Jahni reported for duty two days later. And too early. It was only six a.m. when he parked his new car in the temporary space the gate guard had given him a pass for. He strode into the building. He'd been here yesterday actually, but not to report, only to pick up a new uniform jacket. He wore it now, starched and pressed to perfection.

His hair was regulation length again. Just. He'd walked into the barber's shop and for a moment had the urge to tell the man to buzz it down to a quarter inch all over. But sanity returned and he had the man take off just enough to pass muster.

He went into the Special Forces unit office and found it empty. The morning sun streamed through the windows. For a moment he stood at the door to Madari's office. He rested a hand on the glass in the door, looking at the familiar room, missing its most familiar element.

"Who is she?"

The words that had dominated his mind for two days came out in a whisper. He hadn't seen Madari since he collected Jahni from the airport and took him home. They'd spoken on the phone and Madari sounded pained and puzzled at the chilly attitude Jahni could not hide.

His hand strayed to the door handle, but found the door locked. Frustrated he rattled the handle, making the door shake and the Venetian blind on the other side fall down. The sudden unfurling and flapping made Jahni spring back, hand moving towards his sidearm for a second.

Then he cursed himself for a fool, and left the silent office. He would go to the mess and have some tea to settle his nerves. Perhaps then he could start acting like the soldier he'd just proven himself to be.

~~~~

Jahni sat in the mess alone until about six forty-five, then Faraj came in.

"Idris!" He sprang up and almost ran across to Faraj.

"Kahil. Your first day back?" He offered his hand as Jahni approached and Jahni grabbed it and shook it vigorously. Ah, Faraj, the infuriating, snooty, tall bastard. He'd missed him.

"Yes. I came in early, I couldn't sleep. Faris isn't here yet."

"He normally gets here around seven-fifteen these days," Faraj said, glancing at his watch. He looked Jahni over for a moment and smiled. "You do look good, Kahil. I am glad you did so well."

"Thank you." Jahni nodded. "I'll tell you more about it sometime. But how are you? How are the children?"

"Oh, growing fast." He took Jahni's arm. "Come on to my office, I have photographs."

They walked to his office, talking mostly about the children and about Jahni's training. And it felt like the old days for a while, when they could talk like friends, even if there had always been some tension between them.

Some tension remained though. They avoided some subjects. Some names. Like Sayeed Raslan. Madari wasn't the only one with a new friend in his life. But Jahni had no interest in talking about Raslan. Another name interested him far more. Did Faraj know about Sophia Giordano? He had to. If Madari went out in public with her then everyone knew.

Everyone except Jahni.

They reached the office and Faraj unlocked it and led Jahni inside. Sitting down at the desk, Faraj pushed over the silver photograph frame that showed his two boys. Mehdi grinned at the camera, holding his baby brother at his side on a couch.

"Javid is so big now."

"Even bigger since I took that. Here, I have more." He unlocked a drawer of his desk and took out more pictures. Jahni had to work hard to display the proper enthusiasm, because going through the pictures was too much like what he'd done with the pictures that came to him in the post. Even as he looked at the two boys he saw instead Madari and Sophia Giordano. Who is she?

"Kahil?" Faraj said, making him look up. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?"

"You've just finished your third circuit of those pictures."

"Oh." Jahni put them down. He sighed. "I'm fine. Just having trouble adjusting. It's good to come home and yet... So much has changed too. It's taking some getting used to."

"Have things changed so much here? Or have you changed?"

Jahni nodded and sighed. He had of course, which didn't make it any easier. He looked across the desk, Faraj's face hard to read in the morning light that came only weakly into this side of the building. Could he ask about her?

No. Faraj was conservative. And he would find it strange, suspicious even, if Jahni didn't manage to keep the pain out of his voice. It would be one thing if Faraj thought him nosey, but jealous? The days were long gone when he could share any secret at all with Faraj, never mind that one.

"You are right though," Faraj said after a moment. "Things are changing here. In the regiment. In the country." He stopped and bit his lip. "But... well I know you Kahil. You're adaptable. You do the job that's in front of you, without dwelling on the past, or on how things could be different."

Jahni frowned at him. What was he talking about?

"I try to keep that attitude," he said, rather cautious, not sure how else to answer.

"Good. Good. You'll be fine. I mean, you'll do well, wherever you are."

"Right," Jahni said, slowly, still baffled. Faraj had a strange look in his eyes, almost pleading. Pleading with Jahni? To do what? Oh he didn't have time for this, Madari would be in soon. He would tell Jahni today, wouldn't he?

He said goodbye to Faraj and headed back to the Special Forces group offices. When he walked into the outer office, he saw Madari's office door stood open. He was here.

