Gabriel twisted his head round. “You’re right, Yaakov. He would have played it differently. First he would have killed Leah and left her body on some road in the south of England. Then he would have sent his three shaheeds into the Gare de Lyon and turned it into rubble.”

Yaakov backed off on the throttle. “That was the dumbest move I’ve ever seen,” Yaakov said, then, in a concessionary tone, he added: “And by far the bravest. They’d better pin a medal on you when we get back to King Saul Boulevard.”

“I fell into Khaled’s trap. They don’t pin medals on officers who walk into traps. They leave them in the desert to be picked over by the vultures and the scorpions.”

Yaakov brought the dinghy to the stern of Fidelity. Gabriel climbed out onto the swim platform and scaled the ladder up the aft deck. Dina awaited him there. She was wearing a heavy sweater, and the wind was tossing about her dark hair. She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck.

“Her voice,” Gabriel said. “I want to hear the sound of her voice.”

DINA LOADED THE TAPE and pressed PLAY.

“What have you done to her? Where is she?”

“We have her, but I don’t know where she is.”

“Where is she? Answer me! Don’t speak to me in French. Speak to me in your real language. Speak to me in Arabic.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“So you can speak Arabic. Where is she? Answer me, or you’re going down.”

“If you kill me, you’ll destroy yourself—and your wife. I’m your only hope.”

Gabriel pressed STOP, then REWIND, then PLAY.

If you kill me, you’ll destroy yourself—and your wife. I’m your only hope.”

STOP. REWIND. PLAY.

“I’m your only hope.”

STOP.

He looked up at Dina. “Did you run it through the database?”

She nodded. “No match on file.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said. “I have something better than her voice.”

“What’s that?”

“Her story.”

He told Dina how the girl’s story of pain and loss had virtually tumbled out of her during the final miles before Paris. How her family had come from Sumayriyya in the Western Galilee; how they had been driven out during Operation Ben-Ami and forced into exile in Lebanon.

“Sumayriyya? It was a small place, wasn’t it? A thousand people?”

“Eight hundred, according to the girl. She seemed to know her history.”

“Not everyone from Sumayriyya obeyed the orders to flee,” Dina said. “Some of them stayed behind.”

“And some of them managed to sneak back across the border before it was sealed. If her grandfather was truly a village elder, someone would remember him.”

“But even if we’re able to learn the girl’s name, what good will it do? She’s dead. How can she help us find Khaled?”