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Show HALF FRAME Garrett is standing on the deck of the boat, at the rail, looking out. The sky and the sea are welded together now, made of precisely the same slate gray, and above the watery seam the sun and the moon are both faintly visible: two dull disks of white. It is a ghostly double-exposure. With his hand, Garrett shutters his eyes. Behind his hand, Garrett stands at the door of the barn, at the gate, looking up. The Turk's bulging eyes do not blink, his bloodless lips do not move. Garrett stares at Ahmed and Ahmed stares back. Between the two men, the nervous horses paw the ground. It is getting dark-darker still in the barn-but it is a long moment before Garrett can look away, can drop his fingers and release the image of the man suspended in the dry, dusty air. Along with the last light of the Athenian day, the rain is still |
