A horse came across the pasture toward them at an easy canter, ridden by a woman with golden hair. The swelling in her face had receded, and her features had returned to normal. All except for the smudges of darkness beneath her eyes, thought Gabriel. In Sarah’s eyes there were still traces of the nightmare she had endured at the chalet in Canton Uri. She guided the horse expertly alongside the car and peered down at Gabriel. A smile appeared on her face, and for an instant she looked like the same beautiful woman he had seen walking down Q Street in Washington last autumn. Then the smile faded and with two precise jabs of her boot heel she sent the horse galloping across the meadow toward the house.

“She has good days and bad days,” Carter said as he watched her go. “But I’m sure you understand that.”

“Yes, Adrian, I understand.”

“I’ve always found personal grudges counterproductive in a business like ours, but I’ll never forgive Zizi for what he did to her.”

“Neither will I,” said Gabriel. “And I do hold grudges.”

THEY HAD a quiet lunch together in the cool sunlight on the back porch. Afterward Carter saw to the dishes while Gabriel and Sarah set out for a walk through the shadowed woods. A CIA security agent tried to follow them, but Gabriel took the agent’s sidearm and sent him back to the house. Sarah wore jodhpurs and riding boots and a fleece jacket. Gabriel was still dressed in the dark-gray suit he had worn to the Senate hearing. He carried the agent’s Browning Hi-Power in his right hand.

“Adrian doesn’t seem terribly pleased by your performance before the committee.”

“He isn’t.”

“Someone had to deliver the message about our friends the Saudis. Who better than you? After all, you saved the president’s life.”

“No, Sarah, it was you who saved the president. Maybe someday the country will find out what a debt they owe you.”

“I’m not planning to go public any time soon.”

“What are your plans?”

“Adrian didn’t tell you? I’m joining the Agency. I figured the art world could survive without one more curator.”

“Which side? Operations or Intelligence?”

“Intelligence,” she said. “I’ve had enough fieldwork for a lifetime. Besides, it will never be safe for me out there. Zizi made it very clear to me what happens to people who betray him.”

“He has a long reach. What about your security here in America?”

“They’re giving me a new name and a new identity. I get to pick the name. I was wondering whether you would allow me to use your mother’s name?”

“Irene?” Gabriel smiled. “I’d be honored. She was like you—a remarkably courageous woman. The next time you come to Israel, I’ll let you read about what happened to her during the war.”