~~~~

Sayeed Raslan was also in his office right at that moment. But, he had been there all night.

He stretched as he stood up from his desk, holding a surveillance report. He glanced over it one more time. Yes, this was the one, the final version. Now for the final touch. He took the report to his photocopier, placed it carefully on the glass and pressed the copy button. He frowned at the copy that came out. No. Not quite right.

He opened the lid of the copier and moved the sheet of paper so it lay at a slight angle. Oh, wait, he thought, another touch. He hurried to his desk and found a couple of photographs. Nothing to do with the report, but that didn't matter. He clipped the pictures to the paper and arranged them so a tiny bit of the edges of the photographs stuck out of the side of the sheet. After all, it mentioned "attached photographs."

He liked this copy much better. It looked hastily shoved into the machine and copied quickly, photos peeking out of the side. Not enough to see what they were photographs of, just to know that the photographs were attached to the original.

Speaking of the original, he took that from the copier, returned the photographs to where they belonged, and then fed the original into his shredder, to join all the earlier versions. The copy he folded into four and put into his pocket.

A huge yawn forced its way out of him. He stretched and groaned at his aches and pains. Right, time to get some breakfast. Then he had a phone call to make. A contact over at the Royal Guard - not Faraj, definitely not. Raslan needed him to retrieve some paperwork.

~~~~

"I bought a car."

Madari looked up and smiled at Jahni as he walked into the office. Then he frowned at what Jahni had said.

"Well, good morning to you too, Kahil."

"Good morning," Jahni said, nodding. "I need you to sign off on a permanent parking space for me." He handed Madari a completed form. Madari took it, but put it on the desk without reading it, or signing it yet.

"Is that the way you report back after six months away, Captain?" He tried to make it a friendly, teasing question, baffled at Jahni's attitude. But Jahni didn't respond to the bantering. In fact he took it seriously and stood to attention.

"Captain Jahni reporting, sir."

Madari scowled now. "Sit down." He took the car parking form and signed it.

"A car, eh? Well, it's time you had one. And I suppose your salary built up nicely while you were away." He handed the form to Jahni, who took it and handed Madari another piece of paper, a smaller one. A cheque.

"For the flat. It's not the whole amount, but..."

"Oh, thank you. Ah, of course, your back pay came through, didn't it? Yes, Colonel Mohd sent me a memo last week. Look, you don't have to." He still held the cheque out, inviting Jahni to take it back.

"I think I should." Jahni made no move to take the cheque, so eventually Madari nodded, folded it and put it in his pocket.

"Thank you. So tell me about the car."

"Shouldn't we get down to work? I have a lot to report back about, and I need your orders."

Madari shoved his chair away from the desk and stood up. Orders. How about an order to spit out what the hell was wrong with him? He knew Jahni would be different, but this?

Madari strode to the window and gazed out. Had Jahni decided to end their friendship? The thought horrified him. Like losing his right arm. Why would he do such a thing? Perhaps he thought their relationship had become too unprofessional. Not compatible with the role of a Special Forces soldier.

No, it couldn't be that. He'd been fine at the airport, his old self. Something had changed since he came home. Something he'd found out.

There could only be one thing that would make him this angry, couldn't there? And what was this? Jealousy? Or simply anger at being left out of the loop. He felt betrayed.

So Madari had to talk to him. But here? In the office? He glanced around at noises out of the door, to see Sergeant Younis, his admin clerk arriving. If he told Jahni about Sophia now it would lead to a row, he had no doubt. And that couldn't happen here.

He turned from the window and spoke quietly. "Please, have dinner with me tonight. We have to talk about something."

"Of course," Jahni said. "What will we have? Italian?"

Madari winced, and then pulled himself together and matched Jahni's cold tone. "Do you have something to say to me, Captain?"

"Do you have something to say to me, Faris?" Jahni asked, meeting his eyes.

A thousand things, and none of them I dare to, not here. Or perhaps... Madari moved to close the office door, nodding at Younis. Perhaps this was exactly the place. Where they couldn't have a row. Jahni was a professional. He wouldn't start yelling at his commanding officer, in earshot of a sergeant. Would he?

He drew the blinds on the door, took a deep breath, and turned back to Jahni, who still sat at the desk, not looking at him.

"You know, don't you? About Sophia Giordano?"

Jahni turned and looked at him, eyes dark and angry. "Yes."

"How?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Kahil, she..."

What could he say? She means nothing? That wasn't true. She meant a lot to him. What could he say? I'm seeing her for your sake, to stop people gossiping about us? The fact it means I get regular sex with a beautiful woman is just something I have to put up with.

"She is a good person."

"I'm sure."

"Kahil..." He walked over and sat on the edge of the desk, making Jahni turn his head away. "Please, look at me." Jahni didn't obey. "It doesn't make any difference to our friendship. Why should it?"

"Of course not. Why should it?" His voice was flat and tight.

"She knows that now you're back I'll spend more time with you. And really, there's no reason why you two shouldn't be friends."

Jahni didn't answer that in words, but the snorting noise he made indicated his feelings pretty clearly. Now he turned to look at Madari again.

"If it makes no difference to us, then why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I'm an old fashioned man. I don't talk about such things."

"Not even to me?"

"Not even to you. And not on the telephone. Look, I'm sorry." He put his hand on Jahni's shoulder. "I should have said something sooner. I'm sorry you had to find out from someone else."

Madari wished he knew who that someone else poking their nose into his business might be. Had it been a deliberate attempt to hurt Jahni? To hurt both of them and damage their friendship? Who would do that? Not Faraj, surely?

Jahni still hadn't replied, and Madari guessed he wasn't going to. No sense in pushing it, perhaps making him angrier. Let him process what Madari had told so far. They would have dinner tonight, Madari's treat, as a welcome home, and he would explain everything then. He squeezed Jahni's shoulder.

"Dinner then? Tonight?"

Jahni looked back at him at last, his face still troubled, but less furious now. He nodded.

"Excellent." Madari stood up and sat at his desk again. "Now, you are right, we really do need to get to work."

