He shrugged, looking slightly awkward.

"Pure superstition. Another mark of an old flier," he said. "I'll tell you if you insist, but--"

She held up her hand. "Far be it from me to lay on the jinx. Being an old flier's wife, I know how to sit back and keep my fingers crossed until you're ready. Just don't forget that I'm waiting for the dish."

They were silent for a bit, eating their breakfasts, Jack and Jill watching Gordian's fork with undeviating involvement. On the stereo, Fats Waller belted out a line about someone's pedaling extremities being obnoxious. Gordian smiled almost imperceptibly and ate with increasing relish.

All at once, Ashley wanted to reach over and hold him tightly in her arms. But she refrained, just as she had chosen not to ask him any questions about what had occurred in Brazil. She would not do that, not yet, though what little she already knew made her suspect it represented an impending threat to her husband's safety that, like others he'd had to face in the past, would keep her tossing restlessly in bed tonight and for many nights to come, fearing it might take him from her forever.

Their breakfasts finished now, they sat listening to the stereo in the fresh grass-scented air and sunshine pouring through the veranda's open louvers. His plate cleaned off except for a single wedge of toast, Gordian glanced down at each of the dogs and then gave Ashley a questioning glance.

"I don't think you should," she said. "But if you go ahead and do it, there'd better be no complaints about the rotten, hungry hounds to me or Julia afterward."

He lifted the toast from his plate and portioned it out between the dogs--Jack consuming his half with what appeared to be a single inhalation, Jill accepting hers somewhat more demurely, and then licking Gordian's fingers as if to make up to him for having bashed the table.

"Such salivating adoration," Ashley said.

He wiped his hand on his pants and looked at her.

"Mind if I ask you something now?" he said.

"Sure."

"I was wondering why you put on the stereo."

Their eyes met.

"Easy," she said with a shrug. "I suddenly remembered that Fats Waller's always been one of your favorites."

He kept looking at her.

"Well, that explains your choice of music," he said. "Not your uncharacteristic timing. Since you always say you enjoy your morning peace and quiet."

She smiled.

"Surely you've guessed," she said.

"No," he said honestly. "I don't have a clue."

She moved closer beside him.

"It's a female thing," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Now be still, dear husband, and maybe I'll explain it to you later."

EIGHT - NORTHERN ALBANIA APRIL 18, 2001

EIGHT

NORTHERN ALBANIA APRIL 18, 2001