The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2003

ridor to the right. I found him standing at his terrarium feeding his turtles. “Liza, do you need something for this afternoon’s com- mittee meeting?” “You were just in with Captain Lauer talking about Eric Fleet again.” I was breathing hard from my hike up the stairs. “It is quite unpleasant, but it appears we must all do so.” Tordorov opened a small pillbox and brought some- thing out — dead flies. Suddenly I realized what didn’t fit. “You told Captain Lauer you never met Fleet. But you did — you told both Jay and me that he was a horrible man. How would you know that if you had never met him?” Tordorov became still for a moment, then slowly dropped several flies into the turtles’ dish. “I didn’t for- mally meet him. Mr. Fleet just burst into my office yes- terday and started talking about your under secretary’s keynote address. He never introduced himself or asked my name. He even ignored my hand when I offered to shake.” Dr. Tordorov’s voice was tight with anger. “Eric Fleet was going to have the under secretary take the credit for the convention on TEDs,” I said. “A pre- mature announcement would have jeopardized the agree- ment’s success.” “You think it would only have jeopardized the agree- ment? Oh no, an announcement would have killed the agreement! All the committee members, all the WTO delegates, they all would have listened respectfully to the under secretary and applauded his words, but they would have been secretly laughing at me. Because they all knew that when we went back to the committee once more, the members would no longer respect my leadership or be willing to follow my guidance. The entire negotiation would have failed. I would have been a failure!” I wanted to step back from the venom in his words, but instead I took a step forward and spoke more softly. “And that’s why you followed Eric Fleet down the corridor the other night. You wanted to talk to him— to convince him that the under secretary shouldn’t talk about the TEDs.” Tordorov looked over at me curiously, as if I had sud- denly become some sort of interesting specimen to be examined under a microscope. I pressed on. “I can imagine Eric Fleet didn’t welcome your request; he was probably very rude. It’s easy to see how it could have happened. Fleet was behaving obnoxiously; you, Dr. Tordorov, were desperate. And someone had convenient- ly left a cafeteria tray with the dirty dishes near by. Since you were trained as a physician, it must have been easy to stab Fleet so that he made no cry and bled so little.” “You misjudge me, Liza; it wasn’t easy.” His voice was bleak. “It was very uncivilized, but it was necessary to pro- tect my work. After the many years I lost in my own coun- try, I had this one opportunity for professional respect. But in order to get more glory for his own boss, Mr. Fleet was going to destroy it all. That, of course, I could not allow.” He continued, “When I heard you coming down the hall looking for him, I went into the connecting supply room and waited until a crowd had gathered. No one noticed me coming out.” It was then that I realized I had ventured too far into Tordorov’s office. We were now in the middle of the room facing each other, and it would be difficult to back out gracefully. In fact, it would be difficult to get out at all if he didn’t cooperate. His eyes followed mine as I glanced at the doorway and he reached the same conclusion. “Poor Liza,” he said. “You just wanted to find out what had happened so those policemen would stop harassing you, but that was a mistake. I must continue my work. This is my last chance, and I will not allow anyone to stop me.” Tordorov took a step forward. I took a step back. “What Eric Fleet did was wrong,” I agreed. “He was evil. We should tell the police so that everyone will learn the truth of how he was trying to destroy what we had worked on.” I continued slowly backing up as he moved forward. “That would not be very productive, Liza. I cannot work if I am locked up in prison. The authorities put me there once, and I will not go back.” I was glad to see it wasn’t a knife Dr. Tordorov held in his hand, until I realized that the heavy paperweight could be just as effective a weapon. I had completely F O C U S 26 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 3 He looked over at me curiously, as if I had suddenly become some sort of interesting specimen to be examined under a microscope.