Portrait of a Spy

Swiss moneyman, still managed the finances. And the legal team known as Abdul & Abdul still kept things reasonably above board. Accompanied by twenty additional aides, footmen, factotums, and assorted hangers-on, they were all gathered in the VIP lounge of Le Bourget Airport by the time Nadia arrived. At the stroke of ten, they filed onto AAB’s Boeing Business Jet, and by 10:15 they were Zurich bound. They spent the hour-long flight crunching numbers around the conference table and upon arrival at Kloten Airport piled into a convoy of Mercedes sedans. It bore them at considerable speed up the wooded slopes of the Zürichberg to the graceful entrance of the Dolder Grand Hotel, where management escorted them to a conference room with an Alpine-sounding name and a view of the lake that was worth the outrageous price of admission. The delegation from the Swiss optical firm had already arrived and was partaking freely of the lavish buffet. The AAB team sat down and began opening their briefcases and laptops. AAB personnel never ate during meetings. Zizi’s rules.
    The meeting had been scheduled to last two hours. It ran thirty minutes over and concluded with a pledge by Nadia to invest an additional twenty million francs in the Swiss company to help it upgrade its factories and product line. After a few benedictory remarks, the Swiss delegation departed. Crossing the elegant lobby, they passed a thin, lightly bearded Arab in his early forties sitting alone with his briefcase at his side. Five minutes later, a phone call summoned him to the conference room the Swiss had just vacated. Waiting there alone was a beautiful woman of unimpeachable jihadist credentials.
    “May God’s blessings be upon you,” she said in Arabic.
    “And upon you as well,” Samir Abbas responded in the same language. “I trust your meeting with the Swiss went well.”
    “Earthly matters,” said Nadia with a dismissive wave of her hand.
    “God has been very generous to you,” Abbas said. “I’ve put together some proposals on how I think your money should be invested.”
    “I don’t need investment advice from you, Mr. Abbas. I do quite well on my own.”
    “Then how might I be of service, Miss al-Bakari?”
    “You may begin by having a seat. And then you can switch off your BlackBerry. One can never be too careful these days when it comes to electronic devices. You never know who might be listening.”
    “I understand completely.”
    She managed to smile. “I’m sure you do.”

Chapter 39
Zurich

    T HEY SAT ON OPPOSITE SIDES of the conference table, with no refreshment other than bottles of Swiss mineral water, which neither of them touched. Between them lay two smart phones, screens dark, SIM cards removed. Having averted his gaze from Nadia’s unveiled face, Samir Abbas appeared to be studying the chandelier above his head. Concealed amid the lights and crystal was a miniature short-range transmitter installed earlier that morning by Mordecai and Oded. They were now monitoring its signal from a room on the fourth floor, all charges paid in full by the National Clandestine Service of the Central Intelligence Agency. Gabriel was listening at the safe house on the opposite shore of the lake via a secure microwave link. His lips were moving slightly, as if he were trying to feed Nadia her next line.
    “I would like to begin by offering you my sincerest apology,” she said.
    Abbas appeared momentarily perplexed. “You’ve recently deposited two hundred million dollars in the financial institution for which I work, Miss al-Bakari. I cannot imagine why you would apologize.”
    “Because not long after my father’s death, you asked me to make a donation to one of the Islamic charities with which you are associated. I turned you away—rather brusquely, if I remember correctly.”
    “I was wrong to have approached you at so sensitive a time.”
    “I know you only had my best interests at heart. Zakat is extremely important to our faith. In fact, my father believed the giving of alms to be the most important of the Five Pillars of Islam.”
    “Your father was generous to a fault. I could always count on him when we were in need.”
    “He always spoke very highly of you, Mr. Abbas.”
    “And of you as well, Miss al-Bakari. Your father loved you dearly. I cannot imagine the pain of your loss. Take peace in the knowledge that your father is with God in Paradise.”
    “ Inshallah, ” she said wistfully, “but I’m afraid