“I’m in town for a hostile environment training course,” I replied. “I’m supposed to be flying out to Camp Leatherneck in four or five days. You?”
“Hmm, well good luck with that. A little bird told me that your top brass are being tricky customers over nonmilitary personnel visiting their precious Base since that last blue-on-green incident...”
Incidents where our so-called allies attacked US personnel were increasing.
“Who are you with on this one?
“New York Times.”
“Well, tell them to kick some arses or you could be stuck here for weeks. My insurers are demanding that I attend some sodding training course for journos, too: how to wipe my bleeding nose in a ‘conflict area’, that sort of thing. I’m shipping out to Bastion next week, so we’ll be neighbors. Just got to jump through the usual hoops first.”
Camp Leatherneck was the US Marines’ base in Afghanistan, and Bastion was the equivalent for British forces. I wasn’t delighted to hear that my travel plans were likely to be disrupted, but Liz’s information was invariably accurate: forewarned was forearmed in this job. Liz had spent years, decades even, developing her contacts, and she had fingers on the pulse of the beast that was international news. I made a mental note to contact my editor and see what strings he could pull to get me on my way.
“Is your training at the InterContinental by any chance, Liz? Because if it is, then I’m booked in the same one.”
“Excellent news, Venzi! We can go and get pissed afterwards.”
I really didn’t think that was a good idea: Liz’s drinking sessions were legendary. I definitely wasn’t in that league.
“No way! I can’t keep up with you. You’d be carrying me home.”
“You’re such a lightweight, Lee.”
“That is true – and I intend to keep it that way, so stop trying to lead me astray.”
“Ha! All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl. Come on, let’s go and see who they’ve sent to whip us into shape this time.”
Outside, the air was clean and crisp, the faintest whisper of Spring penetrating the crystal clear morning. The city felt very European, the architecture reflecting the mix of French, German and Italian influences, and, in the distance, I could see the dominating summit of Mont Blanc, snow lying thick on the top like frosting.
Liz linked her arm through mine and we strolled through the city, behaving like a couple of tourists. I had to drag her away from an upscale chocolate shop where they sold crystallized lemons dipped in dark, milk, and white chocolate. We could have easily spent a week’s salary in there, and gorged ourselves stupid under the supercilious eye of the sales assistant.
There was a time when the piercing eye of someone like that would have reduced me to a nervous wreck, but not anymore. I wasn’t twenty and married to a bullying man; I was forty, myself at last, and doing a job I was passionate about.
Less than a half-mile from the Palais des Nations and its long avenue of national flags, the InterContinental was an ugly, 18-story tower in the center of the diplomatic district. In the distance, the Alps outlined the horizon, reminding me, if I needed it, that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.
The receptionist directed us towards to a nondescript, beige-colored conference room, where coffee and croissants awaited us.
Liz dug in with gusto and I decided one more cup of black coffee wouldn’t go amiss.
I thought about what she’d told me, and the probable delays I’d experience. I suspected this was the old Washington two-step. It had happened five years ago when I’d been trying to get into military bases in Iraq. I was shuffled around between departments, each one denying the delay was anything to do with them. I would try to be stoic, but it wasn’t always easy.