Paris, FranceCamara pointed to a mountainous area east of the Tigris in the governorate of Nineveh. Sebastian bent to look more closely until his cheek almost brushed against hers. The professor didn’t move away and for a moment, Martin thought perhaps he should leave them alone to catch up.
A second later, Camara stepped away, her face slightly flushed.
She switched on the samovar and as the water boiled, she gathered three tiny glasses and placed a sugar cube at the bottom of each. “If we’re going to talk about the Middle East, then let’s do it with traditional hospitality.”
As she siphoned the tea from the samovar, the smell of mint and herbs filled the air. Martin took a sip of the dark green liquid, grateful for the sugar as it tasted like some kind of foul medicine. Sebastian dran
