The man with the pistol peered in the window and smiled. “It’s you, Malik son of Omar. Just when I was sure I’d caught an Israeli spy. The peace of God be with you.”

“The peace of God and his compassion with you, Salim son of Hamid. I started to say ‘Lieutenant,’ but I see that you’re a captain now.”

“The spoils of war, young sir. Not that we got within a thousand miles of the shooting—which was over soon enough, God knows. But the airport, which is my duty to guard, is still in Remali hands, by God’s will.” Despite his friendly words, the man had an intense expression, which he now focused on Amira.

“But who’s this?”

“The offspring of an acquaintance,” said Malik casually. “In a moment of weakness, I agreed to be a driving instructor.”

The man was staring so hard at Amira that she instinctively lowered her eyes and turned her face away. Caught. She was sure of it.

“Modest,” the captain said. “As modest as a girl. A good thing to be modest, with such an ill-featured face as that.”

Amira’s cheeks burned. How dare this stranger stare at her and insult her? Then she realized that he was only being polite, substituting an insult for a compliment to avoid bringing her bad luck.

“It’s good to see you, Salim. May we meet again soon. But unless you’d like to interrogate us, I hope to join my family for prayers, God willing.” The wiry man laughed. “Even if I liked it, Malik son of Omar, you and your young friend might not. Go in peace. Your father is well?” “Alive and cantankerous as ever, thank God. And yours?”

“Hanging on, praise God.”

“The peace of God go with you.” “And with you.”

Half a mile down the road, Malik finally let out a long breath. “You can change now, Little Sister. You did well. Were you afraid?”

“A little. He stared at me so.” Malik laughed. “Yes, he did.”

“Do you think he knew I was a girl?”

Malik laughed harder. “Salim ibn Hamid is a good enough man, I sup- pose, if a little dense. I know him only slightly. But it’s said that he’s one of those who finds pleasure in boys—boys too young to shave.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Yes, it appears you’ve made a conquest, Little Sister. I can hear the poet now: ‘The Star-Crossed Love of Salim and Amira.’ The Egyptians will make a movie of it.”

“Malik!”