Thank God, there was another woman there. Laila scrawled her name and the number of Malik’s office in Marseilles on a one-thousand-rial bill.

She handed the bill to the woman. “There’ll be much more if you call this number and tell whoever answers that I’m in trouble here,” she said.

The woman took the money without a word.

Back in the detention room, Laila waited for what seemed like hours. The guard brought her tea, but nothing to eat.

At last, Prince Ali swept in again. He smiled and tossed her thousand- rial note on the table. “You may keep your money. And don’t worry about your father. He’s on his way. It’s so very like him to come in person.” “You know my father?”

“We are old … acquaintances.”

At last, she realized where she had heard his name before. Malik had spoken it with anger and contempt. So this man was an enemy of her father’s.

“I want a lawyer,” she said. “I demand to know why I’m being kept here.” “Why would you need a lawyer? You’re not accused of a crime. You’re being held more in the nature of … evidence.” “Evidence of what?”

“Of various crimes. Kidnapping, for example.” “What kidnapping?”

“Your own.” He smiled again. “I see that you are confused. Let me explain. Long ago, a crime was committed in our country. It was a crime that requires two criminals, a male and a female. The female was caught and executed. The male was never found out. For years, I’ve had my suspicions as to the guilty party, and by your coming here and going where you went, you’ve allowed me to confirm them. So now we’re awaiting the arrival of the second criminal.”

So that was it: she was being used as bait to draw in her father. “I’m a citizen of France, as well as of al-Remal,” she said as haughtily as she could. “I have the right to contact the French embassy.”

The prince waved a hand. “In good time.”

One of the guards entered. “The control tower says he’s coming in, Highness.”

“Good. Come with me, Miss Badir. You’ll want to remember this event.”

They went to an arrival bay with a view of the runways. Several aides joined the prince. On the tarmac, a dozen men, who appeared to be plain- clothes police, waited in a loose knot.

“There,” pointed one of the aides. Laila recognized the flamboyant markings of her father’s private 747 as it touched down.

“Always show, always extravagance,” said Ali to the aide. “We’ll confiscate the plane, of course.”

The jet was taxiing toward the terminal. The plainclothesmen spread out in a semicircle.

There was nothing Laila could do.

A truck rolled onto the tarmac and pulled to a stop just as the big jet did.