Daniel Silva - The Messenger

Alexandra lay directly before him, by far the largest private vessel in port, second in scale only to the cruise ship that had come in overnight. Gabriel turned a few degrees to port and headed toward Sun Dancer, which was anchored several hundred yards away, near the twin rocks that stood guard over the entrance of the harbor. He tied off the Zodiac at the stern and went into the main salon, which had been converted into a mobile command and operations center. There was a secure satellite telephone and a computer with a link to King Saul Boulevard. Two dozen cellular phones and several handheld radios stood in formation in their chargers, and a video camera with telephoto lens was trained on Alexandra.

Gabriel stood before the monitor and watched Sarah step out onto her private sundeck. Then he looked at Yaakov, who was on the phone to Tel Aviv. When Yaakov hung up a moment later, Gabriel held up the gift card. Alain al-Nasser- Montreal.

“That’s our girl,” Yaakov said. “Have a seat, Gabriel. King Saul Boulevard has had a busy morning.”

GABRIEL POURED HIMSELF a cup of coffee from a thermos and sat down.

“Technical hacked into the reservation system of the villa rental firm early this morning,” Yaakov said. “The villa where Sarah went last night was rented by a company called Meridian Construction of Montreal.”

“Meridian Construction is controlled entirely by AAB Holdings,” Lavon said.

“Did the reservation say who would be staying there?” Gabriel asked.

Yaakov shook his head. “The booking was handled by a woman named Katrine Devereaux at Meridian headquarters. She paid for everything in advance and instructed the rental company to have the house open and ready for his arrival.”

“When did he get here?”

“Three days ago, according to the records.”

“How much longer is he staying?”

“The reservation is for four more nights.”

“What about his car?”

“There’s a Cabriolet parked at the house now. The sticker on the back says Island Rental Cars. No computerized reservation system. Everything’s on paper. If we want the particulars we’ll have to break in the old-fashioned way.”

Gabriel looked at Mordecai, a neviot man by training. “Their office is at the airport,” Mordecai said. “It’s nothing more than a booth with a sliding aluminum shutter over the window and one door for the staff to come in and out. We could be inside in a matter of seconds. The problem is that the airport itself is under guard at night. We could lose the entire operation just to find out the name and credit card number he used to rent his car.”

“Too risky,” Gabriel said. “Any activity on the telephone?”

Mordecai had placed a transmitter in the junction box overnight. “One call this morning,” he said. “A woman. She phoned a hair salon in Saint-Jean and made an appointment for this afternoon.”

“What did she call herself?”

“Madame al-Nasser,” Mordecai said. “There’s one small problem with the tap. As it stands now, we’re at the outside edge of its range. The signal is weak and full of interference. If bin Shafiq picked up the phone right now we might not be able to make a voice ID on him because of static on the line. We need a listening post.”

Gabriel looked at Yaakov. “What about moving the boat?”

“The waters off that point are too rough to be used as an anchorage. If we dropped anchor out there to watch the villa, we’d stick out like a sore thumb. We might as well just walk up to al-Nasser’s front door and introduce ourselves.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Mikhail as he entered the salon. “I volunteer.”

“We need a static post,” Yaakov said.

“So we’ll get one.” Gabriel held up the gift card again. “What about this name? Do you recognize it?”

“It’s not an alias that we know about,” Yaakov said. “I’ll have King Saul Boulevard run it through the computers and see what they come up with.”

“What now?” asked Mikhail.

“We’ll spend the day watching him,” Gabriel said. “We’ll try to get his photograph and his voice. If we can, we’ll send them to King Saul Boulevard for analysis.”

“It’s a small island,” Lavon said, his tone cautionary. “And we have limited personnel.”

“That can work to our advantage. In a place like this, it’s not uncommon to see the same people every day.”

“True,” Lavon said, “but bin Talal’s goons will get nervous if they see too many familiar faces.”

“And what if King Saul Boulevard tells us that Alain al-Nasser of Montreal is really a Saudi GID officer named Ahmed bin Shafiq?” Mikhail asked. “What do we do then?”

Gabriel glanced up at the monitor and looked at Sarah. “I’m going back to Gustavia,” he said, still gazing at the screen. “We need a listening post.”

THE WELL-BRED ENGLISHWOMAN who greeted him fifteen minutes later at the Sibarth villa rental agency had sun-streaked brown hair and pale blue eyes. Gabriel played the role of Heinrich Kiever, a German of means who had stumbled upon paradise and now wished to stay on a bit longer. The Englishwoman smiled-she had heard many such tales before-then printed out a listing of available properties. Gabriel scanned it and frowned. “I was hoping for something here,” he said, tapping the map that lay spread over her desk. “On this point on the north side of the Island.”

“Pointe Milou? Yes, it’s lovely, but I’m afraid we have nothing available there at the moment. We do have something here, though.” She tapped the map. “The next point over. Pointe Mangin.”

“Can you see Pointe Milou from the house?”

“Yes, quite clearly. Would you like to see some photographs?”

“Please.”

The woman produced a brochure and opened it to the appropriate page. “It’s four bedrooms, Herr Kiever. Did you need something that large?”

“Actually, we might be having some company.”

“Then I suspect this will do brilliantly. It’s a bit pricey, twelve thousand a week, and I’m afraid there’s a two-week minimum.”

Gabriel shrugged, as if to say money was no object.

“No children and absolutely no pets. You don’t have a dog, do you?”

“Heavens no.”

“There’s a two-thousand-dollar security deposit as well, bringing the grand total to twenty-six thousand, payable in advance, of course.”

“When can we have it?”

She looked at her watch. “It’s ten-fifteen now. If we rush things along, we should be able to have you and your wife in by eleven-thirty at the latest.”

Gabriel smiled and handed her a credit card.

THOUGH THE ENGLISHWOMAN did not know it, the first guests arrived at the villa fifteen minutes after Gabriel and Dina had settled in. Their possessions were quite unlike those of ordinary visitors to the island. Mordecai brought a voice-activated receiver and a Nikon camera with a long lens, while Mikhail arrived with a nylon rucksack containing cellular phones, radios, and four handguns. An hour later they glimpsed their quarry for the first time when he strode onto the terrace, dressed in white shorts and a long-sleeved white shirt. Mordecai snapped several photos of him. Five minutes later, when al-Nasser emerged shirtless from the pool after a vigorous swim, he snapped several more. Gabriel examined the images on the computer but deemed them unworthy of sending to King Saul Boulevard for analysis.

At one in the afternoon the light on the voice-activated recorder turned from red to green. A burst of tone came over the line, followed by the sound of someone inside the house dialing a local number. After two rings the call was answered by a woman at La Gloriette restaurant. Gabriel closed his eyes in disappointment when the next voice on the line was that of Madame al-Nasser, requesting a lunch reservation for two o’clock. He briefly considered putting a team inside the restaurant but ruled it out after obtaining a description of the cramped beachside dining room. Mordecai, however, managed to take two more photographs of al-Nasser, one as he was climbing out of his car in the parking lot and a second as he was sipping a drink at his table. In both he was wearing dark sports sunglasses and a long-sleeved shirt. Gabriel dispatched them to King Saul Boulevard for analysis. One hour later, as al-Nasser and his wife were leaving the restaurant, King Saul Boulevard sent a flash over the secure link that the results were inconclusive.