Portrait of a Spy

beginning of the weekend in the Islamic world, the traffic was heavier than on a typical night. Enormous sport-utility vehicles were the norm rather than the exception. Most were driven by bearded men wearing white kandoura s and ghutra s.
    The five cars of Malik’s motorcade were engaged in something like a rolling shell game. They weaved, they swerved, they flashed their high beams for slower traffic to give way—all perfectly appropriate conduct on the anarchic roads of Dubai. Chiara and the three other drivers of the chase team did their best to maintain contact. It was a perilous business. Despite the lawlessness of the roads, the Emirati police didn’t look kindly upon foreigners who got into accidents. Malik knew this, of course. Gabriel wondered what else Malik knew. He was beginning to worry that the elaborate security measures were more than simply precautions, that Malik, as usual, was one step ahead of his enemies.
    They were approaching the port of Jebel Ali. They shot past the glittering Ibn Battuta theme park and shopping mall, then a desalinization plant: Dubai in a snapshot. Gabriel scarcely noticed the landmarks. He was watching the carefully choreographed maneuver occurring on the road directly ahead. Four of the SUVs were now side by side across the four lanes of traffic. They had reduced their speed and were engaged in a blocking tactic. The fifth, the Denali in which Malik was riding, was accelerating rapidly.
    “He’s getting away, Chiara. You have to get past them.”
    “Where?”
    “Find a way.”
    Chiara swerved hard to the left. Then to the right. Each time an SUV blocked the way.
    “Force your way between them.”
    “Gabriel!”
    “Do it!”
    She tried. There was no way through.
    They were nearing the end of the Jebel Ali Free Zone. Beyond it lay the expanse of desert separating Dubai from the emirate of Abu Dhabi. Gabriel could no longer see Malik’s Denali; it was but a distant star in a galaxy of other taillights. Directly ahead, a stoplight switched from green to amber. The four SUVs slowed instantly, surely a first in Dubai, and came to a stop. As car horns began to sound, one of the Malik replicas stepped out and stared at Gabriel for a long moment before dragging his thumb knifelike across his own throat. Gabriel took a quick radio roll call of the team and determined all were safe and accounted for. Then he dialed Nadia’s BlackBerry. There was no answer.

Chapter 61
Dubai

    T HE B OEING B USINESS J ET OWNED and operated by AAB Holdings departed Dubai International Airport at 10:40 that evening. All available evidence suggested that Nadia al-Bakari, the company’s chairwoman, was not on board at the time.
    Her BlackBerry had gone off the air at 10:14 p.m., as her car was crossing Dubai Creek, and was no longer emitting a signal of any kind. In the moments preceding the break, she had been chatting amiably with Rafiq al-Kamal. The last audio captured by the device was a muffled thumping that could have been anything from a death struggle to the sound of Nadia tapping her forefinger on the screen, something she often did while riding in cars. The transmitters hidden in her handbag and clothing were, at the moment of the disruption, far beyond the range of the listening posts inside the Burj Al Arab and therefore provided no clues as to what had transpired.
    Only the GPS beacons remained functional. Eventually, they ceased moving at an empty lot along the Dubai-Hatta Road, not far from the polo club. Gabriel found the Chanel suit at 10:53 p.m. and the watch a few minutes later. He carried the items over to the Land Cruiser and examined them in the light of the dash. The fabric of the suit was torn in several places and there were bloodstains on the collar. The crystal of the watch was smashed, though the inscription on the back remained clearly legible. To the future, Thomas .
    He told Chiara to start back to the hotel, then sent a message to Langley on his BlackBerry. The reply came two minutes later. Gabriel swore softly as he read it.
    “What does it say?”
    “They want us to leave for the airport immediately.”
    “What about Nadia?”
    “There is no Nadia,” Gabriel said, slipping the BlackBerry into his coat pocket. “Not as far as Langley and Shamron are concerned. Not anymore.”
    “So we leave her behind?” asked Chiara angrily, her eyes on the road. “Is that what they want us to do? Use her money and her name and then throw her to the wolves? Do you