Page 7 of Cold Bastard

Blackwood took another step in her direction, but Zoe forced herself to stay put. “How dare you!”

“I know what was said, but if you’re not interested in knowing it or actually using my brain and experience, you can shove that tape up your ass and find yourself another interpreter.”

As the words flew out of her mouth, Zoe was tempted to wince and slap herself in the back of her head. What good would she do if she was fired in the second hour of her employment? Part of her didn’t want to take any bullshit from him, another part knew that she may have to make concessions to achieve her mission, even if it meant scratching her pride and suffering his condescending tone.

“You hesitated.” His tone was warm as sleet.

“Not because I didn’t understand the words.”

Now he crossed his arms, and Zoe thought she heard the seams screech against his bulging arms.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“The accent. The words they say, they aren’t saying anything of great interest. They speak about how they despise the weather. The dialect is Gulf Arabic, same as in the previous video, but there’s a strange accent now. As if alcohol or fatigue had made them less careful. The overall grammar and pronunciation are perfect, but there is a... drawl... for lack of a better word, that shouldn’t be there. And that wasn’t noticeable in the first video.”

Blackwood turned to the screen and looked at the freeze frame before turning back to her. The annoyance was gone, replaced by interest and calculation. “What’s your take on that drawl?”

An actual question in a polite tone? Zoe was tempted to whistle, impressed. “Difficult to say. I think it may be caused by speaking in one language and thinking in another. When you’re tired or inebriated, there is a risk of slipping. However, if they are Muslims, alcohol may not be the reason.”

“So, you’re saying that Arabic is not their first language?”

“Possibly. On the other hand, I’m only posing a hypothesis.”

For a long moment he looked at her before nodding and taking out his phone. “Thank you, Ms. Somersby.” And he was gone.

Zoe let out a long sigh. What was all that about? She would need to tell Gabrielle about it. And find a way to prevent him from making her head spin.