line of clouds was coming over the dunes, and a sudden wind was chasing in the marsh grass. “Looks like a big storm,” said Jean-Michel, and he ordered a third bottle of rose to help ride it out. Nadia lit a Virginia Slims, then gave the pack to Monique, who did the same. Sarah turned to watch the approaching storm. All the while she was thinking of the clock and wondering how many minutes she should let pass before she went to the bathroom. And what she might find when she went there.
Five minutes later the clouds opened, and a gust of wind hurled rain against Sarah’s back. Jean-Michel signaled the waitress and asked her to lower the awning. Sarah stood, seized her beach bag, and started toward the back of the restaurant.
“Where are you going?” asked Jean-Michel.
“We’re working on our third bottle of wine. Where do you think I’m going?”
He stood suddenly and followed after her.
“This is very thoughtful of you, but I really don’t need your help. I’ve been doing this sort of thing alone since I was a little girl.”
He took her by the arm and led her to the restroom. The door was ajar. He pushed it all the way open, looked quickly around, then stepped aside and allowed her to enter. Sarah closed the door and bolted it, then dropped the toilet seat, loudly enough so that it could be heard beyond the door.
She looked beneath the sink, saw an aluminum canister, and put her foot on the pedal. When the lid rose she saw the box, partially concealed by crumpled paper towels. She reached down and plucked it out.
Sarah looked in her beach bag and saw she had a book of matches. She started to take them out but decided she didn’t have the nerve for it, so she tore the message to bits and flushed them down the toilet. She stood before the mirror a moment and examined her face while she ran water into the basin.
She shut off the taps and returned to the veranda. Rainwater was now spilling over the gutters in torrents. Yossi was in the process of noisily sending back a bottle of Sancerre; Rimona was examining the menu as though she found it of little interest. And Jean-Michel was watching her coming across the room as though seeing her for the first time. She sat down and watched the storm rolling across the marsh, knowing it would soon be over.
ALL THEY NEEDED now was the guest of honor. For much of that day they did not see him. Gabriel grew concerned that bin Shafiq had somehow managed to slip away undetected and briefly considered placing a phone call to the villa to make certain it was still occupied. But at 11:30 they saw him emerge onto the terrace, where, after his customary vigorous swim, he sunned himself for an hour.
At 12:30 he went inside again, and a few minutes later the white Cabriolet came rolling down the drive with the top down and the woman behind the wheel. She drove to a charcuterie in Lorient village, spent ten minutes inside, then returned to the villa on Pointe Milou for an alfresco lunch.
At three o’clock, as the storm was breaking over the coast, the Cabriolet again came down the drive, but this time it was bin Shafiq behind the wheel. Lavon set off after him on one of the newly acquired scooters, with Mordecai and Oded following in support. It quickly became apparent the Saudi was checking for surveillance, because he forsook the crowded roads along the northern coast of the island and headed instead toward the sparsely developed eastern shore. He sped along the rocky coastline of Toiny, then turned inland and raced through a string of scruffy hamlets in the grassy hills of the Grand Fond. He paused for a few seconds at the turnoff for Lorient, long enough so that Mordecai had to come around him. Two minutes later, at the intersection of the road to Saint-Jean, he engaged in the same time-tested routine. This time it was Oded who had to abandon the chase.
Lavon was convinced that bin Shafiq’s ultimate destination was Gustavia. He hurried into town by a different route and was waiting near the Carl Gustav Hotel when the Cabriolet came down the hill from Lurin. The Saudi parked along the edge of the harbor. Ten minutes later, after making another careful check of his tail, this one on foot, he joined Wazir bin Talal at a quayside cafe. Lavon had sushi at a restaurant up the street and waited them out. An hour later he was back at the villa, telling Gabriel they had a problem.
“WHY IS he meeting with bin Talal? Bin Talal is security-
“But what?”
“Zizi’s boys are professionals, too. And so is bin Shafiq. He was driving this afternoon like a man who knew he was being followed.”
“It’s standard procedure,” said Gabriel, playing devil’s advocate without much enthusiasm.
“You can always tell the difference between someone who’s going through the motions and someone who’s thinks he’s got a watcher on his tail. It feels to me like bin Shafiq knows he’s being watched.”
“So what are you suggesting, Eli? Call it off?”
“No,” Lavon said. “But if we can only get one target tonight, make sure it’s Sarah.”
TEN MINUTES LATER. The green light. The burst of dial tone. The sound of a number being dialed.
GABRIEL WALKED over to the map.
“ La Terrazza is here,” he said, tapping his finger against the hills above Saint-Jean. “They won’t have to leave the villa until nine at the earliest.”
“Unless they go somewhere first,” said Lavon.
“Zizi’s dinner begins at eight. That gives us almost an hour before we would have to move Sarah into place for the extraction.”
“Unless Zizi arrives late,” said Lavon.
Gabriel walked over to the window and looked across the inlet. The weather had broken, and it was now dusk. The sea was beginning to grow dark, and lights were coming on in the hills.
“We’ll kill them at the villa-inside the house or behind the walls in the drive.”
