“How long before we get there?”

“About an hour.”

Gabriel reclined his seat and closed his eyes.

HE WOKE as they entered a small town called The Plains. Carter slowed as he negotiated the tiny central business district; then he crossed a set of old railroad tracks, and once again headed into the countryside. The road was familiar to Gabriel, as was the long gravel drive into which Carter turned two miles later. It ran along the edge of a narrow stream. To the left was a rolling meadow, and at the top of the meadow was a large farmhouse with a tarnished copper roof and a double-decker porch. When Gabriel had last visited the house, the trees had been empty of leaves and the ground covered in snow. Now the dogwoods were in bloom, and the fields were pale green with new spring grass.

A horse came across the pasture toward them at an easy canter, ridden by a woman with golden hair. The swelling in her face had receded, and her features had returned to normal. All except for the smudges of darkness beneath her eyes, thought Gabriel. In Sarah’s eyes there were still traces of the nightmare she had endured at the chalet in Canton Uri. She guided the horse expertly alongside the car and peered down at Gabriel. A smile appeared on her face, and for an instant she looked like the same beautiful woman he had seen walking down Q Street in Washington last autumn. Then the smile faded and with two precise jabs of her boot heel she sent the horse galloping across the meadow toward the house.

“She has good days and bad days,” Carter said as he watched her go. “But I’m sure you understand that.”

“Yes, Adrian, I understand.”

“I’ve always found personal grudges counterproductive in a business like ours, but I’ll never forgive Zizi for what he did to her.”

“Neither will I,” said Gabriel. “And I do hold grudges.”

THEY HAD a quiet lunch together in the cool sunlight on the back porch. Afterward Carter saw to the dishes while Gabriel and Sarah set out for a walk through the shadowed woods. A CIA security agent tried to follow them, but Gabriel took the agent’s sidearm and sent him back to the house. Sarah wore jodhpurs and riding boots and a fleece jacket. Gabriel was still dressed in the dark-gray suit he had worn to the Senate hearing. He carried the agent’s Browning Hi-Power in his right hand.

“Adrian doesn’t seem terribly pleased by your performance before the committee.”

“He isn’t.”

“Someone had to deliver the message about our friends the Saudis. Who better than you? After all, you saved the president’s life.”

“No, Sarah, it was you who saved the president. Maybe someday the country will find out what a debt they owe you.”

“I’m not planning to go public any time soon.”

“What are your plans?”

“Adrian didn’t tell you? I’m joining the Agency. I figured the art world could survive without one more curator.”

“Which side? Operations or Intelligence?”

“Intelligence,” she said. “I’ve had enough fieldwork for a lifetime. Besides, it will never be safe for me out there. Zizi made it very clear to me what happens to people who betray him.”

“He has a long reach. What about your security here in America?”

“They’re giving me a new name and a new identity. I get to pick the name. I was wondering whether you would allow me to use your mother’s name?”

“Irene?” Gabriel smiled. “I’d be honored. She was like you-a remarkably courageous woman. The next time you come to Israel, I’ll let you read about what happened to her during the war.”

Sarah paused to finger the blossom of a dogwood, then they walked on through the trees.

“And what about you, Gabriel? What are your plans?”

“I think you and I might be moving in opposite directions.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say anything more right now.”

She pouted and playfully swatted his arm. “You’re not going to start keeping secrets from me now, are you?”

“Now that you’re working for the intelligence service of another country, I’m afraid our relationship will have to take on certain…” He paused, searching for the right word in English. “Parameters.”

“Please, Gabriel. We share a bond that extends far beyond the rules of engagement governing contact between known operatives of other services.”

“I see you’ve started your training.”

“Little by little,” she said. “It helps to relieve the boredom of living alone on this farm.”

“Are you well, Sarah?”

“The days are all right, but the nights are very hard.”

“They will be for a long time. Working for the Agency will help, though. Do you know where they’re going to put you?”

“The Saudi desk,” she said. “I insisted.”

The woods shook with the rumble of distant thunder. Sarah asked about Julian Isherwood.

“At the moment his situation is very similar to yours.”

“Where have you got him?”

“Sarah.”

“Come on, Gabriel.”

“He’s tucked away in an old house near Land’s End in Cornwall.”

“And the gallery?”

“It’s closed at the moment. Your departure from London caused quite a scandal. The boys at the bar in Green’s restaurant miss you very much.”

“I miss them, too. But I miss your team more.”

“Everyone sends their best.” Gabriel hesitated. “They also asked me to apologize to you.”

“For what?”

“We let you down, Sarah. It’s obvious that we were spotted by bin Shafiq or Zizi’s security men.”

“Maybe it was my fault.” She shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter. We all came out alive, and we got eleven of them in that house. And we foiled a plot to assassinate the president. Not bad, Gabriel.”

There was another rumble of thunder, this one closer. Sarah looked up at the sky.

“I have to ask you a few questions, Sarah. There are some things we need to know before we can close the books on the operation.”

Her gaze remained skyward. “You need to know what I told them in that house in Switzerland.”

“I know you were filled with drugs. I know you’ve probably tried to purge it from your memory.”

She looked at him and shook her head. “I haven’t tried to forget,” she said. “In fact, I remember every word.”

The first raindrops began to fall. Sarah seemed not to notice. They walked on through the trees, and she told him everything.

CARTER DROVE Gabriel to Dulles Airport and shepherded him through security. They sat together in a special diplomatic lounge and waited for the flight to be called. Carter passed the time by watching the evening news. Gabriel’s attention was focused on the man seated on the opposite side of the lounge: Prince Bashir, the Saudi ambassador to the United States.

“Don’t even think about it, Gabriel.”

“Public confrontations aren’t my style, Adrian.”

“Maybe not, but Bashir rather enjoys them.”

As if on cue the Saudi rose and walked across the lounge. He stood over Gabriel but did not extend his hand. “I hear you made quite a spectacle of yourself on Capitol Hill this morning, Mr. Allon. Jewish lies and propaganda but amusing nonetheless.”

“The testimony was supposed to be secret, Bashir.”

“Nothing happens in this town that I don’t know about. And it’s Prince Bashir.” The ambassador looked at Carter. “Were you responsible for this circus today, Adrian?”

“The senators issued the subpoena, Your Royal Highness. The Agency had nothing to do with it.”

“You should have done something to prevent it.”

“This isn’t Riyadh, Mr. Ambassador.”

Bashir glared at Carter, then returned to his seat.

“I guess I won’t be eligible for the Saudi retirement plan.”

“What?”

“Never mind,” said Carter.

Ten minutes later Gabriel’s flight was called. Carter walked him to his gate.

“Oh, I nearly forgot something. The president called while you were talking to Sarah. He wanted to say thank you. He said he’ll catch you another time.”