~~~~

"I didn't want to show you this."

Raslan took a folder from his briefcase. He and Faraj sat in Faraj's office at home.

"Is the door locked?" Raslan asked, glancing back at it.

"Locked? No... wait." Faraj went over and turned the key in the lock. Although the servants or Janan would always knock, Mehdi was inclined to burst in without warning. "Now, what is it?"

Raslan hung onto the folder, as Faraj came back to sit down. He bit his lip and shook his head.

"I really don't... No, I shouldn't show this to you. You're not authorised, but, it isn't only that, I really don't want to hurt you this way."

He moved to put the folder back in his briefcase, but Faraj leaned forward and put his hand on the case, preventing Raslan from opening it.

"Sayeed, if it's something important."

"It is, for the sake of your regiment, it is. But, it's about Madari, and knowing your long friendship with him, the respect you have for the man, to show you this, it will --"

"Show me."

Raslan sighed and shook his head. "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Tell me what's going on."

"Very well, but please, remember, I warned you."

Faraj felt ready to snatch the folder from Raslan's hand, but he controlled himself and waited as Raslan opened it, revealing papers and photographs inside.

"Most of these are copies, which I had to smuggle out. Obviously at Intelligence we keep dossiers on many senior military officers. Especially those with some celebrity status, like Madari."

The celebrity status from the guerrilla war had started to wane, Faraj knew. Perhaps that was why Madari had started his high profile Special Forces unit. He had a taste for the limelight.

"Madari had been under low level surveillance since the Restoration. But recently, since he started reporting to the king more often, that's been stepped up."

He handed Faraj some photographs, of Madari, taken from a distance. In some of them the Italian woman was with him.

"Sayeed," Faraj said, smiling. "I don't think you need surveillance to tell you he is seeing this woman. My wife and her friends discuss it at the beauty parlour."

"Your wife and her friends don't know who she really is."

"What?"

"We're not certain, but she probably works for Italian intelligence. One day we'll prove it and deport her."

Faraj stared. "You're saying she's a spy? What does she want from Madari?"

"Whatever she can get. She's hardly an enemy agent, but there's always a possibility of a security breach."

Faraj shook his head. "I should warn him. He can't possibly know. He would never fraternise with a spy. If he said something to her, accidentally, about the king... I've heard of this sort of thing. Mata Hari, pillow talk."

To his surprise, Raslan laughed. "Pillow talk seems very unlikely!"

Faraj stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"She may be trying to use him to glean information, but he is surely using her in return. She's a cover, Idris. He's found a woman willing, for her own reasons of course, to play the part of his mistress."

"A cover?" Faraj felt sick, suddenly.

