The Secret Servant

being organized from within the al-Hijrah Mosque in west Amsterdam?”
    “Obviously someone needs to put those very questions to him—and sooner rather than later. He lied to me or didn’t tell me the whole story. Either way, he was being deceptive. He’s hiding something, Adrian.”
    They came to the intersection of two pathways. Carter guided Gabriel to the left, and together they set out through a stand of leafless trees. Carter dug a pipe and a pouch of tobacco from the pocket of his overcoat and slowly loaded the bowl. “They don’t let us smoke in the building anymore,” he said, pausing to ignite the tobacco with an elegant silver lighter.
    “I wish we’d pass a similar rule.”
    “Can you imagine Shamron without his Turkish cigarettes?” Carter started walking again, trailing a plume of maple-scented smoke behind him like a steam engine. “I suppose we have two options. Option one, we pass along your information about Fawaz to the Dutch police and allow them to bring him in for questioning, with the FBI in close attendance, of course.”
    “Option number two?”
    “We pick him up for an off-the-record chat, in a place where the usual rules of interrogation don’t apply.”
    “You know which option I would vote for.”
    “I’m glad you feel that way,” Carter said. “I think you should go to Amsterdam and personally supervise the operation.”
    “Me?” Gabriel shook his head. “I’m afraid my role in this affair is officially over. Besides, it’s not as if the CIA doesn’t have experience in these kinds of operations.”
    “We do indeed,” Carter said. “But, unfortunately, we’ve screwed up quite a few of them—under my watch, I’m ashamed to say. The Europeans are no longer willing to turn a blind eye to our extralegal activities on their soil, and our own covert operatives are so afraid of prosecution at home and abroad that they no longer undertake sensitive missions without first consulting a lawyer. Our intrepid director has his finger firmly in the air and has detected that, for the moment, the wind is no longer at our backs. The days when we roamed Europe and the Middle East, breaking laws and limbs as we saw fit, are now over. The doors of the secret prisons are now closed, and we no longer deliver our enemies into the hands of men who dream up novel uses for rubber hoses and cattle prods. We’ve put away our brass knuckles. We’re a club fit for gentlemen from Princeton and Yale again, but that’s as it should be.”
    “We like to keep our gentlemen from Princeton and Yale confined to King Saul Boulevard, where they can’t get into trouble.”
    Carter walked in silence for a moment with his eyes on the pavement. “We’ve been preparing for something like this to happen for a long time. Our brethren at the FBI have overall responsibility for hostage recovery efforts under a scenario like this. We are gathering intelligence, of course, and liaising with allied services in Europe and the Middle East. We would regard you and your team as a black element of our larger multinational effort. You would, in effect, be a subcontractor of the Agency. It’s unconventional, but, given our past association, I think we can make it work.”
    “I would need the approval of the prime minister.” Gabriel hesitated. “And, of course, Shamron would have to sign off on it.”
    “I’ll set up a secure link to Jerusalem from my office. I promise no one will listen in.”
    “I’ll call from our embassy, if you don’t mind.”
    “Suit yourself.” Carter paused and knocked his pipe against the trunk of a tree. “Did your source happen to tell you who he thinks is behind this?”
    Gabriel answered the question. Carter nodded and stuffed more tobacco into his pipe. “We know all about the Sphinx,” he said. “We think he’s the one who planned the attack on the tourists at the Pyramids three years ago that left seventeen Americans dead. We also think he’s responsible for the murder of two of our diplomats in Cairo. One of them was CIA, by the way. There’s a star for him on the wall in the main lobby. I’m afraid the Sphinx has something of a reputation when it comes to dealing with those who arrest or kill Sword personnel. Thanks to your efforts in London, you can be sure you’re at the top of his hit list. You’ll need to watch your step when you’re back in the field.”
    “I assume you’ve told the Egyptians about the video and the demands?”
    “We felt we had