The voices were those of Ali and Tamer Sibai, who sounded nervous even in ordinary greetings. An interesting fellow, thought Abdallah. Everyone knew him, of course, as the brother of a woman—Laila Sibai—executed in a famous adultery case. Tamer, the oldest brother, had thrown the first stone.

Abdallah compressed his lips in sympathy and respect for a man who could carry out such a duty.

“Please—no need for formalities when it’s just the two of us. Call me Ali.” “As you wish, Highn—Ali.”

Abdallah knew that Tamer had reason to be nervous. The man’s present was considerably murkier than his past. He owned several businesses—his card described him as an investor—but by far, the most profitable of them had come to Abdallah’s attention by way of requests for information from various drug-enforcement agencies in Europe and the United States.

“You’ll do me the honor of having coffee with me?” “The honor is mine.”

“I'll ring. You know, I was thinking the other day of you—how we used to play together as boys.”

“I can’t imagine that you’d remember me. I remember you, of course.”

“And I thought, ?How is it that I don’t see my old friend Tamer anymore?’ Ah, the coffee.”

Abdallah fast-forwarded the tape through the small talk and coffee that Remali custom required before any discussion of serious business.

“… and yet, as great as the pleasure of seeing you again, my friend Tamer, I’m afraid I must spoil it with bad news.”

“Bad news?”

“I hope you won’t blame the messenger for the message.” “No, of course not.”

“Very well, my friend, here it is: Through no wish of my own, I have had the misfortune to learn who dishonored your sister.”

“Name him, and he dies, even now.”

Abdallah nodded in approval. Whatever else Tamer Sibai might be, he was a man of honor. Nervousness and servility had vanished completely from his voice.

“Ah, my friend, you speak like a man, as anyone who knows you would expect. Yet, forgive me for saying that even honorable courage must be tempered, as a blade is tempered in the fire. Otherwise, it may betray you. One must not forget all caution, even in matters of this kind. A man like you must not needlessly expose himself—and his country—to the prejudice of the great world that does not understand the Remali meaning of honor.”

“I thank you for your concern. Who is he?” “Malik Badir.”

A pause on the tape before Tamer spoke again.

“I always thought it was him.” “You did?”

Even on tape, Ali’s surprise was palpable. Abdallah almost laughed, recognizing what had happened: Ali had invented the story about Badir, probably expecting to have to convince Tamer, who instead had leaped to the bait. Abdal- lah had seen the same thing happen in interrogations.

“Yes. And now I know. Again, I thank you.”