to end someday,” he said. “You’ll get that bad phone call …”
    “Not necessarily. You can always shake off your spooks and come live with me. I have a big, beautiful home and a vineyard that can easily support both of us without your having to risk your life every three months.”
    “You’d want me to leave Liezen?”
    “Why not? Even if you kill ten times more people for the CIA, you’ll never be able to restore this castle completely. It’s a money pit, and you know it.”
    “It would break my heart to leave Liezen,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d rather burn it down.”
    Alexandra burst out laughing.
    “What a good idea! It would make for a terrific bonfire. We could throw one last party and dance in the courtyard while the castle burned.”
    Malko wheeled on her.
    “Stop talking nonsense! Come on, let’s go back. Our guests will think we have bad manners.”
    Alexandra didn’t budge, blocking his way instead. In a low voice she said, “Let’s imagine that I’m one of your women guests and you found me here, all alone in the darkness. What would you do?”
    They weren’t exactly in darkness and he could make out Alexandra’s voluptuous