Portrait of a Spy

allow you to go to Dubai or whether we should call Samir back and tell him you’re too busy to make the trip.”
    “Why would we tell him that?”
    “I’ll answer that question in a moment,” Gabriel said. “But first I want you to listen to another recording.”
    He reached for the remote and pressed play.

Chapter 52
The City, London

    W HAT’S HIS NAME ?”
    “I’m not going to tell you.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because it doesn’t matter. And knowing it would only place you in danger later.”
    “You do think of everything.”
    “We try, but sometimes even we make mistakes.”
    She asked to hear the recording again. Gabriel pressed play.
    “He sounds Jordanian to me,” Nadia said, listening intently.
    “He is Jordanian.” Gabriel paused the recording. “He’s also one of the most brutal terrorists any of us have ever encountered. We’ve suspected for some time he was involved with Rashid’s network. Now we’re sure of it.”
    “How?”
    “The same way you know he’s a Jordanian.”
    “The sound of his voice?”
    Gabriel nodded. “Unfortunately, we know it too well. We heard it when he was dispatching shahid s to bomb the cafés and buses of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. And our American friends heard it on the airwaves of the Sunni Triangle when he was helping to bring chaos to Iraq. But it’s been a long time since we’ve heard from him—so long, in fact, that some members of our fraternity actually deluded themselves into believing he was dead. Unfortunately, this call proves he’s very much alive.”
    Nadia seemed to have run out of questions for now. She looked at Carter and Graham Seymour and frowned.
    “I see you’ve brought along your partners.”
    “We felt it was time for you to get acquainted.”
    “Who are they?”
    “The dignified gentleman with gray hair is Graham. He’s British.”
    “Obviously.” Her gaze shifted to Carter. “And him?”
    “That’s Adrian.”
    “American?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    Her gaze swept across Gabriel and settled once again on Shamron.
    “Where did you find this one?”
    “In the deepest well of time.”
    “Does he have a name?”
    “He prefers to be called Herr Heller.”
    “What does Herr Heller do?”
    “Mostly, he steals secrets. Sometimes, he thinks of innovative ways to neutralize terrorist groups. It’s because of Herr Heller that you’re here now. It was his idea to ask you to penetrate Rashid’s network.”
    “Does he think I should attend the meeting in Dubai next week?”
    “It is an opportunity he finds hard to resist. But he has concerns about the authenticity of the invitation. And he would never allow you to go into a situation where he could not guarantee your safety.”
    “I’ve stayed at the Burj Al Arab many times. It never struck me as a particularly dangerous place. Unless it’s filled with Brits,” she added with a glance at Graham Seymour. “Your countrymen tend to let their hair down a bit too much when they’re in Dubai.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    She looked at Gabriel again and said, “I read in the newspapers that the terrorists suffered a major setback last week. The American president sounded very pleased.”
    “He had a right to.”
    “I assume my money had something to do with it.”
    “Your money had every thing to do with it.”
    “So you’ve dealt Rashid’s network a serious blow.”
    Gabriel nodded slowly.
    “But not a permanent blow?”
    “Nothing about this business is permanent, Nadia.”
    “Do you have enough information to locate Rashid?”
    “Not at the moment.”
    “What about the man whose name you won’t tell me?”
    Gabriel shook his head. “We don’t know what name he’s using, what kind of passport he’s carrying, or even what he looks like.”
    “But you do know that he would like to see me next Thursday evening in Dubai.” Nadia drew a cigarette from her handbag and ignited it. “It seems to me the choice is obvious, Mr. Allon. Having destroyed the network, you must now cut off the head. Otherwise, you’ll all be back here in a year or two, trying to figure out how to break a new network.”
    Gabriel stared directly at Shamron without speaking. Finally, with an almost imperceptible nod of his head, Shamron nudged him forward.
    “We lie for a living,” Gabriel said, looking at Nadia again, “but we consider ourselves men of our word. To that end, we made a promise to you, and we would like to keep it.”
    “What promise was that?”
    “We asked