"A cover for his real preferences. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"No!" Faraj snapped, standing up. "He told me... If you mean him and Kahil. He told me... They never, they're not... What's this?" Raslan was holding out some sheets of paper, photocopies by the look of them. Faraj recognised the top one at once. A Royal Guard expenses claim form.

He took the sheets from Raslan's hand, and leafed through. More claim forms, and receipts, from hotels, in London and Los Angeles. The claim forms were signed by Madari, authorised by Rahama.

"Expenses claims." Raslan spoke quietly. "For hotel rooms for him and Jahni on their trips abroad. Look at the receipts." Faraj did, read the typed up hotel bills.

"One room," Faraj said. All the receipts said the same thing. "But... They shared a room, that doesn't mean anything. Madari was always careful with money, he would always minimise expenses. It doesn't mean they shared..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. A bed. Shared a bed. "Is this all you have?"

Raslan looked down. He had one more piece of paper in the folder.

"Idris, this is far from the full dossier, it's only what I've managed to smuggle out. Most of it has been suppressed by my superiors. Because of this." He laid his hand on the sheet. "I found it in there and managed to make a copy before I lost access to it. I've hung onto it for months, honestly too afraid of what I had."

He looked scared now, his eyes wide, like a man holding a live grenade.

"What is it?"

"A surveillance report." He held it up, but didn't give it to Faraj yet. His hand trembled slightly. "You know, I used to think I was quite a worldly man. Then I joined Military Intelligence and discovered there is a whole other world that men like you and I never see." When Faraj reached for the paper, Raslan pulled it away. "I think you should sit down first."

Faraj scowled, but did sit and Raslan handed over the report at last. It was difficult to interpret at first, a date and times, a street name. And Madari's name, and Jahni's. The date went back nearly eight months.

"There are areas of the city that I know you have never been to. Places where criminal activity of all kinds goes on. And there are hotels there." He laughed. "Not the kind of hotels you are used to. These are so-called hotels where they rent the rooms out for an hour, or an afternoon at a time."

Faraj had heard vaguely of such places, whispers of places where two people who were not meant to be seeing each other might meet in secret. Of course, he had assumed that meant a man and a woman, having an extra-marital affair.

"Military Intelligence watches these places, in case any senior officer is seen there. And I'm afraid... Well, Madari was. He and Jahni were seen entering a hotel that is known to rent out room to men for..." Faraj looked at him sharply, and Raslan hesitated, and then went on. "For... assignations."

Faraj tried to read the report again, but the words danced in front of his eyes. Bile rose in his throat. He fixed on one word on the page.

"Photographs. It says..." He frowned at it, "it says, 'see attached photographs of subjects arriving and leaving establishment'. Where are they?" He could see the edges of pictures peeking out, even the shape of the paperclip that had held them.

"I couldn't get the photographs," Raslan said, shaking his head. "I almost got caught copying this. I just didn't have the time. I'm sorry."

Raslan reached out to take the report back, but Faraj held on to the paper, trying to read it again. It started to make more sense, despite the whirling in his head. Two hours and fifteen minutes they were inside. They arrived and left separately, but the operative doing the surveillance know who both of them were. Of course, celebrity status.

It hit him then, the nausea, and he ran to the door. He gave a growl of frustration when it didn't open, then he fumbled with the key, wrenched the door open and ran to the nearest toilet.

After he stopped throwing up, he washed out his mouth, with water and then mouthwash, and leaned over the sink, his head resting on his arm, that supported him against the wall. A brief glance in the mirror showed him a pasty, greenish face, and reddened eyes. His hair hung loose over his forehead.

"Idris?" Raslan appeared at the door, which Faraj had been in too much of a rush to close. God, he hoped nobody else had been around to see him. "Are you okay now?"

Faraj wasn't okay. His head still whirled, his vision full of black spots. Lied to. He'd asked Madari a direct question, and Madari lied to him. He put the regiment in danger of being dragged into a horrible scandal. He could have been blackmailed and forced to betray the regiment. He lied. He lied!

Could it really be true? Could there be some kind of explanation? Some legitimate reason for them to go to that place? Like what? He sneered at himself, crumpling the report he still held in his sweating hand. Grow up. They met there for sex. What other explanation could there be?

He groaned and turned his head, burying his face against his arm. A moment later he felt a hand on his shoulder and Raslan spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry I showed it to you."

"No, you were right to," Faraj said, not looking around, eyes still closed tight against his forearm. "I've been deluded for too long. I had to know the truth."

