Page 17 of The New Girl

“I’m too busy worrying about which one is planning to kill me.” Gabriel glanced at his wristwatch. “Where the hell is he?”

“Welcome to KBM time. It’s an hour and twenty minutes later than the rest of the world.”

“I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“He’s testing you.”

“He shouldn’t.”

“What are you going to do? Leave?”

Gabriel ran his palm over the silken fabric of the couch. “It’s not so crude, is it?”

“You didn’t really believe all that?”

“Of course not. I’m just wondering why he bothered to say it at all.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because men who tell one lie usually tell others.”

A sudden commotion erupted among the white-robed courtiers as Crown Prince Khalid bin Mohammed entered the tent. He was dressed traditionally in athobeandghutra, but unlike the other men he also wore abisht, a brown ceremonial cloak trimmed in gold. He was holding it closed with his left hand. With his right he was pressing a mobile phone to his ear. The same phone, Gabriel assumed, that Unit 8200 had compromised. He could only wonder who else might be listening—the Americans and their partners in the Five Eyes, perhaps even the Russians or the Iranians.

Khalid terminated the call and stared at Gabriel as though astonished to see Israel’s avenging angel in the land of the Prophet. After a moment he crossed the richly carpeted floor, warily. So did four heavily armed bodyguards. Even when surrounded by his closest aides, thought Gabriel, KBM feared for his life.

“Director Allon.” The Saudi did not offer his hand, which was still clutching the phone. “It was good of you to come on such short notice.”

Gabriel nodded once but said nothing.

Khalid looked at Sarah. “Are you under there somewhere, Miss Bancroft?”

The black mound moved in the affirmative.

“Please remove your abaya.”

Sarah lifted the veil from her face and draped it over her head like a scarf, leaving a portion of her hair visible.

“Much better.” It was obvious that Khalid’s bodyguards did not agree. They quickly averted their eyes and fixed them coldly on Gabriel. “You must forgive my security men, Director Allon. They’re not accustomed to seeing Israelis on Saudi soil, especially one with a reputation like yours.”

“And what’s that?”

Khalid’s smile was brief and insincere. “I hope your flight was pleasant.”

“Quite.”

“And the drive wasn’t too arduous?”

“Not at all.”

“Something to eat or drink? You must be famished.”

“Actually, I would prefer to—”

“So would I, Director Allon. But I am bound by the traditions of the desert to show hospitality toward a visitor to my camp. Even if the visitor was once my enemy.”

“Sometimes,” said Gabriel, “the only person you can trust is your enemy.”

“Can I trust you?”