Portrait of a Spy

the endless sky. They sped through groves of date, lemon, and orange trees, slowing only once to allow a leathered old shepherd to drive his goats across the road. Al-Kamal appeared to relax with each passing mile. A native of the region, he pointed out some of its more important landmarks as they flashed past his window. And in Unayzah, a starkly religious town known for the purity of its Islam, he asked Nadia to make a small detour so he could see the modest home where, as a child, he had lived with one of his father’s four wives.
    “I never knew you came from here,” Nadia said.
    “So does Sheikh Bin Tayyib,” he said, nodding. “I knew him when he was a boy. We attended the same school and prayed in the same mosque. Marwan was quite a firebrand back then. He got into trouble for throwing a rock through the window of a video shop. He thought it was un-Islamic.”
    “What about you?”
    “I didn’t mind the shop. There wasn’t much else to do in Unayzah but watch videos and go to the mosque.”
    “It’s my understanding the sheikh has moderated his views since then.”
    “The Muslims of Unayzah don’t know the meaning of the word ‘moderation,’ ” al-Kamal said. “If Marwan has changed in any way since then, it is for public consumption only. Marwan is an Islamist through and through. And he has very little use for the al-Saud, despite the fact that they pay him well. I’d watch your step around him.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “Maybe I should attend the meeting with you.”
    “I’ll be fine, Rafiq.”
    Al-Kamal fell silent as they left Unayzah and plunged once more into the desert. Directly before them, across a sea of boulders and stones, rose a barren escarpment of rock, its edges carved and scored by millions of years of wind and sand. The sheikh’s camp lay to the north of the outcropping along the edge of a deep wadi . Nadia could feel heavy stones thudding against the undercarriage of the car as they drove along a pitted unpaved track.
    “I wish you’d told me where we were going,” al-Kamal said, clutching the armrest for support. “We could have taken one of the Range Rovers.”
    “I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
    “It’s a desert camp. How did you think we were going to get there?”
    Nadia laughed in spite of herself. “I hope my father isn’t watching this.”
    “Actually, I hope he is.” Al-Kamal looked at her for a long moment without speaking. “I never left your father’s side, Nadia, even when he was discussing highly sensitive business with men like Sheikh Bin Tayyib. He trusted me with his life. Unfortunately, I couldn’t protect him that night in Cannes, but I would have gladly stepped in front of those bullets. And I would do the same for you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
    “I think I do, Rafiq.”
    “Good,” he said. “If God wills it, this meeting tonight will be a success. But next time, tell me first so I can make proper arrangements. It’s better that way. No surprises.”
    “Zizi’s rules?” she asked.
    “Zizi’s rules,” he replied, nodding his head. “Zizi’s rules are like the teachings of the Prophet, peace be upon him. Follow them carefully and God will grant you a long and happy life. Ignore them . . .” He shrugged his heavy shoulders. “That’s when bad things happen.”
    They came upon a cluster of cars parked haphazardly along the edge of the wadi : Range Rovers, Mercedes, Toyotas, and a few battered pickup trucks. Adjacent to the parking area, aglow with internal lighting, stood two large communal tents. A dozen smaller tents were scattered across the desert floor, each fitted with a generator and a satellite dish. Nadia smiled beneath the cover of her niqab . The Saudis loved to return to the desert each winter to reconnect with their Bedouin heritage, but their devotion to the old ways only went so far.
    “The sheikh is obviously doing quite well for himself.”
    “You should see his villa in Mecca,” al-Kamal said. “This is all bought and paid for by the government. As far as the al-Saud are concerned, it’s money well spent. They take care of the ulema , and the ulema takes care of them.”
    “Why this spot?” asked Nadia, looking around.
    “Long before there was such a thing as Saudi Arabia, members of the sheikh’s clan used to bring their animals here in the winter. The Bin Tayyibs have been camping here for centuries.”
    “The next thing you’re going to tell me is