Ally scrutinized her own body for signs of wrongdoing. Her skirt skimmed her ankles, and her T-shirt was modest enough—not baggy, but not body-hugging either. She glanced at Huda. Her dark trousers sat tight on her hips, and her tailored blouse left her forearms exposed. Crimson toenails peeked from Huda’s kitten-heeled pumps.

“Do you ever have any problems on the street?” asked Ally.

“Me? No, not at all.” The Iraqi woman looked her up and down. “I do not see anything wrong with what you wear.”

Tom blew on his coffee.

“Would you do us a favor, Huda?” he said. “Ally needs to hire a driver. Can you help?”

“I have one letter to translate, then I’d be happy to help,” replied Huda. “By the way, you’re due to meet the ambassador in a few minutes.”

After Tom and Huda left, Ally finished her water, spread the flat cushions over the bench, and lay down. She tried to forget about the men in the Oldsmobile. As the air conditioner above her head hissed like a serpent, she tried to remember only a sky the color of forget-me-nots.

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

“I told you, if you want me to read your coffee grounds, you must be calm.” Huda flipped open her notepad. “Besides, Mr. Tom would like us to concentrate on finding a driver.”

“I am calm.” Ally set her coffee cup down on Huda’s desk. “Honest.”

Huda raised a brow. The girl was like a camel unable to see its own hump.

“Come on.” Ally gestured at her wild hair, still damp with sweat. “Don’t I look like a woman who’d benefit from a little guidance from a higher power?”

As she spoke, Ally’s hands flew about like birds. Huda found her unfiltered energy hard to resist.

“Just a quick look?” said Ally. “What would it hurt?”

“Hurt?” echoed Huda.

Even though her colleagues always kept Ally at a safe distance, Huda used to believe it wouldn’t hurt to entertain the girl a little, to offer her a drink and a sympathetic ear. It wasn’t against the law. Not really. Now, she asked herself, how wrong could she have been? Huda turned away and searched for a pen. Bryan Adams crooned from the cassette player wedged beside the phone, but for a change, his velvet voice provided no comfort. Huda’s every move, every breath, felt false. Damn the mukhabarat.

“First, let’s focus on a driver,” she said, “and then I will look at the grounds.”

Ally grinned.

“Do not expect too much,” warned Huda. “I am not a performing dolphin.”

“You mean ‘performing seal’?”

“Is it not a dolphin that jumps through the hoops?”

“Well, yes,” laughed Ally. “I guess you’re right.”