his belongings. Now he knew where to find the elusive Rajpal Patel, assuming Assad hadn’t beaten him to it.
“A grocery list?” the Minister said. “Are you sure that’s all it was?”
“Unless you know some other coded meaning for bananas, bread, and coffee.”
The Minister seemed on the verge of questioning him further when Sharaf’s cell phone bounded to the rescue, ringing loudly. Sharaf snatched it up so quickly that his head spun again. He paused to let things drop back into place before answering.
“Sharaf.”
“You’re up!”
It was Ali. Unfortunately the Minister didn’t seem inclined to leave the room anytime soon. Sharaf would have to guard his words, not an easy task in his current state of mind.
“Yes. I am sitting here with the Minister.”
“I see. But my news can’t wait. I’m afraid something has happened to Keller.”
“What, exactly?” Sharaf glanced at the Minister. He pointed at the phone and mouthed the name, “Ali al- Futtaim,” then smiled quickly, as if to say everything was just fine. The Minister nodded, but didn’t budge.
“Are you at liberty to talk about this now, Sharaf?”
“Maybe you’d better come and get me. I am at the Minister’s house.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Excellent.”
He hung up, wondering what could have happened. Ali hadn’t sounded happy.
“Surely you’re not leaving?” the Minister said. “Not in your condition. It is imperative that my doctor must approve. He can be here in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be gone in twenty.” Sharaf reached for his clothes. He wasn’t going to change back into uniform, not for the work he had in mind, but he would take it with him. “Have him phone me. You’ve got my number.”
“Look at you, you’re unsteady. It’s too soon. Lie back down.”
The Minister held out his hands, as if to insist, but he didn’t touch Sharaf.
“Really, sir. I’m fine.”
“Then in that case I suppose you’re strong enough for new marching orders.”
“New?”
“‘Amended’ is probably a better word. Things have changed.”
“Changed how? I thought you had backing from the palace?”
“I do.” The Minister seemed mildly affronted that Sharaf had even questioned his clout. “But certain, well,
“What sort of pressures?”
“I want you to hold off on things for a while. At least until the whereabouts of this Keller fellow are established. You look awful, you know. Let me get you a glass of water.”
The water helped. So did a wedge of bread smothered with honey. Maybe all Sharaf needed was food. Whatever the case, he was steadier by the time Ali’s black Mercedes pulled up the curving stone drive, weaving among four liveried servants who were at work on the Minister’s lawn.
“I still say you should wait here for my doctor.”
“Look at it this way, Minister. The sooner I’m back at work, the sooner we’ll find out something about the missing American, so that I can resume my investigation. And I thank you. You have been most generous and compassionate.”
“It was the least I could offer, since you are working at my behest.”
“I’m grateful you still see it that way. And as long as that’s the case, could I ask one additional small favor?”
The Minister didn’t look thrilled, but he didn’t say no.
“There was an Emirati in my cell, a fellow named Nabil. He and his cousin Khalifa were jailed unjustly. Lieutenant Assad’s doing, I suspect, so perhaps you could intervene on their behalf. Also, if you can quietly ensure that someone seizes the cellblock video surveillance recordings from last night, then I’m certain you and the rest of the royal cabinet will find the contents quite revealing. Let’s just say that the prison is not being run in a manner worthy of Sheikh Mohammed. And with a few nimble moves you, not the ministers of justice or of interior, will be able to claim the privilege of being the one who set things aright.”
This prospect seemed to brighten the Minister’s mood, enough so that Sharaf was able to depart with his reluctant blessing.
Sharaf settled with gratitude into the leather upholstery of Ali’s Mercedes. By the time they were pulling onto the street he was feeling almost normal, and for the first time in days he allowed himself a fleeting moment of optimism. Time was tight, but perhaps his enemies were growing rushed, careless. He might yet have a chance.
Then Ali told him what had happened to Keller, making Sharaf wished he had simply stayed in bed.
