The Defector

with the warm light of the candles. One hand was resting on the stem of a martini glass. The other was placed lightly against her teardrop chin. Her cheek, when kissed, smelled of lilac.
    “Can I get you one of these?” she asked, tapping a manicured nail on the base of the glass.
    “I’d rather drink your nail polish remover.”
    “Would you like that with a twist or just on the rocks?” She looked up at the hostess. “A glass of champagne, please. Something nice. He’s had a long day.”
    The hostess withdrew. Sarah smiled and raised the martini to her lips.
    “They say it’s bad to drink the night before you fly, Sarah.”
    “If I can survive one of your operations, I think I can survive a transatlantic flight with a bit of gin in my bloodstream.”
    “So it’s Europe? Is that where Carter is sending you?”
    “Adrian warned me to be on my toes around you. You’re not going to get it out of me.”
    “I think I have a right to know.”
    “Really?” She set down her glass and leaned forward over the table. “You might find this difficult to believe, Gabriel, but I don’t actually work for the Office. I am employed by the National Clandestine Service of the Central Intelligence Agency, which means Adrian Carter, not you, makes my assignments.”
    “Would you like to say that a little louder? I’m not sure the cooks and the dishwashers heard you.”
    “Weren’t you the one who told me that nearly every important professional conversation you’d ever had was conducted in public places?”
    It was true. Safe rooms were only safe if they hadn’t been bugged.
    “At least rule out a couple of places for me. I’ll sleep easier knowing that Langley, in its infinite wisdom, hasn’t decided to send you to Saudi Arabia or Moscow.”
    “You may sleep in peace because Langley has decided nothing of the sort.”
    “So it is Europe?”
    “Gabriel, really.”
    “What kind of work will you be doing?”
    She gave an exasperated sigh. “It’s related to my government’s continuing efforts to combat global terrorism.”
    “How gallant. And to think that four years ago you were putting together an exhibition called Impressionists in Winter.”
    “I hope that was meant as a compliment.”
    “It was.”
    “You obviously don’t approve of my going into the field without you.”
    “I’ve stated my concerns. But Adrian is your boss, not me. And if Adrian thinks it’s appropriate, then who am I to question his judgment?”
    “You’re Gabriel Allon, that’s who you are.”
    The waiter appeared. He gave them menus and a detailed briefing on the evening’s specials. When he was gone, Gabriel perused the entrées and, with as much detachment as he could manage, asked whether Mikhail was aware of Sarah’s travel plans. Greeted by silence, he looked up and saw Sarah staring at him, her alabaster cheeks flushed.
    “It’s a good thing you didn’t act like that when you were around Zizi and Ivan,” Gabriel said.
    “Did Mikhail tell you?”
    “Actually, the chief of the National Clandestine Service let it slip in conversation.”
    Sarah made no response.
    “So it’s true, then? You’re actually dating a member of my team?”
    “Are you jealous or angry?”
    “Why on earth would I be jealous, Sarah?”
    “I couldn’t carry a torch for you forever. I had to move on.”
    “And you couldn’t find anyone else other than someone who works for me?”
    “Funny how that worked out. I guess there was something about Mikhail that I found familiar.”
    “Dating a man who’s employed by the intelligence service of a foreign country isn’t exactly a wise career move, Sarah.”
    “Langley is having trouble retaining bright young talent. They’re willing to bend some of the old rules.”
    “Maybe I should have a quiet word with Personnel. They might have second thoughts.”
    “You wouldn’t dare, Gabriel. You also have no right to interfere in my private life.”
    Sarah’s private life, Gabriel knew, had been largely in ruins since 9:03 on the morning of September 11, 2001, when United Airlines Flight 175 crashed into the South Tower of the World Trade Center. On board the doomed aircraft was a young Harvard-trained lawyer named Ben Callahan. Ben had been able to make one call during the final moments of his life, and it had been to Sarah. Since that time, she had permitted herself to have feelings for only one other man. Unfortunately, that man had been Gabriel.
    “You should think long and