The Messenger

what about Arab boys?”
    “What about them?”
    “Were you ever friends with any of them?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Ever date any of them? Ever sleep with any of them?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I guess my taste didn’t run to Arab men.”
    “You had French boyfriends?”
    “A couple.”
    “British?”
    “Sure.”
    “But no Arabs?”
    “No Arabs.”
    “Are you prejudiced against Arabs?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “So it’s conceivable you could have dated an Arab. You just didn’t. ”
    “I hope you’re not going to ask me to serve as bait in a honey trap because—”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Then why are you asking me these questions?”
    “Because I want to know whether you’d be comfortable in a social and professional setting with Arab men.”
    “The answer is yes.”
    “You don’t automatically see a terrorist when you see an Arab man?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure about that, Sarah?”
    “I suppose it depends on the sort of Arab you have in mind.”
    He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m sure poor Sarah is famished.” He drew a heavy red line across his page of hieroglyphics. “Let’s order some food, shall we? Sarah will feel better after she has something to eat.”

    T HEY ORDERED KEBABS from a carryout in the heart of Georgetown. The food came twenty minutes later, delivered by the same black Suburban that had brought Sarah to the town house three hours earlier. Gabriel treated its arrival as a signal to begin the night session. For the next ninety minutes he focused on her education and her knowledge of art history. His questions came at such a rapid-fire pace she scarcely had time for her food. As for his own, it sat untouched next to his yellow legal pad. He’s an ascetic , she thought. He can’t be bothered with food. He lives in a bare room and subsists on coarse bread and a few drops of water a day. Shortly after midnight he carried his plate into the kitchen and deposited it on the counter. When he returned to the dining room he stood for a moment behind his chair, with one hand pressed to his chin and his head tilted slightly to one side. The light from the chandelier had turned his eyes to emerald, and they were flashing restlessly over her like searchlights. He can see the summit , she thought. He’s preparing himself for the final assault .

    “I SEE FROM YOUR file that you’re unmarried.”
    “Correct.”
    “Are you involved with anyone at the moment?”
    “No.”
    “Sleeping with anyone?”
    She looked at Carter, who gazed sadly back at her, as if to say, I told you things might get personal .
    “No, I’m not sleeping with anyone.”
    “Why not?”
    “Have you ever lost someone close to you?”
    The dark look that came suddenly over his face, combined with Carter’s restless shifting in his chair, alerted her that she had strayed into some forbidden zone.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t—”
    “It’s Ben, I take it? Ben is the reason you’re not involved with anyone?”
    “Yes, it’s Ben. Of course it’s Ben. ”
    “Tell me about him.”
    She shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “You don’t get to know about Ben. Ben is mine. Ben isn’t part of the deal.”
    “How long did you date?”
    “I told you—”
    “How long did you see him, Sarah? It’s important, or I wouldn’t be asking.”
    “About nine months.”
    “And then it ended?”
    “Yes, it ended. ”
    “You ended it, didn’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Ben was in love with you. Ben wanted to marry you.”
    “Yes.”
    “But you didn’t feel the same way. You weren’t interested in marriage. Maybe you weren’t interested in Ben.”
    “I cared about him very much…”
    “But?”
    “But I wasn’t in love with him.”
    “Tell me about his death.”
    “You can’t be serious.”
    “I’m quite serious.”
    “I don’t talk about his death. I never talk about Ben’s death. Besides, you know how Ben died. He died at nine-oh-three A.M . Eastern Daylight Time, live on television. Everyone in the world watched Ben die. Did you?”
    “Some of the passengers from Flight 175 managed to make phone calls.”
    “That’s correct.”
    “Was Ben one of them?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he call his father?”
    “No.”
    “Did he call his mother?”
    “No.”
    “His brother? His sister?”
    “No.”
    “Who did he call, Sarah?”
    Her eyes welled with tears.
    “He called me , you son of a