Gabriel read the first few paragraphs of the story. “He obviously has friends in high places—Egyptian and French intelligence to name two. The Mukhabarat was watching me from the moment I set foot in Cairo. They photographed me in the nightclub, and after the bombing they sent that photograph to the French DST. Khaled orchestrated the whole thing.”

“Unfortunately, there’s more to the story. David Quinnell was found murdered in his Cairo apartment yesterday morning. It’s safe to assume we’re going to be blamed for that, too.”

Gabriel handed the newspaper back to Shamron, who returned it to his briefcase. “The fallout has already begun. The foreign minister was supposed to visit Paris next week, but the invitation has been rescinded. There’s talk of a temporary break in relations and diplomatic expulsions. We’re going to have to come clean to avoid a major rupture in our relations with France and the rest of the European Community. I suppose that eventually we’ll be able to repair the damage, but only to a degree. After all, a majority of French still believe we were the ones who flew those planes into the World Trade Center. How will we ever convince them we had nothing to do with the Gare de Lyon bombing?”

“But you warned them before the bombing took place.”

“True, but the conspiratorialists will view that only as further evidence of our guilt. How did we know the bomb would explode at seven o’clock unless we were involved in the plot? We’ll have to open our books at some point, and that includes you.”

“Me?”

“The French would like to talk to you.”

“Tell them I’ll be at the Palais de Justice on Monday morning. Ask them to hold a room for me at the Crillon. I never have any luck getting a good room at the Crillon.”

Shamron laughed. “I’ll keep you away from the French, but Lev is another story.”

“Death by committee?”

Shamron nodded. “The inquiry will begin tomorrow. You’re the first witness. You should expect your testimony to take several days and that it will be extremely unpleasant.”

“I have better things to do besides sitting before Lev’s committee.”

“Such as?”

“Finding Khaled.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Gabriel told Shamron about the girl from Sumayriyya.

“Who else knows about this?”

“Only Dina.”

“Pursue it quietly,” Shamron said, “and for God’s sake, don’t leave a trail.”

“Arafat had a hand in this. He fed us Mahmoud Arwish and then killed him to cover his tracks. And now he’ll reap the public relations rewards of our alleged involvement in the Gare de Lyon plot.”

“He already is,” Shamron said. “The world’s media are lining up outside the Mukata waiting for their turn to interview him. We’re in no position to lay a finger on him.”