They stood in silence for a while, Raslan still resting his hand on Faraj's shoulder. A comforting touch. Natural, normal, between friends. Why hadn't he let himself see the difference in the way they touched each other? Why hadn't he followed his instincts that something was very wrong between them?

He tried to calm himself. He had to think this through. Not rush off in a rage like this. It could still be a mistake. The dizziness subsided and he straightened up, away from the wall. Raslan let go and stepped away, while Faraj folded the report and put it in his pocket. He ran some water into the sink and bathed his face, trying to look normal again.

"Sayeed," he said, drying his hands and face. "I need to think about this for a day or two, and I need to check some things myself."

"Of course, you owe him that much, I know. And Jahni..." He shook his head. "You know, I don't know how to see him in all this. Did he tempt Madari, or is he the victim here? Could he simply not resist the advances of a man who is his commanding officer after all?"

Jahni had been very vulnerable for a while in the camp, Faraj remembered, after he heard of his family's deaths. In such a state a man might accept almost any comfort, any distraction from the pain.

"I don't know. Kahil is young, impulsive. Madari..."

"Is old enough to know better. But instead he took advantage of his position." When Faraj looked at him, Raslan shrugged. "I don't know, I'm only speculating."

"I owe it to both of them to take my time to consider."

"I understand," Raslan said, nodding. "I'm still sorry I had to bring this to you."

"Don't be sorry, Sayeed, please. I'm glad you did."

You had to be grateful to a man who brought you the truth. He held out his hand and Raslan shook it. A man who brought the truth was the best friend anyone could have.

~~~~

Jahni needed a drink.

The dinner with Madari only made him feel worse. She sounded nice. That was the worst part. Sophia sounded nice, and he knew he should be happy that Madari had found someone who made him happy. But he couldn't feel that. He could feel nothing but bitterness. He'd had to choke down his food, it all tasted like ashes to him.

The only ray of light had been when Madari told him Sophia and her husband couldn't divorce. At least he didn't have to fear that one day Madari would tell him they were getting married.

Of course, she was young enough to have a child. They probably didn't intend to, but sometimes these things just happened, didn't they?

So Jahni needed a drink.

Around here the only place to get a drink, at least in pleasant surroundings was in the big international hotels near the airport. Jahni walked into the hotel bar, when the clock stood only a few minutes shy of midnight, and took a seat at the counter. The barman gave him a slightly odd look, not used to locals in here, perhaps. But he served Jahni a beer with a whisky chaser, without saying anything.

Jahni drank the beer quickly and lingered over the whisky, letting the ice cubes slowly melt.

"If you wanted whisky and water you should have just asked for it."

He looked around, at a smiling woman, whose impertinent remark had been in an American accent.

"Did you say something?" Jahni asked.

"Just that water comes in liquid form. You don't have to get it as ice and wait for it to melt, ruining perfectly good single malt in the process, I might add."

She held an empty whisky glass herself and shook it to the barman, who brought her another. Neat, no ice or water.

"But I suppose you're not used to drinking," she went on, to Jahni. He scowled.

"I might be more used to it than you think."

"Really? Well, let me buy you one and you can show me."

He stared at her for a moment, with more interest now. She was older than him, perhaps in her early or mid thirties, with a groomed, business-like look, wearing a skirt and blouse and high heeled shoes. Travelling on business, he thought. And chatting up young men in hotel bars.

Well, if he'd learnt only one thing while training with the SAS, it was that you never turn down a free drink. He nodded to her offer and she signalled the barman for another neat whisky.

Jahni threw back the watered down spirit he'd been drinking. When he put down his glass, she held out her hand to him to shake.

"Lisa." She didn't give a last name, so neither did he.

"Kahil."

"Pleased to meet you, Kahil. You're local I take it?"

"Yes. You're American?"

"From Houston, Texas."

"I have a friend who's from Texas."

"Well don't say 'maybe you know him'!" She laughed. "It's a big place." She nodded back at a booth, where a briefcase sat open on the table, papers scattered around. "Come and sit with me for a while, Kahil. You seem much more interesting than reviewing contracts."

Is this how it started with Madari and Sophia? Just a friendly chat. Perhaps. But Sophia lived here. Lisa was only passing through. So if she was interested in the same thing as Sophia, she'd have to move a lot faster.

That suited Jahni. Another thing he'd learnt in Britain, even if he had restrained himself from acting on it. Western women were much more forward.

Jahni had no need to restrain himself now. No need at all. He followed Lisa to her table, and an hour later, at her invitation, he followed her to her room.