‘Business is very personal in Africa,’ Malik said. ‘Being on friendly terms with people can be more important than giving them generous terms in a contract. The most effective thing I do here is find out whether people are discontented – and take the action necessary to keep them on our side.’
By the end of lunch Tamara had a vivid picture of this couple. Both were smart business people, knowledgeable and decisive. But Malik was amiable and laid-back, whereas Anne was lovely but cold, like her champagne. In a lucky roll of the genetic dice, Tab had inherited his father’s easy-going personality and his mother’s good looks.
Afterwards Tamara and Tab left together. ‘They’re a remarkable couple,’ she said to him in the lobby.
‘I thought the occasion was terribly stiff.’
He was not wrong, but, tactfully, she did not voice her agreement. Instead, she proposed a solution. ‘Tomorrow night, let’s take them to al-Quds,’ she said. It was Tamara’s and Tab’s favourite restaurant, a quiet Arab place where Westerners never went. ‘There we can relax more.’
‘Nice idea.’ Tab frowned. ‘They don’t serve wine.’
‘Will your folks mind?’
‘Maman won’t. Papa might want a drink. We could have champagne at my apartment before going to the restaurant.’
‘And tell your parents to wear really casual clothes.’
‘I’ll try!’
‘So,’ she said, grinning, ‘did you really work in a restaurant kitchen in California?’
‘Yes.’
‘I imagined that your parents would have bankrolled you.’
‘They gave me a generous allowance, but I was young and foolish, and one semester I overspent. I was too embarrassed to ask them for more, so I got a job. I didn’t really mind, it was a new experience. I’d never had a job before.’
Young, but not so foolish, Tamara thought. He had had the strength of character to solve the problem for himself, rather than run back to Papa and Maman for help. She liked that. ‘Goodbye,’ she said. ‘Let’s shake hands. If anyone’s watching us we’ll look like colleagues, not lovers.’
They left. In the back of her car, Tamara could stop pretending. The lunch had been awful. Everyone had felt uncomfortable. Malik might have been all right on his own; he probably would have flirted with Tamara. But Anne had the correct kind of manners that put everyone on their best behaviour.
Tamara’s relationship with Tab did not depend on his mother’s approval, she was sure of that. Anne was a strong character, but not that strong. However, if she took against Tamara it could be an irritant, something that could cause occasional friction between a couple for many years. Tamara was determined not to let that happen.
And there had to be a real woman somewhere inside Anne. She was an aristocrat who had broken out of her social circle and married the Arab son of a shopkeeper: to do that she must have been led by her heart rather than her head. Somehow Tamara would connect with the girl who had fallen head over heels in love with Malik.
She returned to the US embassy and sought out Dexter, who was back at his desk with a large bruise on his forehead and one arm in a sling. He had not thanked her for rescuing him at the refugee camp. ‘I spoke to Karim about the missing drone,’ she said.
‘Missing drone?’ Dexter looked annoyed. ‘Who told you about the missing drone?’
She was taken aback. ‘Was I not supposed to know?’
‘Who told you?’ he repeated.
She hesitated; but Susan would not care what Dexter knew or thought. ‘Colonel Marcus.’
‘The women’s grapevine,’ he said scornfully.
‘We are all on the same side, aren’t we?’ Tamara said, letting her annoyance show. The drone story was not top secret. It was just that Dexter liked to control the flow of information. Everything had to pass through him, incoming and outgoing. It was tiresome. ‘If you don’t want to hear what Karim said . . .’
‘All right, all right, go on, then.’
‘He said the General doesn’t have the drone, but I thought he was lying.’
‘Why did you think that?’
‘Just a hunch.’
‘Women’s intuition.’
‘If you like.’
‘You’ve never been in the military, have you?’
‘No.’
Dexter had served in the navy. ‘You don’t understand.’
Tamara said nothing.
‘Ordnance goes missing all the time,’ Dexter went on. ‘No one can keep track. There’s just too much stuff in too many places being moved too often.’
She was tempted to ask how he thought large international airlines managed their fleets, but she continued to hold her tongue.
‘Missing gear is missing gear,’ he said. ‘No need for a conspiracy theory.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I say so,’ said Dexter.
*
On the evening of the next day, Malik and Anne sat on stools in Tab’s small kitchen. Tab spread hummus on cucumber slices while Tamara sprinkled olive oil, salt and rosemary leaves on plain tortilla wraps and crisped them in the oven. As they moved around in the small space they touched one another frequently, as usual. Everyone chatted, but Tamara knew she was being watched, especially by Anne. However, when she caught Anne’s eye she thought she saw a pleased look. Eventually, Anne said: ‘You two are happy together.’
It was the first time she had said anything about the relationship between her son and Tamara, and it was positive, which gratified Tamara. And Anne ate all the hot tortillas.
Perhaps one day they could even be friends.
Tamara was a bit nervous about walking into al-Quds with Anne. Tamara with her dark hair and brown eyes could pass for an Arab girl, but Anne was a tall blonde. However, she was not insensitive, and tonight she had put on a headscarf and baggy linen trousers, to be less conspicuous.
The proprietor knew Tamara and Tab and welcomed them cordially, and seemed pleased when Tab introduced his parents and explained that they were visiting from Paris. Al-Quds did not get many customers who were visiting from Paris.
When the food came, Tab began a prepared speech. ‘My relationship with Tamara is a problem with our bosses,’ he said. ‘They don’t like us getting too close to officers from other countries’ intelligence services. So far we’ve been discreet, but we can’t carry on like this indefinitely.’
Anne said impatiently: ‘Do you have a plan?’
Tab abandoned his script. ‘We want to live together.’
‘After one month?’
‘Five weeks.’
Malik laughed. ‘Don’t you remember how it was with us?’ he said to Anne. ‘After a week we went to bed on a Friday and didn’t get dressed until Monday morning.’
Anne flushed and said: ‘Malik! Please!’
Malik was not to be subdued. ‘They’re the same, can’t you see?’ he said. ‘That’s what true love is like.’
Anne did not want to discuss the nature of true love. ‘Do you want children?’ she said.
They had not had this conversation, but Tamara knew how she felt. She said: ‘Yes.’
Tab said: ‘Yes.’
Tamara said: ‘I want kids and a career, and in that I have two splendid role models: my mother and you, Anne.’
‘So what will you do?’
Tab said: ‘I’m going to leave the DGSE and, if you’ll have me, Maman, I’d like to work with you in the business.’
‘I would love that,’ Anne said instantly. ‘But Tamara, how do you fit in?’
‘I’d like to stay in the CIA, if I can. I’ll try to get a transfer to the Paris embassy. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll have to think again. But here’s the bottom line: I’d leave the Agency rather than leave Tab.’
There was a moment of silence. Then Anne gave the warmest smile Tamara had yet seen on her face. She reached across the table and put her hand on Tamara’s. ‘You really love him, don’t you?’ she said quietly.
‘Yes,’ said Tamara. ‘I really do.’
*
Next day, Tab called to tell her that the French drone had failed to pick up the radio signal from the consignment, and had not sighted a bus anywhere along its route.
Abdul had disappeared.
CHAPTER 22