It happened so quickly. Ali reeled with the blow. Then, with a snarl, he was on Malik like an animal, like the time he beat and raped Amira. And suddenly, Malik, with only one arm, was down, gasping for breath as Ali’s hands clenched his throat.

Even at that moment, and always after, Jenna knew that she could have screamed for help. Someone would have been there in seconds—Farid, Jabr, someone. But pictures were flashing through her mind, the way people supposedly saw their whole lives when they were drowning: Alexandria, the hospital in al-Remal, Ali’s sneer just now when he threatened her life.

She didn’t scream. She dashed inside, took the heavy blue-black little revolver from the chess table, pressed the safety lever, walked back to where Ali was choking Malik, aimed at her husband’s back, and fired three times.

After that, everything was confusion. Malik was holding the gun, and people were swarming: Farid, bodyguards, the chef, and two strangers who turned out to be Ali’s men and had to be disarmed themselves. And Laila.

Malik, his voice a hoarse croak, was telling everyone, “He tried to kill me. I had to shoot.” Then, while someone called the police and a bodyguard hopelessly tried CPR on Ali, he took Jenna aside. “I’m going to handle this, do you understand? No, not a word. Do you remember how I swore to protect those I love? I’ve failed everyone but you. You owe me this chance.”

She was too numb to answer. Two questions battled in her mind. What would this do to Laila? And what would she tell Karim?

41. Retribution

Retribution

Arrest. Indictment. Sensation.

From the beginning, things went badly for Malik. At his arraignment, bail was denied on the ground that his resources would make it easy for him to leave the country. Meanwhile, the publicity was like a poisonous cloud. Almost daily, the media trumpeted some damaging aspect of Malik’s past—the espionage case, the fate of Laila’s true mother, even questions about the circumstances surrounding Genevieve’s death. Every story mentioned his vast wealth; the message was that here was a man who considered himself above the law. Well-timed leaks from the office of the district attorney, who was in a close race for reelection, fed the fire.

By contrast, Ali was portrayed as a Remali national hero and a friend of America, a royal prince with progressive ideas who might one day have been king. Whereas the photographs that the networks and newspapers used of Malik seemed to have been culled from a file of the most unflattering images possible, those of Ali showed a handsome, dashing pilot in his air force uniform. His grieving widow and children were interviewed.