The Messenger

rugged outcroppings of gray-brown volcanic rock. Between the rocks, and beneath a sky of intense luminous blue, lay a sweeping crescent beach. “Welcome to Saline,” Nadia said.
    Jean-Michel guided the craft carefully through the gentle breakers and came to a stop a few yards from the shoreline. Rafiq and Sharuki leaped overboard into the shallow water and made their way to the prow. Nadia stood and slipped overboard into Rafiq’s powerful arms. “It’s the best part about having bodyguards,” she said. “You never have to get wet on the way to the beach.”
    Sarah reluctantly climbed into the arms of Sharuki. A few seconds later she was deposited gently in the hard sand at the water’s edge. As Jean-Michel turned the launch around and headed back to Alexandra, Nadia stood at the tide line and looked for a suitable place to make camp. “Down there,” she said, then she took Sarah’s arm and led her toward the distant end of the beach, which was empty of other people. Rafiq and Sharuki trailed after them with the chairs and the bags. Fifty yards removed from the nearest beachgoer, Nadia stopped and murmured something in rapid Arabic to Rafiq, who responded by spreading a pair of towels on the sand and opening the chairs.
    The two bodyguards made an outpost for themselves about twenty yards away. Nadia removed her beach dress and sat on her towel. Her long dark hair was combed straight back and shimmering with gel. She wore silver-tinted sunglasses, through which it was possible to see her wide liquid eyes. She glanced over her shoulder toward the bodyguards, then removed her top. Her breasts were heavy and beautifully formed. Her skin, after two weeks in the sun, was deeply tanned. Sarah sat down in one of the chairs and buried her feet in the sand.
    “Do you like having them?” Sarah asked.
    “The bodyguards?” Nadia shrugged. “When you’re the daughter of Zizi al-Bakari, bodyguards are a fact of life. Do you know how much I’m worth to a kidnapper or a terrorist?”
    “Billions.”
    “Exactly.” She reached into her beach bag and pulled out a pack of Virginia Slims. She lit one for herself and offered one to Sarah, who shook her head. “I don’t smoke on Alexandra in deference to my father’s wishes. But when I’m away from him…” Her voice trailed off. “You won’t tell him, will you?”
    “Cross my heart.” Sarah inclined her head toward the bodyguards. “What about them?”
    “They wouldn’t dare tell my father.”
    Nadia returned the cigarettes to her bag and exhaled smoke toward the cloudless blue sky. Sarah closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun. “You wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of very cold rosé in there, would you?”
    “I wish,” Nadia said. “Jean-Michel always manages to smuggle a little wine on board. I’m sure he’d give you a bottle or two if you asked nicely.”
    “I’m afraid Jean-Michel wants to give me more than just wine.”
    “Yes, he’s very attracted to you.” Nadia pushed her sunglasses onto her forehead and closed her eyes. “There’s a restaurant just behind the dunes. We can have a drink at the bar later if you like.”
    “I didn’t realize you drank.”
    “Not much, but I do love banana daiquiris on a day like today.”
    “I thought your religion forbade it.”
    Nadia waved her hand dismissively.
    “You’re not religious?” Sarah asked.
    “I love my faith, but I’m also a modern Saudi woman. We have two faces. When we are at home, we are obligated to keep it hidden behind a black veil. But in the West…”
    “You can drink the occasional daiquiri and lie topless on the beach.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Does your father know?”
    She nodded. “He wants me to be a true woman of the West but remain faithful to the tenets of Islam. I’ve told him that’s not possible, at least not in the strictest sense, and he respects that. I’m not a child, Sarah. I’m twenty-seven years old.”
    She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “And how old are you?”
    “Thirty-one,” Sarah said.
    “Have you ever been married?”
    Sarah shook her head. Her face was still turned to the sun, and her skin felt as though it was burning. Nadia knows, she thought. They all know.
    “You’re a beautiful girl,” Nadia said. “Why aren’t you married yet?”
    Because of a telephone call I received at 8:53 the morning of September 11, 2001…
    “All the usual excuses,” she said. “First there was college, then my