“Many special people. But what you’re asking, I think, Sandra, is whether I’m on the verge of marrying someone. I’m sorry to say no.” He did look genuinely sad. “I have no plans in that direction. No one, really, could replace my beloved wife.”

The newswoman respectfully recounted the story of Genevieve’s accident. “Then there was another brush with tragedy,” she said to Malik. “You were shot in a kidnap attempt on your daughter. You lost an arm.”

Jenna gasped. She hadn’t really noticed the way Malik’s jacket fell; it looked casually draped over his shoulders. Now she saw that the left sleeve was simply empty.

“… told me the wound wasn’t dangerous,” her brother was saying, ‘‘although the bone was smashed. But then there were complications, infection. Nothing to do but lop it off.”

My God, thought Jenna, how could this happen? Why didn’t I know? “Would you say that your success, your vast wealth, has been a mixed blessing?” asked Sandra Waters, reaching out to touch Malik’s good arm. Jenna would have given one of her own arms to trade places with her at that moment.

Malik merely shrugged.

“And now there’s another difficulty in your life,” Waters went on. “I’m sure you know what I mean. Rumors are rampant that you’re about to be charged with violating French espionage laws for your part in the sale of Mirage jets to a third-world nation—the aircraft then being resold to the kingdom of al-Remal?”

Jenna hadn’t heard of this, either.

“A misunderstanding,” said Malik, “which will soon be cleared up.” “Just a misunderstanding?”

“Of course.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“No. But trust me, it will be cleared up soon.”

Jenna was watching so intently that she hadn’t noticed Karim entering the room.

“Do you know him?” he asked, a bit too casually. “Malik Badir?” “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Just the way you looked. I thought maybe he was someone you’d met.”

“Does he seem like someone I’d be likely to meet?” “I don’t know. Just asking.”

O

For two days, Jenna worried about her brother’s legal problems. She had to know more, more than he was willing to say on television. Finally, she decided to call Laila, just this once. She had heard from her niece twice since their last meeting, then nothing. Jenna couldn’t blame her, not after she had broken off their budding relationship with lame-sounding excuses. Besides, Laila must have a hundred better things to do than call a woman she scarcely knew.

Laila, still at the Pierre, didn’t seem surprised by Jenna s call. How have you been?” she asked.

“Fine, fine. And you? Are you enjoying Columbia?” “Yeah. A lot.”

“Let’s see … you must be a junior now.” “Senior.”