“We had an interest in the exchange of information. But we didn’t set you up.”
I wasn’t dry-eyed, but I was calm.
“What was in the envelopes, Sar?”
“Don’t be angry with me, Nat, but it really doesn’t matter.”
“It bloody well matters to me, Sarah. I was banged up, bloody near murdered, and I had to shag and kill my way out. So don’t bloody tell me it doesn’t matter.”
My voice was raised but lost in the silken dark of that place. The staff at the barbecue didn’t turn or look up. I wondered if they spoke English.
Sarah looked like she was going to make a concession in the face of this emerging rage.
“I don’t know, Nat. That’s the truth, Nat. You were just meant to make the exchange. We’ll find out.”
But I wanted as much as I could get.
“Who was Toby?”
“Don’t worry about Toby. He’s a drone. They wouldn’t tell him what’s going down.”
“Why didn’t they just round me up when I got back to Jerusalem? They could have just. . . taken me out, or whatever they do.”
“They were gaslighting you, Nat.”
I sat back with a gasp of exasperation and threw an arm in the air theatrically. It was good to feel it working again.
“What the bloody hell does that mean?”
“If they’d picked you up, it would have made it look like you were important to them. As it was, you were an unstable associate who’d had a massive breakdown. The only harm that would come to you is what you did to yourself.”
“And Toby knew this?”
“No, as I say, above his pay grade. But he was told to look after you, I expect.”
I was quieter now, acknowledging that Sarah was giving all she could.
“How about you, Sar, how did you know all this?”
“We have people working with them. That’s how I found out you were in Jerusalem.”
“But how did you know I was in that hotel?”
“Our people were picking up more from Toby’s office – they knew where you were too. That’s why I was in such a rush to get you out.”
“Do they know where I am now?”
“No. You’ve just disappeared again. Like magic. Except this time it’s not their magic, it’s ours.”
“Doesn’t the hotel have CCTV?” I was struggling to find a weakness in her case.
“Oh, please, Nat. . . it’s always crashing, and guess what? It crashed just before we arrived.”
She looked at me reproachfully. I could tell she was trying to lighten the tone.
“What happens now?” I asked, defeated, Sarah’s junior again.
“We’ve got to get you home safely. The important thing is to make you safe.”
“How do we do that?”
“I don’t know yet. Friends are working on it. More in the morning. Let’s walk by the lake. It’s really lovely in the moonlight.”
Down by the lake the velvet darkness of the water absorbed rather than reflected the stars, as if heaven had been pulled to earth. A bat jinked across it like a fallen angel.
“Where’s Mr Sarapov?” I asked.
“Vienna. Then New York. You should meet him. You’d like him.”
“Any husband of yours is a friend of mine,” I said. “Do you have a cigarette, Sar?”
“Back at the house.”
We turned to go back up the lawn.
“I don’t know who I can trust any more,” I said. “But I do trust you, Sar.”
Sarah sighed. “I wish you had a choice,” she said.
From early morning, I could hear Sarah on her mobile and laptop, in snatches of Russian, Hebrew and Arabic. When I joined her, she was sitting among untouched plates of fruit, yoghurt and meats, drinking thick black coffee. I ate a little and waited for her to stop tapping.
“Well encrypted, I hope?” I said when she paused.
“Yes, but no one’s looking here,” she said. “I’m on Russian trade lines.”
She shut the laptop and looked at me. The melancholy of the night before had evaporated in the hot morning air.
“We’re going to get you out and home but we’re going to do that by arousing no suspicion.”
“Out to where?” I said through a mouthful of brioche.
“London.”
I put down the coffee pot. “Why will I be safe there?”
“We’re going to make you safe. We’re going to give you stuff to make you safe.”
“Like a Russian tank? Or a Palestinian suicide vest?”
“Shut up, Nat, and listen.”
So I did. She outlined her plan and then got on to travel arrangements.
“We have a jet. We can’t fly direct to Europe from here – too dangerous, they could pick us up on customs and immigration. We’ll take you out of Beirut. But we can’t fly direct there. So we’ll take you to Amman. That’s easy, we do it all the time. Then you fly scheduled Amman to Beirut, you’ll not get picked up on that. You have your passport?”
“And UN Blue Card, yes.”
“You won’t need either of those. We have a brand-new Russian passport for you. And visa. You’re with the Centre now. In fact, you have been for . . .” She looked at her laptop. “. . . eleven years. Congratulations. I have your old one to be safe.”
She picked it up and waved it. “So please don’t say you have a British passport again.”
“Who am I, Sar?”
“Maria. Maria Koltsov. Masha for short. You’d like her too, as it happens. We use her all the time.”
“Maria. How funny.” I thought of Esther. “But I don’t speak Russian,” I said.
“It’s fine. Nor does she. She’s from Detroit. But no one will ask.”
She looked at me in her authoritative way. “We go this afternoon. I’ll meet you in Lebanon. At Yusef Nasser’s place.”
She was going too fast and I held my arms out, palms flat.
“Whoa, Sar. You know Yusef?”
“I know who he is, yes. Sorry for the intrusion. Go to him. He’s your other friend.”
17
The anxiety only started to kick in again at Amman airport. Until then, the day had been like a business trip. Sarah had hand luggage with soaps and creams, bless her, and changes of clothes: brand names, light and
