Huda crossed to Khalid’s window and peeked through the curtain. Ally was in the garden, rocking back and forth in the swing seat, watching the flames of al-Dora. She’d been right—Ghassan could not be convinced to stay. Huda couldn’t leave her alone, not with thousands of criminals newly freed from their cells, so she’d phoned Abdul Amir to warn she was bringing the young woman home with her. He’d retreated to his bed, and stayed there, reading the sports section, until his six Turkish beers lulled him to sleep. He’d been snoring ever since.

Huda crept from Khalid’s room, tiptoed through the kitchen, and slipped out the back door. A hoot of laughter drifted over the fence, followed by the salty-slick aroma of lamb roasting on a spit. Three doors down, the Rani family was celebrating.

Ally clambered to her feet.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too.” Huda waved her back into the swing seat. “Sit, sit. We can keep each other company.”

“How’s Abdul Amir’s migraine?”

“He’s all right, my dear.” Huda ferreted through the pocket of her dressing gown for a pack of cigarettes and made much ado of flicking the flint on her lighter, nursing the tiny flame, all so she could avoid eye contact while she lied. “It usually takes him a day to recover, so he may be a little blurry-headed tomorrow.”

Huda sat on a bench by the orange trees. The moon fell through the quivering leaves and dappled her skin with shadows.

“I’m sorry I’ve put you out,” said Ally. “Tom is sorry too.”

“Well, he must attend to his duties.”

“His embassy duties?” Ally smirked. “What about his manly duties?”

Huda smothered a laugh.

“You tell me. You’re the one bringing it up.”

“What’s that?” Ally cupped her hand to her ear. “Did you say, getting it up?”

Huda laughed out loud. “Who knew diplomats’ wives were such brazen hussies.”

“How dare you.” Ally stuck her hands on her hips and feigned offense. “I’m not a sleazy diplomat’s wife. I’m a high-class Russee hooker. Just ask any man driving by. He’ll tell you.”

The women tittered like sparrows.

“In all seriousness . . .” Huda blew out a stream of smoke. “How is the pay for a high-class hooker? I need some extra cash.”

Ally cackled and collapsed sideways onto the swing set. Huda doubled over, shaking with laughter. You’re hysterical, a voice inside her snapped. Don’t forget—Abu Issa will want answers. Huda’s laugh petered out. If she had to pry into Ally’s past, best to do it here, in the garden, with their words camouflaged by the rustling leaves and the music from the al-Ranis’ party.

“Someone called the embassy today, wanting to speak to you.”

“Me?” Ally sat up straight. “Who was it?”

“A journalist.”

“Really?” The word sidled slowly from Ally’s lips.