Page 49 of The New Girl

Sarah pointed toward a single car, a Mercedes S-Class sedan, moving across the landscape. It passed through the intersection where Khalid’s child had been taken—click-click, click-click, click-click—and disappeared from view. Gabriel allowed thirty seconds to elapse and then started the Range Rover’s engine.

The rattle of the prayer beads grew more insistent as the Mercedes made the final run toward Khalid’s château. Rafiq al-Madani murmured an Arabic expression of surprise that the gold-crowned iron gate was open. He was surprised, too, to find none other than Khalid himself waiting outside in the cold of the motor court.

There followed the opening and closing of a well-made car door and the usual Islamic greetings of peace. Next came the sound of footfalls, first on gravel, then marble. Al-Madani remarked about the lack of light in the entrance hall. Khalid explained, somewhat genially, that his four-hundred-million-euro palace had faulty wiring.

The remark elicited from al-Madani a staccato laugh. It would be his last. There was a struggle, very brief, followed by the sound of several blows connecting with a cheekbone and jaw. Later, Gabriel would chastise Keller and Mikhail for using excessive force to neutralize their subject. Both took exception to his characterization. It was Khalid who had administered the terrible beating, they said, not they.

By the time Gabriel turned into the motor court, the compromised phone had been switched off and was no longer emitting a signal. Mikhail was inflicting permanent damage to the right arm of the driver, who had foolishly refused a polite request to hand over his weapon. Inside the château, Keller was duct-taping a semiconscious Rafiq al-Madani to a chair in the great hall. His Royal Highness Prince Khalid bin Mohammed Abdulaziz Al Saud was twirling a set of prayer beads around the first two fingers of his left hand. And in his right hand was a gun.

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Haute-Savoie, France

It took Rafiq al-Madanianother moment or two to fully appreciate the severity of his circumstances. Slowly, his chin rose from his chest and his eyes cast uncertainly around the enormous room. They settled first on his future regent, who was still fiddling with the prayer beads, and then on Gabriel. They were soft and brown, al-Madani’s eyes, like the eyes of a deer. With his elongated face and unruly dark hair, he bore an unfortunate resemblance to Osama bin Laden.

Another moment passed before al-Madani recognized the face of Israel’s intelligence chief. The soft brown eyes widened. The Saudi was frightened, observed Gabriel, but not surprised.

Al-Madani looked contemptuously at Khalid and addressed him in Saudi Arabic. “I see you brought along your friend the Jew to do your dirty work. And you wonder why you have so many enemies at home.”

Khalid lashed out with the butt of the pistol. Al-Madani glared at Sarah as blood flowed from a gash above his left eye. “Cover your face in my presence, you American bitch!”

Khalid raised the weapon in anger.

“No!” shouted Sarah. “Not again.”

When Khalid lowered the gun, al-Madani managed to smile through his pain. “Taking orders from a woman? Soon you’ll be dressing like one, too.”

Khalid struck him again. Sarah winced at the sound of bone cracking.

“Where is she?” demanded Khalid.

“Who?” asked al-Madani through a mouthful of blood.

“My daughter.”

“How should I know?”

“Because you’re in contact with the kidnappers.” Khalid seized al-Madani’s phone from Keller. “Shall I show you the text messages?”

Al-Madani said nothing.

Khalid quickly pressed his advantage. “Why did you harm my daughter, Rafiq? Why didn’t you just kill me instead?”

“I tried, but it couldn’t be done. You were too well protected.”

The sudden confession surprised even Khalid. “I treated you well, did I not?”

“You treated me like a servant. You used me as a means of keeping the ulema in line while you gave women the right to drive and befriended the Americans and the Jews.”

“We have to change, Rafiq.”

“Islam is the answer!”

“Islam is the problem,habibi.”

“You are an apostate,” seethed al-Madani.

There was no greater insult in Islam. Khalid endured the charge with admirable restraint. “Who put you up to this, Rafiq?”