“I’m not sure I know how.”
“Flip the little switch from on to off. That should do the trick.”
Khalid had instructed Rafiq al-Madani to come to the château alone. Al-Madani, however, had promptly disobeyed his future king by requesting a car and driver from the embassy motor pool. They left the eighth arrondissement of Paris at six p.m. and, followed by a team of Office watchers, headed for the A6. Based on their conversation, which Gabriel and Khalid monitored via the compromised phone, it was clear the two men were well acquainted. It was also clear that both were armed.
When they reached the town of Mâcon, Gabriel commandeered one of Khalid’s Range Rovers and drove with Sarah into the countryside. The night was cold and clear. He parked on a rise overlooking the intersection of the D14 and the D38, doused the headlamps, and switched off the engine.
“What do we do if a gendarme happens upon us?”
“Office doctrine dictates we pretend to be lovers.”
Sarah smiled. “My wildest dream come true.”
Gabriel’s BlackBerry lay on the console between them. It was emitting the audio feed from al-Madani’s phone. At present, it was limited to the drone of a German-made engine and a rhythmic rattling that sounded like the clicking of chess pieces.
“What is that?”
“Prayer beads.”
“He sounds worried.”
“Wouldn’t you be if Khalid sent for you in the middle of the night?”
“He did it all the time.”
“And you never suspected he wasn’t the great reformer he was made out to be?”
“The Khalid I knew wouldn’t have countenanced the murder of Omar Nawwaf. I suppose having all that power changed him. It was thrust upon him too quickly, and it brought out the hamartia in his character. The fatal flaw,” added Sarah.
“I know what it means, Dr. Bancroft. Thanks to the Office, I never finished my formal education, but I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
“If I’m so smart, why am I sitting by the side of a French road in the middle of the night?”
“Trying to prevent our tragic hero from destroying himself.”
“Maybe I should let it happen.”
“You’re a restorer, Gabriel. You fix things.” From the BlackBerry came the clicking of the prayer beads. “Khalid always told me something like this would happen. He knew they would try to destroy him. He said it would be someone close to him. Someone from inside his family.”
“It’s not a family, it’s a business. And the spoils go to those in power.”
“Is that what this is about? Money?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
Al-Madani’s phone pinged with an incoming text message. The clicking of the beads fell silent.
“Who do you suppose it’s from?”
A moment later Gabriel’s phone vibrated. The message was from the operations desk at Unit 8200. “It was Khalid. He was wondering when Rafiq might arrive.”
They listened to al-Madani type out a response and send it to Khalid with abloop. Then al-Madani typed and transmitted a second message. A transcript arrived on Gabriel’s phone a few seconds later, along with the number to which it had been sent.
“He just told the kidnappers he’s about to meet with Khalid. He promised to send an update as soon as it’s over.”
“There he is.”
