She made her report low-key, emphasizing that this was her first contact with Haroun and he had no record with the Agency that might indicate whether he was reliable. But she knew that the glimpse of al-Farabi was electrifying news and would be relayed to every CIA station in North Africa and the Middle East immediately – no doubt with Dexter’s signature at the end of the message.
When she finished, the CIA staff were beginning to leave for the day. She returned to her apartment. Now there was nothing to take her mind away from Léonie Lanette.
A message from Tab appeared on her phone:
See you tonight? Early start tomorrow.
She had to decide what to do. She could not go on a holiday, even a short one, with a man whom she suspected of cheating. She had to confront him about Léonie. Why was she hesitating? She had nothing to fear, did she?
Of course she did. She feared rejection, humiliation, and the dreadful sense of having made a stupid misjudgement.
But it could all be a misunderstanding of some kind. That seemed unlikely, but she had to ask.
She sent a reply:
Where are you now?
He replied immediately:
At home, packing.
She sent:
On my way.
After that she had to go.
She felt shaky as she walked up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door. In a moment of nightmarish fantasy she imagined that the door would be opened by Léonie, wearing perfectly pressed lounging pyjamas.
But it was Tab and, much as she hated him for deceiving her, she could not help noticing how alluring he looked in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, with his feet bare.
‘My darling!’ he said. ‘Come in – it’s time I gave you a key. But where’s your bag?’
‘I haven’t packed,’ she said. ‘I’m not going.’ She walked in.
He went pale. ‘What on earth is wrong?’
‘Sit down and I’ll tell you.’
‘Of course. Do you want some water, a coffee, wine?’
‘Nothing.’
He sat opposite her. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I looked in at the International Bar today at about midday.’
‘I was there! I didn’t see you – ah. But you saw me, with Léonie.’
‘She’s attractive and single, and you’re clearly intimate with her. I could tell, anyone could tell just by looking at the two of you together. She even held your hand at one moment.’
He nodded, saying nothing. Any second now, she thought, he will break out into indignant denials.
But he did not.
She went on: ‘I happened to be with someone who told me who she is and explained that you’ve been having an affair with her for months.’
He gave a deep sigh. ‘This is my fault. I should have told you about her.’
‘Told me what, exactly?’
‘I had an affair with Léonie for six months. I’m not ashamed of it. She’s intelligent and charming and I still like her. But the affair ended a month before you and I took that trip to Lake Chad.’
‘A whole month! My goodness. What made you wait so long?’
He smiled wryly. ‘You’re entitled to be sarcastic. I’ve never lied to you or cheated, but I didn’t tell you everything, and that counts as deception, doesn’t it? The truth is, I was embarrassed that I fell for you so soon, and got serious so quickly. I’m still embarrassed. It makes me feel like a Casanova, which I’m not; and really, I don’t respect those men I know who count up their conquests like goals in the soccer season. All the same, I should have confessed.’
‘Who ended the affair, you or her?’
‘I did.’
‘Why? You liked her, and you still do.’
‘She told me a lie, and when I found out I felt betrayed.’
‘What lie?’
‘She told me she was single. She’s not, she has a husband in Paris, and two boys at boarding school – the one I went to, Ermitage International. She goes home in the summer to be with them.’
‘That’s why you broke up – because she’s married.’
‘I can’t feel good about sleeping with a married woman. I don’t condemn other people who do it, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to have a shameful secret.’
She remembered how he had been concerned to establish that she and Jonathan were definitely divorced, that first time she had talked to him about her past.
If this was all an elaborate lie, it was a very plausible one.
She said: ‘So you finished the affair two months ago. Why were you holding hands today?’ She immediately regretted saying that. It was a cheap shot, for they had not really been holding hands.