The New Girl (Gabriel Allon #19)(38)
“Well?” asked Sarah.
“How could you let him buy this thing?”
“Is it a Leonardo?”
“Maybe a small portion of it, a long time ago. But it isn’t a Leonardo anymore.”
Khalid joined them. “Magnificent, is it not?”
“I don’t know what was dumber,” answered Gabriel. “Killing Omar Nawwaf or wasting a half billion dollars on an overrestored workshop devotional piece.”
“Workshop? Miss Bancroft assured me it was an authentic Leonardo.”
“Miss Bancroft studied art history at the Courtauld and Harvard. I’m confident she did no such thing.” Gabriel watched despairingly as one of the servants entered the hall bearing a tray of drinks. “This isn’t a party, Khalid.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have refreshment after our journey.”
“How many staff are there?”
“Twenty-two, I believe.”
“How do you possibly manage?”
The irony bounced harmlessly off Khalid. “The senior staff are Saudis,” he explained, “but most of my employees are French.”
“Most?”
“The gardeners are Moroccans and West Africans.” His tone was derogatory. “The Saudis live in a separate house at the northern end of the property. The others live in Annecy or nearby villages.”
“Give them all the night off. The drivers, too.”
“But—”
“And switch off the security cameras,” interjected Gabriel. “The way you did in Istanbul.”
“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 chateau 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 Macon, 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 a bloop. 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.”
Sarah pointed toward a single car, a Mercedes S-Class sedan, moving across the landscape. It passed through the intersection where Khalid’s child had been taken—click-click, click-click, click-click—and disappeared from view. Gabriel allowed thirty seconds to elapse and then started the Range Rover’s engine.