Page 33 of Portrait of an Unknown Woman

14

Le Bristol Paris

She was staying at the Crillon, in the Leonard Bernstein suite. He was one of the few conductors, she added with a laugh, with whom she had never been romantically linked.

“Are you there now?”

“Actually, I interrupted my rehearsal to take your call. The entire Orchestre de Chambre de Paris is hanging on my every word.”

“When will you be back at your hotel?”

“Not until four. But I have press interviews scheduled until six.”

“My condolences.”

“I plan on misbehaving terribly.”

“How about a drink downstairs in Les Ambassadeurs when you’re finished?”

“Let’s have dinner instead.”

“Dinner?”

“It’s a meal that most people take in the early evening. Unless one is Spanish, of course. I’ll ask the concierge to book us a quiet table for two at the most romantic restaurant in Paris. With any luck, the paparazzi will find us, and ascandalewill ensue.”

Before Gabriel could object, the connection was lost. He brieflyconsidered alerting Chiara to his new dilemma but thought it unwise. Instead, he dialed the number for Valerie Bérrangar’s missing phone. Once again the call went straight to her voice mail.

He rang off and scrolled through his contacts until he arrived at the entry for Yuval Gershon. Yuval was the director-general of Unit 8200, Israel’s formidable signals intelligence service. Gabriel had not spoken to him—or any of his old colleagues, for that matter—since leaving Israel. It was a momentous step, one that would invite future contact, perhaps unwanted. Still, Gabriel reckoned it was worth the risk. If anyone could locate Madame Bérrangar’s phone, it was Yuval and his hackers at the Unit.

He answered instantly, as though he had been anticipating Gabriel’s call. Given the Unit’s extraordinary capabilities, it was not beyond the realm of possibility.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

“Almost as much as the hole in my chest.”

“So why are you calling?”

“I have a problem only you can solve.”

Yuval exhaled heavily into the phone. “What’s the number?”

Gabriel recited it.

“And the problem?”

“The owner was murdered a few days ago. I have a feeling the killers were dumb enough to take her phone. I’d like you to find it for me.”

“It won’t be a problem if the device is still intact. But if they smashed it to pieces or dropped it into the Seine—”

“Why did you mention the Seine, Yuval?”

“Because you’re calling from Paris.”

“Bastard.”

“I’ll send up a flare when I have something. And have fun at dinner tonight.”

“How did you know about dinner?”