The Rembrandt Affair

file will be used against me.”
    “If that were the case, Ms. Reed, we would have used it to prevent you from going to print with the Empire Aerospace scandal. But that’s not the way it works in the real world, only in bad television dramas. The Security Service exists to protect the British people, not oppress them. We aren’t bloody Russians, for God’s sake. And you have my word that the material you refer to will be destroyed the moment you leave here.”
    She hesitated. “And if I stay?”
    “You will be told an extremely compelling story by a very interesting man.” Seymour leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, fingers intertwined. “You have a reputation as a consummate professional, Ms. Reed. I’m counting on that reputation to help us get past any uncomfortable feelings this conversation might have provoked. Everything you think you know about Martin Landesmann is a lie. This is a chance for you to bring down a corrupt and dangerous businessman from the inside. It’s also an opportunity for you to help make us all a bit safer.”
    In the upstairs study, Nigel Whitcombe and Gabriel stared at the screens, awaiting her reply. Whitcombe would later say he felt they were doomed. But not Gabriel. He saw in Zoe a kindred spirit, a woman cursed with an exaggerated sense of right and wrong. Whatever she had once felt for Saint Martin was now dissolving under the weight of Seymour’s words. Gabriel could see it in the expression on her telegenic face. And he could hear it in the decisive tone of her voice when she looked Graham Seymour directly in the eyes and asked, “And this very interesting man? Who is he?”
    “He’s connected to a foreign intelligence service. The fact that he is willing to meet with someone in your profession is evidence of how seriously we all take this matter. I should point out in advance that it is quite possible you may recognize him. But under no circumstances are you ever to write about him or the things that he’s about to tell you. And I should add that there’s no point to asking him any questions about himself. He won’t answer them. Ever.”
    “You still haven’t told me what it is you want me to do.”
    “I’ll leave that to him. Shall I bring him in, Ms. Reed? Or shall I take you home?”

48
    HIGHGATE, LONDON
    G abriel slipped silently into the room. At first, Zoe seemed unaware of his presence. Then her head turned slowly, and she studied him for a moment with an obvious curiosity, one half of her face illuminated by lamplight, the other concealed by shadow. Her pose was so motionless that for an instant Gabriel imagined he was gazing upon a portrait. Then she rose to her feet and extended a hand. “I’m Zoe,” she said. “Who are you?”
    Gabriel shot a glance at Graham Seymour before accepting the outstretched hand. “I’m a friend, Zoe. I’m also a great admirer of your work.”
    “And you’re evading my question.”
    Seymour was about to intervene, but Gabriel stilled him with a small shake of his head. “I’m afraid that evading questions is an affliction common to men like Graham and me. We demand truthfulness in others while concealing ourselves behind a cloak of lies.”
    “Is it your intention to lie to me tonight?”
    “No, Zoe. If you are prepared to listen to what I have to say, then you will be told only the truth.”
    “I’ll listen. But no commitments beyond that.”
    “Do you have a problem with commitment, Zoe?”
    “No,” she said, holding his gaze. “Do you?”
    “Actually, some people tell me I’m too committed.”
    “Committed to what?”
    “I care about some of the same things you do, Zoe. I don’t like powerful men who prey on the weak. I don’t like men who take things that don’t belong to them. And I certainly don’t like men who do business with regimes that speak openly about wiping my country from the face of the earth.”
    She looked at Seymour, then at Gabriel again.
    “You’re obviously referring to Iran.”
    “I am.”
    “Which means you’re Israeli.”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “And the other country involved in this operation?”
    “That would be the United States of America.”
    “Lovely.” She sat down again and scrutinized him for a moment without speaking.
    “Is there something you wish to ask me, Zoe?”
    “Your name.”
    “I suspect you already know it.”
    She hesitated, her dark eyes flickering over his face, then said, “You’re Gabriel Allon, the one