“With you, of all people.” His smile was brief. “I must say, my art adviser didn’t seem shocked by the sight of a little blood.”
“She doesn’t faze easily, not after what Zizi al-Bakari did to her.”
“What happened, exactly?”
Gabriel decided there was no harm in telling him; it was a long time ago. “When Zizi figured out that Sarah was a CIA agent on loan to the Office, he handed her over to an al-Qaeda cell to be interrogated and executed.”
“But you were able to save her.”
“And in the process,” said Gabriel, “I prevented a Saudi-financed plot to assassinate the pope.”
“You’ve lived quite a life.”
“And yet what do I have to show for it? I don’t have a palace in the Haute-Savoie.”
“Or the second-largest superyacht in the world,” Khalid pointed out.
“Or a Leonardo.”
“It seems I don’t have a Leonardo, either.”
“Why do you need all of it?” asked Gabriel.
“It makes me happy.”
“Does it really?”
“Not all of us are as lucky as you. You are a man of extraordinary gifts. You don’t need toys to make you happy.”
“One or two would be nice.”
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything.”
“I want to see you holding your daughter in your arms again.”
“Can’t you drive any faster?” asked Khalid impatiently.
“No, I can’t.”
“Then let me drive.”
“Not without training wheels.”
Khalid gazed at the darkened countryside. “Do you think she’ll be there?”
“Yes,” said Gabriel with more certainty than he intended.
“And if she’s not?”
Gabriel was silent.
“Do you know what my uncle Abdullah told me? He said a daughter can be replaced, but not a king.”
The drone of the engine filled the silence. After a moment, Gabriel noticed that Khalid was working a set of prayer beads with the fingers of his left hand. “Are those al-Madani’s?”
“I left mine at the Dorchester.”
“Surely, there’s an Islamic prohibition against using the prayer beads of a man you just murdered.”
