The Illumination Read Free Page B

of the revolving cameramen. Linc jumps off the plane at three—you won’t like him nearly as much as you like me, by the way—and an hour later I get on. And get out.” He shoved back his chair and stood up,stretching his arms over his bare head. “So I’m passing on the high-octane coffee tonight. If I don’t hit the sack now, I may as well pull an all-nighter.”
    â€œSee you in the morning, Rusty. Don’t forget to knock on my door before you leave.”
    She lingered at the small table after he went up to his room, swallowing down an unexpected surge of homesickness. The green-tiled dining room was empty save for the skinny young Iraqi who worked in the kitchen and kept the place in some semblance of order for the network staffers bunking there. Tonight the villa felt more desolate than usual, despite the fragrance of the lush vegetation outside and the proximity of Saddam’s former palaces.
    Villa. The word conjured up images of wealth and splendor, palm trees and servants. But now this villa was anything but idyllic. Would this country ever again know any luxury—even the “luxury” of peace?
    After the hotels had been bombed, MSNBC and other news agencies had been forced to rent headquarters in assorted villas or large private homes within the Green Zone. All of them were in various stages of disrepair, yet they were still safer bases of operations than the hotels, which were far more visible targets.
    Not that any place was actually safe here.
    She thought for a moment of countless dinners in New York, of relaxed people laughing in crowded restaurants, of the festive clink of flatware and glasses, and the short walks afterward to snag a taxi or jump on the subway. She flashed on all the Friday nights she’d met Natalie for dinner after work, and the Sunday mornings she’d jogged through Central Park, and suddenly Dana became nostalgic for grass damp with dew. And for her sister. There was so much she missed, especially the normal, simple freedoms of life lived without the fear of kidnappings and beheadings.
    You wanted this,
she reminded herself, scooping up the pendant from the table, jangling the chain in her hand.
And in only a few more weeks you’ll be done—choppering out at four
A.M .
yourself. So suck it up and smile for the camera, baby.
    â€œExcuse me, Miss Landau . . .” Duoaud, the young Iraqi, leaned in to set a small cup of thick black coffee before her. “Is there anything else you need this evening?”
    â€œI’m set for tonight, Duoaud.” She glanced up at the thin young man with the movie-star eyelashes who hovered at her elbow. “I’m turning in for the night, too.”
    She angled the pendant back into its pouch as Duoaud gathered up the plates and napkins. As he worked, his gaze followed the glint of the chain as it slid into the hollow of waiting leather.
    â€œA most beautiful amulet, Miss Landau. Almost as beautiful as you,” he added with a flashing grin. “My girlfriend, she would enjoy wearing one like that. Did you buy it here in Baghdad?”
    She scraped back her chair and turned toward the stairs. “Actually, it found me. G’night, Duoaud. Please tell Wasim the lamb was amazing this evening. The best I’ve ever tasted.”
    But Duoaud didn’t tell Wasim a thing. As soon as Dana left the dining room, Duoaud raced through the kitchen and out the back door, tearing down back alleys stinking of garbage and dog piss, past tall and vacant hotels, past gas stations and trinket shops, until he stood at a stately home near the far outskirts of the Green Zone. At the door of Aslam Hameed, who was paying him to keep an eye on the Americans and to keep an ear out for whispers about the Eye of Dawn, he pummeled the thick wood with the side of his fist.
    â€œIt’s true. It exists—it’s here.
The Eye of Dawn.
I saw it with my own eyes. Tonight—at the