his bed. Strange for a woman to think in terms of honor. That was traditionally men's territory, although nowadays the word rarely passed the lips of members of either sex.
'Can a man who lies, cheats, steals, and sometimes does violence to other people be a man of honor?'
Kolabati looked into his eyes. 'He can if he lies to liars, cheats cheaters, steals from thieves, and limits his violence to those who are violent.'
'You think so?'
'I know so.'
An honorable man. He liked the sound of that. He liked the meaning that went with it. As Repairman Jack he’d taken an honorable course without consciously setting out to do so. Autonomy had been his driving motive—to reduce to the barest minimum all external restraints upon his life. But honor...honor was an internal restraint. He hadn't recognized the role it had played all along in guiding him.
Kolabati's hand started moving again and thoughts of honor sank in the waves of pleasure washing over him. It was good to be aroused again.
He’d led a monkish life since Gia had left him. Not that he’d consciously avoided sex—he’d simply stopped thinking about it. A number of weeks had gone by before he even realized what had happened to him. He’d read that that was a sign of depression. Maybe. Whatever the cause, tonight made up for any period of abstention, no matter how long.
Her hand was gently working at him now, drawing responses from what he had thought an empty well. He was rolling toward her when he caught the first whiff of the odor.
What the hell is that?
It smelled like a pigeon had got into the air conditioner and laid a rotten egg. Or died.
Kolabati stiffened beside him. He didn't know whether she’d smelled it, too, or whether something had frightened her. He thought he heard her say something in a tense whisper that sounded like 'My gosh!'
She rolled on top of him and clung like a drowning sailor to a floating spar.
An aura of nameless fear enveloped Jack. He sensed something was terribly wrong, but could not say what. He listened for a foreign sound but all that came to him were the low hums, each in a different key, of the air conditioners in each of the three rooms. He reached for the 9mm Glock he kept under the mattress, but Kolabati hugged him tighter.
'Don't move,' she whispered in a voice he could barely hear. 'Just lie here under me and don't say a word.'
Jack opened his mouth to speak but she covered his lips with her own. The pressure of her bare breasts against his chest, her hips on his, the tingle of her necklace as it dangled from her neck against his throat, the caresses of her hands—all worked toward blotting out the odor.
Yet he sensed a desperation about her that prevented him from releasing himself to the sensations. His eyes kept opening and straying to the window, to the door, to the hall that led past the TV room to the darkened front room, then back to the window. Without reason, a small part of him expected someone or something—a person, an animal—to come through the door. He knew it was impossible—the front door was locked, the windows were three stories up. Crazy. Yet the feeling persisted.
And persisted.
He did not know how long he lay there, tense and tight under Kolabati, itching for the comfortable feel of a pistol grip in his palm. It felt like half the night.
Nothing happened. Eventually, the odor began to fade. And with it the sensation of the presence of another. Jack felt himself begin to relax and, finally, begin to respond to Kolabati.
But Kolabati suddenly had different ideas. She jumped up from the bed and padded into the front room for her clothes.
Jack followed and watched her slip into her underwear with brisk, almost frantic movements.
'What's wrong?'
'I have to get home.'
'Back to DC?' His heart sank. Not yet. She intrigued him so.
'No. To my brother's. I'm staying with him.'
'I don't understand. Is it something I—'
Kolabati leaned over and kissed him. 'Nothing you did. Something
'What's the hurry?'
'I must speak to him immediately.'
She let the dress fall over her head and stepped into her shoes. She turned to go but the apartment door stopped her.
'How does this work?'
Jack turned the central knob that retracted the four bars, then pulled it open for her.
'Wait till I get some clothes on and I'll find you a cab.'
'I haven't time to wait. And I can wave my arm in the air as well as anyone.'
'You'll be back?' The answer was very important to him at the moment. He didn't know why. He hardly knew her.
'Yes, if I can be.' Her eyes were troubled. For an instant he thought he detected a hint of fear in them. 'I hope
