Portrait of a Spy

work with you, Nadia. And so do I.”
    Nadia stared silently into the fire for a moment. “I have listened to your proposal,” she said finally, “and I’ve answered as many questions as I intend to. Now you have to answer a few of mine.”
    “You may ask me anything you wish.”
    Nadia gave the faintest trace of a smile. “Maybe we should drink some of the wine I brought. I’ve always found that a good bottle of Latour can take the edge off even the most unpleasant conversation.”

Chapter 32
Seraincourt, France

    N ADIA WATCHED G ABRIEL’S HANDS CAREFULLY as he uncorked the wine. He poured out two glasses, keeping one for himself and handing the other to her.
    “None for Max?”
    “Max doesn’t drink.”
    “Max is an Islamic fundamentalist?”
    “Max is a teetotaler.”
    Gabriel raised his glass a fraction of an inch in salutation. Nadia declined to reciprocate. She placed the wineglass on the table with what seemed to Gabriel to be inordinate care.
    “There were a number of questions about my father’s death that I was never able to answer,” she said after a prolonged silence. “I need you to answer them now.”
    “I’m limited in what I can say.”
    “I would advise you to rethink that position. Otherwise—”
    “What is it you wish to know, Nadia?”
    “Was he targeted for assassination from the beginning?”
    “Quite the opposite.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that the Americans made it abundantly clear that your father was far too important to be treated like a normal terrorist. He wasn’t a member of the royal family, but he was the next best thing—a descendant of an old-line merchant family from the Nejd who claimed blood ties to none other than Muhammad Abdul Wahhab himself.”
    “And that made him untouchable in the eyes of the Americans?”
    “‘Radioactive’ was the word they used.”
    “So what happened?”
    “Sarah happened.”
    “They hurt her?”
    “They almost killed her.”
    Nadia was silent for a moment. “How did you get her back?”
    “We fight on a secret battlefield, but we consider ourselves soldiers, and we never leave one of our own in the hands of our enemies.”
    “How noble of you.”
    “You may not always agree with our goals and methods, Nadia, but we do try to operate by a certain code. Occasionally, our enemies do as well. But not your father. Your father played by his own rules. Zizi’s rules.”
    “And for that he was killed on a crowded street in Cannes.”
    “Would you have preferred London? Or Geneva? Or Riyadh?”
    “I would have preferred not to have watched my father being gunned down in cold blood.”
    “We would have preferred the same thing. Unfortunately, we had no other choice.”
    A heavy silence fell over the room. Nadia stared directly into Gabriel’s face. There was no anger in her eyes, only the faintest trace of sadness.
    “You still haven’t told me your name,” she said finally. “That’s hardly the foundation of a strong and trusting partnership.”
    “I believe you already know my name, Nadia.”
    “I do,” she said after a moment. “And if the terrorists and their supporters in the House of Saud ever learn that I am working with Gabriel Allon, the very same man who killed my father, they will declare me an apostate. Then, at the first opportunity, they will slit my throat.” She paused, then added, “Not your throat, Mr. Allon. Mine.”
    “We are well aware of the danger involved in what we are asking of you, and we will do everything within our power to ensure your safety. Each step of your journey will be as carefully planned and executed as this meeting.”
    “But that’s not what I’m asking, Mr. Allon. I need to know whether you will protect me.”
    “You have my word,” he replied without hesitation.
    “The word of a man who killed my father.”
    “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to change the past.”
    “No,” she said, “only the future.”
    She looked at Eli Lavon, who was doing an admirable job of concealing his displeasure over what had just transpired, then gazed out the windows overlooking the terraced garden.
    “We have a few more minutes of daylight,” she said finally. “Why don’t we take a walk, Mr. Allon? There’s one more thing I need to tell you.”
    They set out along a gravel footpath between columns of swaying cypress pines. Nadia walked at Gabriel’s right shoulder. At first, she seemed wary of getting too close, but as they moved deeper