Gabriel sat on a bench on Victoria Embankment, watching the gray river moving sluggishly beneath the Blackfriars Bridge, holding a copy of the Daily Telegraph. On page thirteen, hidden behind an advertisement, was a coded field report for Shamron. The bodel appeared ten minutes later. He walked past Gabriel and headed up the steps toward the Temple Underground station. He wore a hat, which meant he was not being followed and it was safe to proceed. Gabriel followed him into the station, then down the escalator to the platform. When the train arrived, the two men entered the same crowded carriage. They were forced to stand side by side, which made the exchange-Yusef’s keys for the newspaper containing Gabriel’s field report-quite impossible to detect. Gabriel got off at Paddington Station and headed back to the listening post.
Jacqueline said, “There’s something I want to show you.” She led Yusef into the lift, and they rode up in silence. When the door opened, she took his hand and guided him into the center of the darkened gallery. She said, “Close your eyes.”
“I don’t like games like these.”
“Close your eyes.” Then she added playfully, “I promise to make it worth your while.”
He closed his eyes. Jacqueline walked across the room to the lighting control panel and placed her hand on the main dimmer switch. “Now, open them.”
She brought the lights up slowly. Yusef’s mouth fell slightly open as he surveyed the surrounding paintings. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s my favorite place in the world.”
Yusef took a few steps forward and stood before one of the paintings. “My God, is that really a Claude?”
“Yes, it is. In fact, that’s one of his first river scenes. It’s very valuable. Look at the way he depicted the sun. Claude was one of the first artists to actually use the sun as the source of light for an entire composition.”
“Claude was born in France, but he lived almost his entire life in Venice, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Actually, you are mistaken. Claude lived and worked in Rome, in a small flat on the Via Margutta near the Piazza di Spagna. He became the most sought-after landscape painter in all of Italy.”
Yusef turned away from the painting and looked at her. “You know a great deal about painting.”
“Actually, I know very little, but I work in an art gallery.”
Yusef asked, “How long have you been working here?”
“About five months.”
“About five months? What does that mean exactly? Does that mean four months or six months?”
“It means nearly five months. And why do you want to know? Why is this important to you?”
“Dominique, if this relationship is to continue, there must be complete honesty between us.”
“Relationship? I thought we were only sleeping together.”
“Maybe there can be more between us, but only if there are no lies. No secrets.”
“Complete honesty? Are you sure about that? Can there ever be complete honesty between two people? Would that be healthy? Isn’t it best to keep some things secret? Have you told me all your secrets, Yusef?”
He ignored this question.
“Tell me, Dominique,” he said. “Are you in love with another man?”
“No, I am not in love with another man.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Of course I am.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because of the way you made love to me last night.”
“You’ve made love to many women? You’re an expert in these matters?”
He pulled his lips into a modest smile.
Jacqueline said, “What is it about the way that I make love to you that has convinced you I am in love with another man?”
“You closed your eyes while I was inside you. You closed your eyes as if you didn’t want to look at me. You closed your eyes as if you were thinking about someone else.”
“And if I were to admit to you that I was in love with another man? How would you feel about this? Would it change anything between us?”
“It might make me care even more for you.”
“I like to close my eyes when I make love, Yusef. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Are you keeping any secrets from me?”
“None of any consequence.” She smiled. “Are you going to take me to dinner?”
“Actually, I had a better idea. Let’s go back to my flat. I’ll make dinner for us.”
Jacqueline felt a stab of panic. He seemed to sense her unease because he tilted his head and asked, “Is something wrong, Jacqueline?”
“No, nothing,” she said, managing a weak smile. “Dinner at your place sounds wonderful.”
Gabriel crossed the street, a nylon rucksack over his shoulder. Inside were the duplicate telephone and clock radio. He looked up toward the listening post. Karp had switched on the light, a signal meaning it was safe to proceed. They planned to do all their communication with light signals, though Gabriel carried a cell phone in case of an emergency.
He walked up the steps of Yusef’s building and removed the set of duplicate keys from his pocket. He selected the key for the front door, slipped it into the chamber, turned. It stuck. Gabriel swore softly beneath his breath. He jiggled it back and forth, tried again. This time the lock opened.
Once inside he walked across the lobby without hesitation. It was a doctrine that had been pounded into him by Shamron during the Black September operation: hit hard and fast, don’t worry about making a bit of noise, get away quickly. After his first job, the assassination of the Black September chief in Rome, Gabriel was flying to Geneva within an hour of the killing. He hoped this operation would go as smoothly.
He mounted the stairs and climbed quickly toward the second floor. Descending toward him were a group of young Indians: two boys, a pretty girl. As they passed him on the first-floor landing, Gabriel turned his face and pretended to be working the zipper on the rucksack. As the Indians continued down the stairs, he risked a glance over his shoulder. None of them looked back. He waited on the second-floor landing a moment and listened as they crossed the lobby and headed out the front entrance. Then he walked to Yusef’s flat: number 27.
This time the keys worked perfectly on the first try, and within seconds Gabriel was inside the flat. He closed the door and left the lights off. He reached into the rucksack and removed a small flashlight. He switched it on and quickly played the beam around the floor next to the door, looking for a telltale-a scrap of paper or any other innocent-looking small object that would alert Yusef that the flat had been entered. He saw nothing.
He turned and shone the light quickly around the room. He resisted the impulse to search Yusef’s flat. He had watched him from a distance for several days, developed a natural curiosity about the man. Was he neat and orderly, or a slob? What kind of food did he eat? Did he have debts? Did he use drugs? Did he wear strange underwear? Gabriel wanted to search his drawers and read his private papers. He wanted to look at his clothing and his bathroom. He wanted to see anything that might complete the picture-any clue that might help him better understand how Yusef fit into Tariq’s organization. But now was not the time for that kind of search. Too risky, the odds of detection too great.
The beam of the flashlight settled on Yusef’s telephone. Gabriel crossed the room, knelt beside it. He removed the duplicate from the rucksack and quickly compared it with the original. Perfect match. Jacqueline had done her job well. He pulled the wire from Yusef’s phone and exchanged it for the duplicate. The cord connecting the handset to the base on Yusef’s telephone was worn and stretched, the cord on the duplicate brand-new, so Gabriel quickly switched the cords.
He glanced out the window toward the listening post. Karp’s signal light was still burning. It was safe to continue. He shoved Yusef’s phone into the rucksack as he moved from the sitting room into the bedroom.
As he passed the bed, he had a disturbing image of Jacqueline’s naked body writhing in rumpled sheets. He wondered whether his curiosity about Yusef was purely professional. Had it become personal as well? Did he now consider the Palestinian something of a rival?
