When she looked out the window again, Alexandra seemed to fill the horizon. She could see Nadia and Rahimah catching the last of the day’s sunlight on the foredeck, their black hair twisting in the wind. And Abdul & Abdul huddled with Herr Wehrli on the afterdeck, plotting their next conquest. And floating above it all, dressed in white with one arm raised in greeting, was Zizi. Turn back, she thought. Drop me on solid ground. You stay here, Mr. bin Talal. I’ll see myself back to London, thank you. But she knew there was no turning back now. Gabriel had given her one last chance in Surrey, and she had agreed to see it through.

The Sikorsky settled over Alexandra’s stern and sank slowly toward the helipad. Sarah saw something else: Zizi in the exhibition room of Julian’s gallery, warning her that no one could slip a forgery past him, in business or in art. I’m not a forgery, she told herself as she climbed out of the helicopter. I’m Sarah Bancroft. I used to be a curator at the Phillips Collection in Washington. Now I work for Isherwood Fine Arts in London. I’ve forgotten more about art than you’ll ever know. I don’t want your job or your money. In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you.

BIN TALAL showed her to her quarters. They were larger than her flat in Chelsea: a sprawling bedroom with separate seating area, a marble bathroom with sunken tub and Jacuzzi, a sweeping private deck which at that moment was lit by the setting sun. The Saudi laid her bag on the king-size bed like a hotel bellman and started to pull at the zipper. Sarah tried to stop him.

“That’s not necessary. I can see to my own bag, thank you.”

“I’m afraid it is necessary, Miss Sarah.”

He lifted the top and started removing her things.

“What are you doing?”

“We have rules, Miss Sarah.” The profound courtesy was now absent from his voice. “It’s my job to make certain the guests adhere to those rules. No alcohol, no tobacco, and no pornography of any kind.” He held up an American fashion magazine she’d picked up at the airport in Miami. “I’m afraid I have to confiscate this. Do you have any alcohol?”

She shook her head. “And no cigarettes either.”

“You don’t smoke?”

“Occasionally, but I don’t make a habit of it.”

“I’ll need your mobile phone until you leave Alexandra.”

“Why?”

“Because guests aren’t allowed to use cellular telephones aboard this craft. Besides, they won’t function because of the ship’s electronics.”

“If it won’t function, then what’s the use of confiscating it?”

“I assume your cell phone has the ability to take photographs as well as record and store video and audio clips?”