Karima shifted, turning her gaze to an Indian woman in a bright blue silk blouse. “That’s Carla Jacobs, one of the top lobbyists for the tech industry. Three female clients put her back in business when her husband ran off with the masseuse. Apparently he’s since contracted an STD.” She gave a mischievous wink. “Chasing youngsters comes with its risks.”

Natalie flashed back to the moment she’d met Karima, and the feeling of secret sisterhood she’d felt at Salon Badem. She loved the idea that there might be an alternate hidden power structure in DC, one that let women like Helen Cay and Carla Jacobs wend their way around the obstacles that faced them. One to which Karima was offering her access.

“I would like very much if you could join me at my home for a cocktail party next Friday night,” Karima said as she reached for her phone and started typing. “You will receive an invitation from my office. I’ve just asked them to email you.” She placed her phone on the table and smiled warmly. “There will be many wonderful people for you to meet there. I will introduce you.”

“Why are you helping me?” Natalie blurted, the question finally too loud in her head to hold in. “I know there are reporters who can give you more for a lunch than I can.”

Karima didn’t hesitate before answering. “I am helping you because you will owe me.” She looked Natalie full in the eye and unapologetic. “And I am helping you because you are young and new and smart. You will figure this town out and I want to be among the first on your team. I require friends in the press and you will remember the people who helped you at the beginning.”

“But I don’t cover the energy sector. Or foreign policy. I really won’t be able to report on oil,” Natalie explained, wishing it were otherwise.

“You needn’t report on my world to be helpful!” Karima said, looking amused. “I have many friends from the White House, Congress, the business world, always looking for a way to place information. I help them reach you, they help me reach my goals.” She smiled warmly. “Everyone wins.”

“And what are your goals?” Natalie asked.

Karima smiled in a genuine way that made creases at the corners of her eyes.

“I like that you ask this. Many wouldn’t. You are a good reporter.”

Karima’s cell phone, sitting on the table, began to buzz. When Natalie glanced at the screen, it read Jimmy’s. Apologizing, Karima answered the call impatiently.