The Command

A stir at the door announced a stiff, graying man in a British army uniform. Major General Sean Gough had headed the SIS for twenty years. He surveyed the room, talked briefly to a dark-browed man she recognized as the liaison from the U.S. embassy, and thus, she figured, the CIA chief of station.

Then he saw her, and immediately came across to bow over her hand. Cold blue eyes studied her from a foot above her head. “Sister Aisha,” he said in fluent, Saudi-accented Arabic. “Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu. How good of you to join us again. You and the commander are most welcome.”

“Thank you, General.”

“Unfortunately I have an unpleasant issue to raise. Either with you, or — perhaps—”

“What is it, General?”

Hooker, back from his conversation with the Arab. He didn’t look happy to see them together. “Good morning, General.”

“Commander.” They shook hands. Gough said, in fluting British English, “About to remark to your charming young protégée. Hearing unsettling things about the security on your base. More precisely, the security of your explosives. Not good news for those of us responsible for keeping the lid on the kettle, so to speak. Eh?”

“Sir, I’d like to—”

“No, no, Commander. Not in front of the natives. Call you this afternoon. A cozy little chat. Eh?”

Gough winked at her and turned away. Aisha could tell Hooker was furious just from the set of his fingers on the china cup. She moved away in case it should shatter.

To bump into Major Yousif. The SIS man smiled down. “Ya Naqueeb Ar-Rahim,” he said, addressing her by a police rank. “Ahlan, ahlan. Welcome, welcome, a happy occasion. It seems to be written we are to meet again and again. Why do you think that is?”

“Maybe because we’re both cops.”

“You’re the first Arabic speaker the Americans have sent us. Fortunately for us, the CIA has not yet reached that level of expertise.”

“They just haven’t told you,” Aisha said. “Pretending you’re stupid is an old American trick. You’d be surprised how well it works.”

He chuckled. “Oh, no. I’ve been taken in all these years.” He didn’t have an unattractive laugh, like some men. She noted he didn’t wear a ring, either.

“Not to ask questions where they’re unwelcome, but how well do you get along with the Americans? Or I should say, the other Americans?”

“Fine. We’re used to looking different, different religions and nationalities.” This wasn’t exactly what she thought, but you didn’t tell a host country security agency anything that didn’t reflect well.

“That’s hard to imagine. We Arabs have what I have often thought of as a centrifugal tendency. But then, our colonial history, the boundaries we were left with … and then the tragedy of Palestine. So you’re both Muslim and American.”

“I don’t see why I can’t be both.”

“You must have your own opinions.”

“I certainly do.”

“May I ask what they are?”

She decided to change the subject. “What did you find out about the man who died in the Quraifa? You were supposed to invite me to the autopsy.”

“I’m sorry. It slipped my mind you wanted to be there. It was routine. What did I find out about him? Nothing, I’m afraid. That’s why I never got back to you. The passport was false.”

“The Bahraini license?”

“Real, but not his. Reported lost some time ago.”

“So the decedent found or stole a driver’s license, and used that name to get a base ID?”

“The base ID was false, too.”

She said, surprised, “It was real. I checked it.”

“A high-quality forgery. Clearly so, under ultraviolet. We weren’t sure either, until the lab report.” He caught her expression. “Correct. Someone on the island is making forgeries good enough to fool your gate guards. We’re trying to find out who. We’re still trying to find out who this man was, too, and why he was here.”

“Will you keep me informed?”

“Always.”

She thought, And yet you didn’t tell me any of this until I asked. But then someone was saying, “Shall we take our places?” and she nodded and went back to sit with Hooker and Diehl.

Alternating between English and Arabic, the security minister read a long address from the crown prince. It was about popular participation and economic reform, and how necessary these were if the country was to move to a higher level of productivity. How citizens had to motivate themselves through education and innovation to build a modern society. How governmental officials had to set an example in morality and sincerity and be prepared to make sacrifices… She tuned out and stared out the window at the fingernail of distant blue visible far out over the nodding palms and the roofs of the city.