The Rembrandt Affair

'At the time, I was intrigued. And remember, I was after an interview.'

'And Martin?'

She gave a faint smile. 'As the evening wore on, he became quite flirtatious—in an understated, subliminal Martin sort of way,' she added. 'He finally asked whether I would have dinner with him in the privacy of his suite. He said it would give us a chance to get to know each other better. When I told him that I didn't think it was appropriate, he seemed quite shocked. Martin isn't used to people telling him no.'

'And the interview?'

'I thought I'd lost any chance of getting it. But the opposite turned out to be true. Scott Fitzgerald was right about the rich, Mr. Allon. They are different from you and me. They want everything. And if they can't have something, they want it more.'

'And Martin wanted you?'

'So it seemed.'

'How did he pursue you?'

'Quietly and persistently. He would call every couple of days, just to chat and swap insights. British politics. Bank of England monetary policy. The budget deficit in America.' She paused, then added, 'Very sexy stuff.'

'Nothing personal?'

'Not then,' she said. 'After about a month, he finally called me late one night and said a single word: Yes. I got on the next plane to Geneva and spent three days inside Martin's bubble. Even for a jaded reporter like me, it was an intoxicating experience. When the piece ran, it was an earthquake. It was required reading for businessmen and politicians around the world. And it cemented my reputation as one of the top financial journalists in the world.'

'Did Martin like it?'

'At the time, I didn't have a clue.'

'No phone calls?'

'Radio silence.' She paused. 'I confess I was disappointed when I didn't hear from him. I was curious to know what he thought of the article. Finally, two weeks after publication, he called again.'

'What did he want?'

'He said he wanted to celebrate the fact that he was the first businessman to survive the slashing pen of Zoe Reed. He invited me to dinner. He even suggested I bring a date.'

'You accepted?'

'Instantly. But I didn't bring a date. Martin and I had dinner here in London at L'Autre Pied. Afterward, I let him take me back to his hotel. And then...' Her voice trailed off. 'Then I let him take me to bed.'

'No qualms about journalistic ethics? No guilt about sleeping with a married man?'

'Of course I had qualms. In fact, I swore to myself it would never happen again.'

'But it did.'

'The very next afternoon.'

'You began seeing him regularly after that?'

She nodded.

'Where?'

'Anywhere but London. My face is far too recognizable here. We always met somewhere on the Continent, usually in Paris, sometimes in Geneva, and occasionally at his chalet in Gstaad.'

'How do you communicate?'

'The normal way, Mr. Allon. Martin's communications are very secure.'

'For good reason,' Gabriel said. 'Any plans to see him in the future?'

'After what you've just told me?' Zoe laughed. 'Actually, I'm supposed to see him in Paris four days from now. A week after that, I'm scheduled to go to Geneva. That's actually a work trip—Martin's annual Christmas gala at Villa Elma. Each year three hundred very rich, very lucky people are allowed to spend a few hours inside Martin's inner sanctum. The price of admission is a hundred-thousand-euro contribution to his One World foundation. Even then, he has to turn away hundreds of people each year. I go for free, of course. Martin enjoys bringing me to Villa Elma.' She paused, then added, 'I'm not sure Monique feels the same way.'

'She knows about you?'

'I've always thought she must suspect something. Martin and Monique pretend to have the perfect relationship, but in reality their marriage is a sham. They reside under the same roof but for the most part lead completely separate lives.'

'Has he ever discussed the possibility of leaving her for you?'

'Surely you're not as old-fashioned as that, Mr. Allon.' She frowned. 'Being around Martin Landesmann is very exciting. Martin makes me happy. And when it's over...'

'He'll go back to his life, and you'll go back to yours?'

'Isn't that the way it always works?'

'I suppose,' said Gabriel. 'But it might not be so easy for you.'

'Why would you say that?'

'Because you're in love with him.'

Zoe's cheeks turned vermilion. 'Is it that obvious?' she asked quietly.

'I'm afraid so.'

'And you still want to use me?'

'Use you? No, Zoe, I have no intention of using you. But I would be honored if you would agree to join our endeavor as a full partner. I promise it will be the experience of a lifetime. And you'll see things no other British reporter has seen before.'

'Perhaps now might be a good time to tell me exactly what it is you want me to do, Mr. Allon.'

'I need you to see Martin Landesmann at his apartment in Paris one more time. And I need you to do me a favor while you're there.'

IT WAS a few minutes after midnight when the Jaguar limousine bearing Zoe Reed and Graham Seymour eased away from the curb outside the Highgate safe house. Gabriel departed five minutes later, accompanied by Nigel Whitcombe. They headed south through the quiet streets of London, Whitcombe chattering with edgy excitement, Gabriel emitting little more than the occasional murmur of agreement. He climbed out of the car at Marble Arch and made his way on foot to an Office safe flat overlooking Hyde Park on Bayswater Road. Ari Shamron was waiting anxiously at the dining-room table, wreathed in a fog of cigarette smoke.

'Well?' he asked.

'We have our agent in place.'

'How long do we have to get her ready?'

'Three days.'

Shamron smiled. 'Then I suggest you get busy.'

49 HIGHGATE, LONDON

It was an alarmingly short period of time, even for an intelligence service used to working under the pressure of a ticking clock. They would have just three days to turn a British investigative reporter into a professional spy. Three days to prepare her. Three days to train her in the basics of tradecraft. And three days to teach her how to perform a pair of critical procedures—one involving Martin Landesmann's secure mobile phone, a Nokia N900, the other involving his Sony VAIO Z Series notebook computer.

Their task was made even more difficult by Gabriel's decision to leave Zoe's work schedule unchanged, a step he took to avoid any disruption in her daily routine. It meant the team would have her for only a few hours each evening, and only after she had already put in an exhausting day at the office. Graham Seymour quietly voiced doubts as to whether she would be ready, as did the Americans, who were now following the affair closely. But Gabriel held firm. Zoe had a date with Martin in Paris in three days. Break that date, and Martin might become suspicious. Send her into Martin's bed too many times with her head filled with secrets, and she might end up like