The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2004

J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 4 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 23 F O C U S O N F S F I C T I O N T HE V ERDERER nthony Riggs removes the chiffon paper from around his recently pur- chased gloves. He relishes the sweet smell of new leather and admires the gloves’ fine craftsman- ship before slipping them onto his bare hands, careful not to set a single finger on the outside surface. The gloves are of exquisite quality, and Anthony believes they will make a fine gift for some lucky relative when he returns to Boston. After all, he plans to wear the gloves just once, and for the briefest of moments. The winter morning is dark at this hour, a condition accentuated by a soup of London’s thickest fog. An- thony looks out the window of the bus in which he is rid- ing. He can barely make out the naked trees and sign- posts by the side of the street, but it does not matter. He has traveled this route countless times in the last 12 months. He knows every street and every house along the way. As the bus finally approaches the desired stop, Anthony sees a luxurious automobile backing out of a driveway in this upscale resi- dential neighborhood. The tail and headlights enter the fog, but do little to illuminate it. Anthony watches the car drive into the street and quickly disappear from view. “Perfect timing,” Anthony says to himself. “Mrs. Dixon is out of the house, and Nigel is home alone.” At the bus stop, Anthony steps into the thick fog and immediately feels the damp air penetrating his clothing like cold fingers wriggling through his black scarf and overcoat. Walking purposefully toward the driveway from which the luxurious automobile has just exited, Anthony eyes the number on the mailbox: 129. He has arrived. Anthony slinks up to the front door, completely undetected, and rings the doorbell. He hears the muf- fled chimes through the walls and waits silently on the low, stone porch. A visi- tor so early in the morning, Anthony knows, will catch the house’s owner by sur- prise and make him hesitant to open the front door. A porch lamp jumps awake above Anthony, but its weak light fragments into a million dull particles in the fog. Just to be sure, Anthony’s face is mostly covered by his low-hanging hat and scarf. The door opens just a crack, enough for Anthony to see the warm glow of a living room lamp behind the suspi- cious slice of face that cau- A A CENTURIES - OLD AFFRONT DRIVES A POLITICAL OFFICER TO PLAN A METICULOUS REVENGE . B Y J OHN D. B OYLL Donald Mulligan