The New Girl (Gabriel Allon #19)(33)

“Someone broke into a warehouse and stole a couple of tons of files and computer disks. Apparently, these documents represent the entire archives of Iran’s nuclear weapons program.”

“Imagine that.”

Another smile, longer than the last. “As your partner in numerous operations against the Iranian nuclear program, including one code-named Masterpiece, we would like to see those documents.”

“I’m sure you would.”

“Before you show them to the Americans.”

“How do you know we haven’t already shared them with Langley?”

“Because you haven’t had enough time to analyze a treasure trove like that. And if you’d given any of the material to the Americans, they would have given it to me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The Americans have the same concerns about your service as we do. And with good reason. After all, Rebecca spent the final months of her MI6 career stealing every American secret she could lay her hands on.”

Seymour’s expression darkened, as though a shadow had fallen across his face. “Rebecca is gone.”

“No, she isn’t, Graham. She’s working in the United Kingdom Department at Moscow Center. And you’re dead in the water because you’re not sure whether she has another agent inside MI6.”

“Which is why I need a nice, juicy secret to prove I’m still in the game.”

“Then perhaps you should go out and steal one.”

“We’re too busy tearing ourselves to pieces to commit an act of honest-to-goodness espionage. We’re totally paralyzed.”

“Just like you were after—”

“Yes,” said Seymour, cutting Gabriel off. “The parallels between then and now are striking. It took years for us to get back on our feet after Philby brought us down. I’m determined not to let that happen again.”

“And you’d like my help.”

Seymour said nothing.

“How can I be sure the Iranian documents won’t end up on Rebecca’s desk at Moscow Center?”

“They won’t,” intoned Seymour gravely.

“And if I give them to you? What do I get in return?”

“A truce in our internecine conflict and a gradual return to business as usual.”

“How about something more tangible?”

“All right,” said Seymour. “If you give me those documents, I’ll help you find KBM’s daughter before he’s forced to abdicate.”

“How did you find out?”

Seymour shrugged. “Sources and methods.”

“Do the Americans know?”

“I spoke to Morris Payne last night on another matter.” Payne was the CIA director. “He knows Khalid’s daughter has been kidnapped, but he seems unaware of your involvement.” Seymour added suddenly, “He’s in town, you know.”

“Morris?”

“Khalid. He flew into London yesterday afternoon.” Seymour regarded Gabriel carefully. “I’m surprised, given the closeness of your newfound relationship, he didn’t tell you he was coming.”

“He didn’t mention it.”

“And you’re not tracking that mobile phone of his?”

“It went dark. We assume he got a new one.”

“GCHQ concur.”

“What brought him to town?”

“He had dinner last night with his beloved uncle Abdullah. He’s the current king’s younger brother.”

“Half brother,” said Gabriel. “There’s a big difference.”

“Which is why Abdullah spends most of his time here in London. In fact, we’re practically neighbors. Abdullah initially opposed Khalid’s rise, but he fell in line after Khalid threatened to bankrupt him and put him under house arrest. He’s now one of KBM’s closest advisers.” Seymour frowned. “One can only imagine the sort of things they talk about. Despite his fancy London address, Abdullah isn’t terribly fond of the West.”

“Or Israel,” added Gabriel.

“Quite. But he’s an influential figure inside the House of Saud, and Khalid needs his support.”

“Is he an MI6 asset?”

“Abdullah? Wherever would you get an idea like that?” Seymour sat down. “I’m afraid you’ve got yourself mixed up in a real game of thrones. If you had any sense, you’d walk away and let the Al Saud fight it out amongst themselves.”

“The Middle East is too dangerous a place to allow instability in Saudi Arabia.”

“We agree. Which is why we’ve been willing to overlook KBM’s obvious shortcomings, including his murder of Omar Nawwaf.”

“Why did he do it?”

“One hears rumors,” said Seymour vaguely.

“What sort of rumors?”

“That Nawwaf knew something he wasn’t supposed to.”

“Like what?”

“Why don’t you ask your friend? He’s staying at the Dorchester under an assumed name.” Seymour shook his head reproachfully. “I must say, if my child had been kidnapped, the last place I’d be is a luxury suite at the Dorchester Hotel. I’d be looking for the people who took her.”