‘I’m glad you’re suffering as well.’
He laughed. ‘Just look at those two,’ he said, nodding at the bridal couple. ‘Drew can’t keep his hands off Annette. I know just how he feels.’
Most of the guests were dancing to the band. ‘Let’s step into the courtyard,’ said Tamara. ‘Not quite so many people.’
They went out and stood looking at the fountain. There were half a dozen other people out there, and Tamara wished they would go away.
Tab said: ‘We need more time together. We always meet and part, meet and part. I want us to be more intimate.’
‘More intimate?’ she said with a grin. ‘Is there any part of me you don’t know as well as you know your own body?’
His brown eyes looked at her in a way that always gave her a little internal twinge. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’
‘I know. I just enjoyed saying it.’
But he was serious. ‘I want a whole weekend, somewhere else, without interruptions, without people we have to pretend to.’
Tamara was beginning to find this exciting, but she did not see how it could be done. ‘You mean, like, take a vacation?’
‘Yes. It’s your birthday soon, I know.’
She did not remember telling him that. But it would have been easy for him to find out. He was a spy, after all. ‘Sunday,’ she said. ‘I’ll be thirty. I wasn’t planning to make a big fuss.’
‘I’d like to take you away, as a birthday present.’
She felt a warm flush of affection. Oh, God, I like this guy, she thought. There was a snag, though. ‘I love the idea,’ she said. ‘But where could we go? It’s not like there’s a resort where we could check into a hotel and be anonymous. Anywhere in this country other than here in the capital we’d stick out like a couple of visiting giraffes.’
‘I know a good hotel in Marrakech.’
‘Morocco? Are you serious?’
‘Why not?’
‘There are no direct flights from here. You have to go via Paris or Casablanca or both. It takes a day to get there. You can’t do it for a weekend.’
‘Suppose I could solve that problem?’
‘How else could we travel? Jet-propelled camel?’
‘My mother has a plane.’
She burst out laughing. ‘Tab! How will I ever get used to you? Your mother has a plane! My mother has never even flown first class.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘You’ll find this hard to believe, I know, but I find the thought of your family intimidating.’
‘You’re right, that’s hard to believe.’
‘My dad is a salesman – a brilliant salesman, it’s true – but he’s no intellectual. Your father is a university professor who writes history books. My mom has a talent for creating watches and handbags that rich women will pay ridiculous prices for. Your mother runs a high school, responsible for the education of hundreds of young people, maybe thousands. I know your parents don’t make any money, but in a way that’s even more impressive. They’re probably going to see me as a spoiled rich kid.’
She noted two things in that little speech. One was his humility, which she thought was pretty unusual in men of his social group. The other, more important, was the assumption that he was going to meet her parents. He had a vision of his future, and she was in it.
She did not remark on either, but said: ‘Could we really do it?’
‘I’ll have to ask if the plane is free.’
‘This is so romantic. I wish we could make love right now.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t see why not.’
‘In the fountain?’
‘Perhaps, but I don’t want to draw the spotlight away from the bride and groom. It would seem discourteous.’
‘Oh, all right, you old stick-in-the-mud. Let’s go back to your place.’
‘I’ll go first. I’ll slip out without saying goodbye. You could pay your respects to Drew and Annette and follow me a few minutes later.’
‘Okay.’
‘And that gives me a chance to make sure my apartment is reasonably clean and tidy. Unload the dishwasher, throw my socks in the laundry hamper, put out the garbage.’
‘All that, just for me?’
‘Or I could take off my clothes and lie on the bed until you arrive.’
‘I like Plan B.’
‘Oh, boy,’ he said. ‘You got it.’
*
Next morning, Tamara woke up at her apartment in the embassy compound knowing that something had changed. Her relationship with Tab had moved up a gear. He was no longer just a boyfriend. He was more than a lover. They had become a couple, an item. They were going away together. And she had not pushed him into this. It was all his idea.
She lay in bed for a few minutes just enjoying the sensation.
When she got up, she found a message on her phone:
Please get 14 bananas for your grandmother. Thank you – Haroun.
She flashed back to the half-abandoned village on the shore of the shrinking lake, and the intense, dark-skinned Arab with the New Jersey accent who had said: ‘The message will mention a number – eight kilometres, or fifteen dollars – and the number will be the time he wants to meet you, by the twenty-four-hour clock. The place for the first meeting will be Le Grand Marché.’
Tamara was excited, but she told herself not to expect too much. Abdul had not known a lot about Haroun. The man might have access to secrets, but he might not. It was possible he was a shyster who would hit her up for money. She should not get her hopes up.
She showered and dressed and ate a bowl of bran flakes. She put on the scarf Abdul had given her for identification, blue with a distinctive pattern of orange circles. Then she went out into the mild air of the desert morning. It was her favourite time of day in Chad, before the air became dusty and the heat oppressive.
She found Dexter at his desk drinking coffee. Today he was wearing a blue-and-white-striped seersucker suit. In this country of vivid Arab robes and chic French fashion, he was dressed in an American sartorial cliché. On the wall was a photograph of him with a college baseball team, proudly holding up a trophy.
‘I have a meeting with an informant this afternoon,’ she said. ‘Le Grand Marché at two p.m.’
‘Who is it?’
‘A disillusioned terrorist, according to Abdul. He’s calling himself Haroun and he lives across the river in Kousséri.’
‘Reliable?’
‘Nobody knows.’ It was important to manage Dexter’s expectations. He found it hard to forgive unfulfilled promises. ‘We’ll see what he has to say.’
‘It doesn’t sound auspicious.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘The Grand Marché is huge. How will you know each other?’
She touched the scarf at her neck. ‘This is his.’
Dexter shrugged. ‘Give it a try.’
Tamara turned to leave.
Dexter said: ‘I’ve been thinking about Karim.’
She turned back. What now?
Dexter said: ‘He promised to get you a draft of the General’s big speech.’
‘He promised nothing,’ Tamara said firmly. ‘He said he’d see what he could do.’
‘Whatever—’
‘I don’t want to pester him about it. If we let him know that it’s important to us, he may start to think he’d better keep it to himself.’
Dexter said impatiently: ‘If he doesn’t give us information, he’s no use.’
‘I could give him a gentle hint next time I see him.’
Dexter frowned. ‘He’s a big fish.’
Tamara wondered where Dexter was going with this. She said: ‘Yes, he’s a big fish. That’s why I’m so glad I’ve won his trust.’
‘You’ve been in the Agency now for what, five years?’
‘Yes.’
‘And this is your first overseas posting.’
Tamara began to see what he was getting at. She felt angry. ‘What are you trying to say, Dexter?’ she said, not as respectful as she ought to be. ‘Spit it out.’
‘You’re new and naive.’ Her tone had given him an excuse to be harsh. ‘You aren’t experienced enough to run a source as important as Karim, one who has such high-level access.’
You asshole, Tamara thought. She said: ‘I was experienced enough to reel him in.’
‘Not the same thing, of course.’
I should know better than to fence with him, she thought. You never win an argument with your boss. ‘So who will take over from me as Karim’s contact?’