The Secret Servant

building. Al-Zayyat drew his mobile phone from his pocket and dialed a number inside the Scorpion.
    “We hit a dry well,” he told the man who answered.
    “Shall we have another go at Mandali?”
    “No, he’s dry, too.”
    “What do you want us to do with him?”
    “We never had him,” al-Zayyat said. “We’ve never heard of him. He’s nothing. He’s no one.”

33
     
    C OPENHAGEN : 10:24 P.M. , T UESDAY
     
    G abriel sat before the recorder, slipped on a pair of headphones, and pressed PLAY .
    “I was afraid you were never going to call tonight. Do you know what time it is?”
    “I’ve been busy. You’ve seen the news?”
    “The bombings? It’s all anyone’s talking about.”
    “What are they saying?”
    “The Danes are shocked, of course. They’re wondering when it’s going to happen in Copenhagen. Here in Nørrebro, they say Europe is getting what it deserves for supporting the Americans. They want the Americans to release the sheikh.”
    “Be careful what you say on the telephone, Hanifah. You never know who’s listening.”
    “Who would bother to listen to me? I’m no one.”
    “You’re married to a man who works for the Islamic Affairs Council of Denmark.”
    “A man who thinks nothing of leaving his wife and child to roam the Middle East conducting research on the state of the Islamic world. Where are you tonight anyway?”
    “Istanbul. How’s Ahmed?”
    Gabriel pressed STOP, then REWIND, then PLAY.
    “Where are you tonight anyway?”
    “Istanbul. How’s Ahmed?”
    “He misses his father.”
    “I want to talk to him.”
    “It’s too late, Ishaq. He’s been asleep for almost an hour.”
    “Wake him.”
    “No.”
    “It’s important I speak to him tonight.”
    “Then you should have called earlier. Where are you, Ishaq? What’s that noise in the background?”
    “It’s just traffic outside my hotel room.”
    “It sounds like you’re on a highway.”
    “It’s loud here in Istanbul. It’s not like Copenhagen. Did you speak to my father today?”
    STOP. REWIND. PLAY.
    “Where are you, Ishaq? What’s that noise in the background?”
    “It’s just traffic outside my hotel room.”
    “It sounds like you’re on a highway.”
    “It’s loud here in Istanbul. It’s not like Copenhagen. Did you speak to my father today?”
    “This afternoon.”
    “He’s well?”
    “He seemed so.”
    “How’s the weather in Copenhagen?”
    “Cold, Ishaq. What do you think?”
    “Any strangers around the apartment? Any unfamiliar faces in the streets?”
    “A few more police than usual, but it’s calm here.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “I’m sure. Why are you so nervous?”
    “Because the Muslim communities across Europe are under siege at the moment. Because we are being rounded up and brought in for questioning simply because we happen to speak Arabic or pray toward Mecca.”
    “No one’s being rounded up in Copenhagen.”
    “Not yet.”
    “When does this conference of yours end, Ishaq? When are you coming home?”
    “Actually, you’re coming here. Not Istanbul. Some place better.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Go to the bottom drawer of my dresser. I left an envelope for you there.”
    “I don’t feel like playing games, Ishaq. I’m tired.”
    “Just do as I tell you, Hanifah. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.”
    Hanifah gave an exasperated sigh and slammed the receiver down next to the telephone so hard that the sound caused Gabriel’s eardrums to vibrate like a snare drum. The next sounds he heard were distant: the patter of slippered feet, a drawer being yanked open, the rustle of crisp paper. Then, a few seconds later, Hanifah’s startled voice.
    “Where did you get this money?”
    “Never mind where I got it. Do you have the tickets?”
    “Beirut? Why are we going to Beirut?”
    “For a holiday.”
    “The plane leaves Friday morning. How am I supposed to be ready that soon?”
    “Just throw a few things in a bag. I’ll have someone from the Council take you to the airport. A colleague of mine from Beirut will meet you at the airport and take you and Ahmed to an apartment that we’ve been given use of. I’ll come from Istanbul in a couple of days.”
    “This is crazy, Ishaq. Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
    “Just do as I say, Hanifah. I have to go now.”
    “When am I going to hear from you again?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “What do you mean you’re not sure? You tell me to get on a plane to Beirut and that’s