Day 1: Shots Mag
Day 3: Col's Criminal Library
Leila leaned in to the man’s desk. She was too small to loom over anything, but she could lean in. In English, and too loudly, and in her best imitation of importance, she said, “I am an officer of an agency recognized by the UN”—a meaningless statement, but it had officer and agency and UN in it. “You cannot prevent me from taking custody of my shipment.” She actually stamped her foot.
The underling blanched and receded. At the far end of the room, the klatch quit stirring its tea.
Then Leila said very quietly, in Burmese, “I know this is not your fault. I will leave you. But tell me where Zeya is now. He is the one I need to speak to.”
Leila worked alone; she had to be both good cop and bad cop.
The man squinted at her. She often got that squint when she used Burmese; her accent was probably pretty bad. But then his eyes widened and softened, and she thought that he was going to take this deal.
In a quick and quiet utterance, in a mix of two languages, he said to Leila, “It is day three. He is with the bird people on day three.”
The Burmese numbered their days of the week. He meant Tuesday. But what the fuck were bird people?
Sticking to Burmese, Leila said, “How do I get my boxes? Why does Zeya make it so hard for me?”
And the underling, in English, and looking sorry to report it, said, “Lady, they do not want you here. Maybe, if you pay the taxes, and you do not bring in too much, you will get your boxes. But I think they do not want you here no way.”
In a quick and quiet utterance, in a mix of two languages, he said to Leila, “It is day three. He is with the bird people on day three.”
The Burmese numbered their days of the week. He meant Tuesday. But what the fuck were bird people?
Sticking to Burmese, Leila said, “How do I get my boxes? Why does Zeya make it so hard for me?”
And the underling, in English, and looking sorry to report it, said, “Lady, they do not want you here. Maybe, if you pay the taxes, and you do not bring in too much, you will get your boxes. But I think they do not want you here no way.”
About the Author:
David Shafer is a graduate of Harvard and the Columbia Journalism School. He has lived in Argentina and Dublin, and worked as a journalist, a carpenter and a taxi driver. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife and children. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is his first book.
David Shafer's acclaimed Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: A brilliant, visionary and deeply human cyber-thriller;
Deep
in the forest near Burma's border with China, a young woman sees
something she wasn't supposed to see. In Portland, Oregon, a troubled
young man crashes his bicycle on his way to work - and then gets fired. In New York, a famous self-help author goes on daytime TV - and suddenly
conceives 'a book that would take him beyond talk shows'. What connects
these three people - though they don't know it yet - is that they have
come to the attention of the Committee, a global cabal that seeks to
privatize all information. And each of them will, in their different
ways, come to take part in the secret resistance struggle spearheaded by
a scarily clever hacktivist collective - a struggle built on radical
politics, classic spycraft and eye-popping technology. Along the way,
they are forced to confront their own demons, reconsider their values,
and contemplate the meaning of love, family, friendship and community.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is at once a page-turning thriller, a deeply
absorbing psychological novel, and a visionary exploration of the
possibilities and hazards of our online lives.
Out now in paperback and e-book
To get your hands on one, please email thewelshlibrarian@yahoo.co.uk or tweet me @WelshLibrarian before Midnight, Monday 12th June.
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