She shook her head. “No, I don’t think he’s Danish security. What do you think?”

“I think he’s a German gigolo who’s going to take that poor woman for every penny she has.”

“Should we warn her?”

“I’m afraid we have enough to worry about tonight.”

“Are you always such a charming date?”

“I didn’t realize this was a date.”

“It’s the closest thing to a date I’ve had in a long time.”

Gabriel gave her a disbelieving look and popped a piece of fish into his mouth. “Do you really expect me to believe you have difficulty attracting men?”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but at the moment I’m living under an assumed identity because of my role in the al-Bakari operation. It makes it rather difficult to meet men. Even my coworkers in the CTC don’t know my real name or anything about my past. I suppose it’s for the best. Anyone I met now wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. I’m afraid my heart has been taken hostage by someone else.” She peered at him over her glass. “Now is the time you’re supposed to bashfully ask me the name of the man who’s kidnapped my heart.”

“Some questions are better left unasked, Sarah.”

“You’re such a stoic, aren’t you, Gabriel?” She took a drink of her beer and resumed her appraisal of the canal houses. “But your heart is spoken for, too, isn’t it?”

“Trust me, Sarah—you can do far better than a fifty-something misanthrope from the Valley of Jezreel.”

“I’ve always been attracted to misanthropic men, especially gifted ones. But I’m afraid my timing has always been lousy. It’s why I studied art instead of music.” She gave him a bittersweet smile. “It’s Chiara, isn’t it?”

Gabriel nodded his head slowly.

“I could always tell,” Sarah said. “She’s a very lucky girl.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“She’s far too young for you, you know.”

“She’s older than you, but thanks for the reminder anyway.”

“If she ever throws you over for a younger man…” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you know where to find me. I’ll be the lonely former museum curator working the graveyard shift on the Saudi Arabia desk of the Counterterrorism Center.”

Gabriel reached out and touched her face. The cold had added a dab of crimson to her alabaster cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“We should have never used you. We should have found someone else.”

“There is no one else like me,” she said. “But I guess you already know that.”