‘Slight change of plan.’
She sensed that this was what he was nervous about.
He said: ‘My mother will be with him.’
‘Oh, my God, she’s coming to inspect me, isn’t she?’
‘No, of course not.’ Tab looked at Tamara’s sceptical expression and said: ‘Well, yes.’
‘I knew it.’
‘Is that so bad? I’ve told them about you, and naturally she’s curious.’
‘Has she visited you here before?’
‘No.’
What had Tab said, to bring his mother to Chad for the first time ever? He must have let his parents know that Tamara was likely to become a long-term part of his life – and theirs. She should be pleased, not anxious.
Tab said: ‘It’s ironic. Here in this lawless country you face danger every day without flinching, but you’re scared of my mother.’
‘It’s true.’ She laughed at herself. All the same, she was anxious. She brought to mind the photograph in Tab’s apartment. His mother was blonde and well dressed, but that was all she could remember. She said: ‘You’ve never told me their names. I can’t very well call them “Papa” and “Maman”.’
‘Not yet, anyway. He’s Malik. She’s Marie-Anatole, but she’s always called Anne, which works in many languages.’
Tamara noticed that phrase – not yet – but did not comment. She said: ‘When do they arrive?’
‘The flight gets in around midday. We could have dinner this evening.’
Tamara shook her head. People were often cranky after flying. She preferred they should have a night’s rest before she met them. ‘You should spend the first evening alone with them,’ she said. Not wanting to suggest that they might be ill-tempered, she said: ‘You’ll need to catch up on all the family news.’
‘Maybe . . .’
‘Why don’t you and I meet them for lunch tomorrow?’
‘You’re right, that’s a better idea. But we don’t want to be seen, do we, the four of us in public? I’m not ready to confront my superiors with the news that I’m in love with a Yankee spy.’
‘I didn’t think of that. And I can’t invite them to my little studio apartment. What are we going to do?’
‘We’ll have to take one of the private dining rooms at the Lamy. Or we could have lunch in their suite. Papa always takes a single room, when he’s on his own, but Maman will have booked the Presidential Suite.’
So, no problem, Tamara thought, somewhat bemused. She still had not got used to Tab’s family’s wealth.
Tab said: ‘On our first date you wore a striped dress, navy-blue and white, with a little blue jacket and blue leather shoes.’
‘Wow, you really noticed.’
‘You looked wonderful.’
‘It made me seem demure, but you saw through the disguise pretty quickly.’
‘It would be a great outfit to wear on Tuesday.’
She was taken aback. He had never before told her what to wear. It was not like him to be controlling. She guessed it was only trepidation, but all the same she was irked that he should worry about the impression she was going to make on his mother. ‘Have faith, Tabdar,’ she said. She used his full name only when she was teasing him. ‘I probably won’t embarrass you at all. These days I hardly ever get drunk and grab the waiter’s ass.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Papa is laid-back, but Maman can be critical.’
‘I sympathize. Wait until you meet my mother, the schoolteacher. If you annoy her she’ll make you stand in the corner.’
‘Thank you for understanding.’
She pecked his cheek and got into the waiting car.
She thought about Tab’s not yet. He was assuming the time would come when she called his parents ‘Papa’ and ‘Maman’, which meant she and Tab would be married. She already knew she wanted to spend her life with him, but the wedding was not high on her to-do list. She had married twice already, both times with unsatisfactory results. She was not in a hurry to do it again.
In five minutes she was back in the leafy grounds of the US embassy. At her desk she wrote a note of the meeting for Dexter, then she went to the canteen and got a Cobb salad and a diet soda for lunch.
Susan Marcus joined her, putting her tray on the table and taking off her uniform cap, shaking her short hair to restore its natural bounce. She sat down, but she did not begin to eat her steak. ‘Abdul’s intelligence is priceless,’ she said. ‘I hope he gets a medal.’
‘If he does, we may never know. CIA honours are usually secret. They’re called jock-strap medals.’
Susan grinned. ‘Because they’re not visible, and they’re not necessary for women.’
‘Got it in one.’
Susan became serious again. ‘Listen, there’s something I want to ask you about.’
Tamara swallowed a mouthful and put down her fork. ‘Go ahead.’
‘You know that training the National Army of Chad is a big part of our mission here.’
‘Of course.’
‘You probably don’t know that we’ve been teaching some of their best people how to use drones.’
‘I did not know that.’
‘Of course this is under tight control, and the local boys aren’t allowed to operate drones without American supervision.’
‘Good.’
‘Sometimes the aircraft are destroyed in exercises. One that had a warhead blew up when it struck its target, which is what’s supposed to happen. Another was downed – shooting them down is part of the training. Naturally, we keep a meticulous tally of how many we have.’
‘Of course.’
‘But one has gone missing.’
Tamara was surprised. ‘How could that happen?’
‘A lot of drones crash: this is new technology. The official story is “guidance system malfunction”.’
‘And you can’t find it? How big is it?’
‘Drones that carry weapons over long distances are not small. This one has the wingspan of a corporate jet and needs a runway to take off. But it’s a big desert.’
‘You think it might have been stolen?’
‘The drone is normally flown by a three-man team: pilot, sensor operator and mission intelligence coordinator. However, one man could do it in a pinch. But he could do nothing without the control station.’
‘How big is that?’
‘It’s a van. In the back, the drone pilot sits in a virtual cockpit with screens showing the view from the drone, maps and aircraft instrumentation. There’s a conventional throttle and joystick. A satellite dish on the roof communicates with the aircraft.’
‘So the thief has to steal the van too.’
‘He might be able to buy one on the black market.’
‘You want me to put out some feelers?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘The drones might have been put up for sale. Alternatively, the General may have the drones under cover at some remote airstrip. Maybe someone is trying to buy a control station on the black market. I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Can I eat my salad now?’
‘Go for it.’
*
Tamara had a date with Karim for coffee on Tuesday morning.
She dressed carefully, because she had to go straight from Karim’s coffee shop to lunch with Tab’s parents. She did not put on the outfit prescribed by Tab: it would have made her feel like his puppet. However, she was not going to be mulish and dress in ripped jeans. She remembered him saying that she had the kind of simple chic that French people admired, and in truth that was her favourite style. She put on the outfit she had been wearing when he had said that, a mid-grey shift dress with a red belt.