He took her by the arm and led her to the restroom. The door was ajar. He pushed it all the way open, looked quickly around, then stepped aside and allowed her to enter. Sarah closed the door and bolted it, then dropped the toilet seat, loudly enough so that it could be heard beyond the door.

We have several places we like to hide things, Gabriel had told her. Taped to the inside of the toilet tank or hidden inside the seat-cover dispenser. Rubbish bins are always good, especially if they have a lid. We like to hide messages inside tampon boxes, because we’ve found that Arab men, even professionals, are loath to touch them.

She looked beneath the sink, saw an aluminum canister, and put her foot on the pedal. When the lid rose she saw the box, partially concealed by crumpled paper towels. She reached down and plucked it out. Read the message quickly, Gabriel had said. Trust yourself to remember the details. Never, I mean never, take the message with you. We like to use flash paper, so if you have a lighter or matches, set it on fire in the sink and it will disappear. If not, flush it down the toilet. Worst case, put it back in the box and leave it in the trash. We’ll clean it out after you leave.

Sarah looked in her beach bag and saw she had a book of matches. She started to take them out but decided she didn’t have the nerve for it, so she tore the message to bits and flushed them down the toilet. She stood before the mirror a moment and examined her face while she ran water into the basin. You’re Sarah Bancroft, she told herself. You don’t know the woman who left the tampon box in the trash. You’ve never seen her before.

She shut off the taps and returned to the veranda. Rainwater was now spilling over the gutters in torrents. Yossi was in the process of noisily sending back a bottle of Sancerre; Rimona was examining the menu as though she found it of little interest. And Jean-Michel was watching her coming across the room as though seeing her for the first time. She sat down and watched the storm rolling across the marsh, knowing it would soon be over. You’re having dinner at Le Tetou tonight, the message had said. When you see us, pretend to be ill and go to the bathroom. Don’t worry if they send a bodyguard. We’ll take care of him.