Misplaced (45 page)

“S
o
thi
s
i
s
wher
e
yo
u
pl
y
you
r
trade,
”
V
ictori
a
sai
d
casually.

“
T
aking
notes,
are
you?”
Murgat
asked,
turning
his
wolfish
y
ellow-gree
n
e
y
e
s
o
n
her
.
The
n
h
e
remo
v
e
d
th
e
camer
a
fro
m
its
perch and checked it.

“Just stating the obvious,”
V
ictoria noted.

I
n a
plai
n
whit
e
blous
e
an
d
n
o
makeup
,
Khar
a
held
V
ictoria’s dri
v
e
r
’s license tightly in her right hand.

“
Y
ou
’
re
going
to
see
a
flash,”
V
ictoria
w
arned,
“but
it’s
only a function of the instrument.”

“After
w
ards, will I ha
v
e an official
document like yours?”

“Y
ou
’
l
l
ha
v
e
somethin
g
better,
”
sh
e
promised
,
pointin
g
to
th
e
car
d
clenche
d
bet
w
ee
n
Khara’
s
fingers
.
“Tha
t
i
s
onl
y
for
driving.
Y
ou
’
ll
ha
v
e
a
passport.
W
ith
it,
w
e
can
tra
v
el
across
the borders of other countries.”

Murga
t
guide
d
Khar
a
t
o
th
e
stoo
l
an
d
tilte
d
he
r
chin
f
o
r
w
a
r
d
.
“N
ow
,
j
u
s
t
l
oo
k
th
i
s
w
a
y
a
n
d
ho
l
d
it…h
o
l
d
i
t
,
”
h
e instructed. “No, no, this
w
ay a bit.”

She
grimaced
at
the
first few
blasts
of
light,
and
closed
her e
y
es
after that.
T
w
enty-thousand
dollars
had, ho
w
e
v
er, bought a
consummat
e
professiona
l
wit
h
th
e
patienc
e
o
f
a
saint
.
Murgat
stood silent and unruffled,
e
v
en letting
V
ictoria coach Khara.

“I
’
l
l
count—one
,
two
,
three
.
Whe
n I
sa
y
three
,
ope
n
your
e
y
es and smile.”

“Why?”

“Becaus
e
you
’
r
e
havin
g
you
r
phot
o
t
aken
,
an
d
th
e
timing
has to be just right.”

Khara
did
her
best
to
follow
the
instructions.
She
closed
her
e
y
es. “Shouldn’t a likeness inspire admiration and respect?”

“No
t
al
w
ays
;
sometime
s
they
’
r
e
jus
t
fo
r
fun
.
Imagin
e
ho
w
much
more
authentic
the
portrait
of
a
king
would
be
if
he
w
ere
laughing, or playing with his dog.”

“If
only
you
knew
the
hours
upon
hours
spent
pre
v
enting
jus
t
suc
h
a
n
ordinar
y
image,
”
Khar
a
ans
w
ered
,
sounding
slightly anno
y
ed.

Th
e
slappin
g
o
f
Murgat’
s
ru
bb
e
r
sol
e
o
n
t
h
e
floo
r
w
ent
unheeded.

“I’
m
read
y
now,
”
Khar
a
announced
.
Sh
e
sa
t
stiffly
,
her
hands folded in her lap and a confused expression on her face.

T
ucking
a
strand
of
greasy
hair
behind
his
ear,
he
bent
o
v
er
the camera.

“
Ar
e
yo
u
comfortable?
”
Murga
t
pause
d
t
o
dra
g
a
ligh
t
closer
to
the
stool.
“Sorry
’bout
the
music;
something
for
e
v
eryone,
I
guess.
”
H
e
ga
v
e
Kha
V
ictoria
w
as
becoming
accustomed
to
the
effect
Khara
had
o
n
people
,
an
d
w
a
s
workin
g
o
n
a
nicknam
e
fo
r
it
.
Her
e
w
as
Murgat
,
a
convicte
d
felon
,
trippin
g
al
l
o
v
e
r
himself
.
A
t
first
she
’
d
though
t
o
f
i
t
simpl
y
a
s
charisma—o
r
be
t
te
r
y
et
,
Kharisma.
Bu
t
e
v
e
n
tha
t
faile
d
t
o
captur
e
hi
s
incapacitatio
n
a
s
h
e
obser
v
ed
the
Egyptian
girl
through
his
lens.
No,
it
had
to
be
something
o
v
er
the
top,
which
is
when
Kharissima
hit
her.
This
girl
had
it
in spades.

A
fe
w
moment
s
later
,
h
e
looke
d
a
t
V
ictori
a
a
s
thoug
h
h
e
had
forgotten
she
w
as
there,
and
then
told
Khara,
“
All
right,
miss,
w
e
’
r
e
done.
”
Hi
s
e
y
e
s
narro
w
e
d
an
d
somethin
g
i
n
hi
s
voice
changed
as
he
held
out
an
ink-stained
hand.
“
Y
ou
o
w
e
me
ten
now, and the rest when I deli
v
er,” he informed
V
ictoria.