Portrait of a Spy

his defection.”
    “Did you ever raise this with your friends in Riyadh?”
    “We tried.”
    “And?”
    “It went nowhere,” Carter admitted. “As you know, the relationship between the House of Saud and the members of the clerical establishment is complicated, to say the least. The al-Saud can’t rule without the support of the ulema . And if they were to move against an influential theologian like Bin Tayyib at our behest . . .”
    “The jihadists might take offense.”
    Nodding his head, Carter delved back into the file folder and produced two sheets of paper—transcripts of NSA intercepts.
    “Our friend from TransArabian Bank made two interesting phone calls from his office this morning—one to Riyadh and a second to Jeddah. In the first call, he says he’s doing business with Nadia al-Bakari. In the second, he says he has a friend who wants to discuss spiritual matters with Sheikh Bin Tayyib. Separately, the two calls appear entirely innocent. But put them together . . .”
    “And it leaves no doubt that Nadia al-Bakari, a woman of unimpeachable jihadist credentials, would like to have a word with the sheikh in private.”
    “To discuss spiritual matters, of course.” Carter returned the transcripts to the file. “The question is,” he said, closing the cover, “do we let her go?”
    “Why wouldn’t we?”
    “Because it would violate all our standing agreements with the Saudi government and its security services. The Hadith clearly states that there shall not be two religions in Arabia. And the al-Saud have made it clear they won’t tolerate two intelligence services, either.”
    “When are you going to realize they are the problem rather than the solution?”
    “The day we no longer need their oil to power our cars and our economy,” Carter said. “We’ve arrested and killed hundreds of Saudi citizens since 9/11, but not inside Saudi Arabia itself. The country is off limits to infidels like us. If Nadia goes to see Sheikh Bin Tayyib, she has to go alone, without backup.”
    “Can we bring the mountain to Muhammad?”
    “If you’re asking whether Bin Tayyib can travel outside Saudi Arabia for a meeting with Nadia, the answer is no. He’s on too many watch lists for that. No European country in its right mind would let him in. If Bin Tayyib bites, we have no choice but to send Nadia up the mountain by herself. And if the al-Saud find out she’s there on our behalf, heads will roll.”
    “Maybe you should have thought of that before you created an entire separate government agency to handle this,” Gabriel said, pointing at the op center beyond the window. “But that’s your problem now, Adrian. Under the terms of our most recent operational accord, this is the point where I hand over the keys and fade quietly into the background.”
    “I’m wondering whether you might accept a few amendments,” said Carter cautiously.
    “I’m listening.”
    “Before I became the leader of the world’s largest counterterrorism force, I actually recruited and ran spies. And if there’s one thing a spy hates, it’s change. You found Nadia. You recruited her. It makes sense for you to continue running her.”
    “You want me to serve as her case officer?”
    “I suppose I do.”
    “Under your supervision, of course.”
    “The White House is adamant that the Agency assume overall control of the operation. I’m afraid my hands are tied.”
    “It’s not like you to hide behind higher authority, Adrian.”
    Carter made no reply. Gabriel appeared to give the matter serious thought, but in reality his mind was already made up. He tilted his head toward the soundproof glass and asked, “Do you have any room out there for me?”
    Carter smiled. “I’ve already made an ID badge so you can get into the building unescorted,” he said. “It’s green, of course.”
    “Green is the color of our enemy.”
    “Islam isn’t the enemy, Gabriel.”
    “Oh, yes, I forgot.”
    Carter stood and escorted Gabriel to a small gray cubicle in the far corner of the op center. It contained a desk, a chair, an internal-line telephone, a computer, a document safe, a burn bag, and a coffee cup with the CIA emblem on the side. The girl with spiky black hair brought him a stack of files and then returned wordlessly to her pod. As Gabriel opened the first file, he looked up and saw Carter admiring the view of Rashidistan from the observation platform. He looked pleased with himself. He had a right to. The