Gib inside and out.”
Suzannah came back to the dining room, rosy-cheeked with the heat of the kitchen, carrying a steaming tureen of bouillabaisse. The aroma of garlic, fresh tomatoes, seafood and cilantro wafted behind her.
“Ah. I smell something fishy,” Adam said.
“Fishy?” Zaid said. “What do you mean by that?”
“You people are too sensitive,” Drury said, waving Zaid’s words away as if he were shooing a fly.
“You people? You people?” A current of impatience emanated from Zaid, palpable, filling the garden. “To you, Berbers are animals in a zoo. You come here to observe us in our natural habitat.”
Suzannah placed the tureen on the table in front of MacAlistair’s setting and listened from a corner of the dining room.
“I forgot.” Zaid’s tone had turned to anger. “You’re more interested in the Rif, the blue-eyed, blond Arabs.” He added Lily to his disdain with a sweep of his arm. “Blue-eyed blondes like her are the only people you can trust, aren’t they?”
Embarrassed, Lily looked away toward the dining room. Suzannah studied them, eyes narrowed in thought.
Struggling for breath, MacAlistair rasped out, “Enough, Zaid.”
“More than enough,” Drury said. He started into the dining room with a disgusted shrug and plopped himself into a chair.
A paroxysm of gasps and coughs wracked MacAlistair. His cheeks flushed to bright pink as he clapped a handkerchief to his mouth. Zaid rose, reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh handkerchief.
He leaned over MacAlistair. “Sorry. So sorry.” He patted MacAlistair’s shoulder and handed him the handkerchief.
“The bouillabaisse grows cold,” Suzannah called from the dining room. Her hand rested on Drury’s shoulder.
Drury gestured to the others to join him inside. “Let’s eat.”
Cradling MacAlistair’s arm, Zaid led his friend to his place at the head of the table and held the chair for him.
In the seat next to Lily, Russ leaned toward her and asked what she was doing in Tangier, asked how she enjoyed digging in the Caves of Hercules, asked why she became an archaeologist.
Suzannah emerged from the kitchen carrying an empty bowl. “For the bones,” she said and managed to brush against Drury as she bent to set it on the table and brushed against him again when she straightened up.
She patted him on the head and slithered back to the kitchen with a wiggle. Drury’s gaze followed her. Russ kept talking to Lily, and across the table, Adam watched Drury silently.
Zaid hovered over MacAlistair for the rest of the meal—as MacAlistair ladled the bouillabaisse into bowls, as they passed them around, as they piled fish bones into the basin in the middle of the table.
Before dessert, Russ told Lily, “I’d love to show you the Rock sometime. Whenever you’re free.”
“She has tomorrow off,” Drury said from behind the mountain of bones from the bouillabaisse. “How about a day trip? Tomorrow.”
They’re talking in code, Lily thought. “You also work at the British Legation?” she asked Russ.
“Sometimes. I return to Gib tomorrow on the nine o’clock ferry.”
“That’s settled then,” Drury said. “She’ll meet you on the dock.”
Lily looked across the table at Drury.
“It’s a nice outing.” Drury’s head seemed to float over the basin of bones, as if he were presiding over a funeral for fish. “Ferry takes about two and a half hours.”
Lily added a bone to the pile on the table.
“By the way,” Drury said to MacAlistair. “Those Germans I told you about. They’re getting impossible, follow us everywhere.”
A glance and a nod passed between MacAlistair and Zaid, then between Zaid and Drury. That was all. But enough for Lily to understand the silent gestures.
Drury turned back to Lily and talk about Gibraltar.
“Gorham’s Cave has everything. Neanderthals, Phoenicians, Carthaginians. Someday maybe you’ll dig there.” He looked off into the distance. “Last refuge
Suzannah came back to the dining room, rosy-cheeked with the heat of the kitchen, carrying a steaming tureen of bouillabaisse. The aroma of garlic, fresh tomatoes, seafood and cilantro wafted behind her.
“Ah. I smell something fishy,” Adam said.
“Fishy?” Zaid said. “What do you mean by that?”
“You people are too sensitive,” Drury said, waving Zaid’s words away as if he were shooing a fly.
“You people? You people?” A current of impatience emanated from Zaid, palpable, filling the garden. “To you, Berbers are animals in a zoo. You come here to observe us in our natural habitat.”
Suzannah placed the tureen on the table in front of MacAlistair’s setting and listened from a corner of the dining room.
“I forgot.” Zaid’s tone had turned to anger. “You’re more interested in the Rif, the blue-eyed, blond Arabs.” He added Lily to his disdain with a sweep of his arm. “Blue-eyed blondes like her are the only people you can trust, aren’t they?”
Embarrassed, Lily looked away toward the dining room. Suzannah studied them, eyes narrowed in thought.
Struggling for breath, MacAlistair rasped out, “Enough, Zaid.”
“More than enough,” Drury said. He started into the dining room with a disgusted shrug and plopped himself into a chair.
A paroxysm of gasps and coughs wracked MacAlistair. His cheeks flushed to bright pink as he clapped a handkerchief to his mouth. Zaid rose, reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh handkerchief.
He leaned over MacAlistair. “Sorry. So sorry.” He patted MacAlistair’s shoulder and handed him the handkerchief.
“The bouillabaisse grows cold,” Suzannah called from the dining room. Her hand rested on Drury’s shoulder.
Drury gestured to the others to join him inside. “Let’s eat.”
Cradling MacAlistair’s arm, Zaid led his friend to his place at the head of the table and held the chair for him.
In the seat next to Lily, Russ leaned toward her and asked what she was doing in Tangier, asked how she enjoyed digging in the Caves of Hercules, asked why she became an archaeologist.
Suzannah emerged from the kitchen carrying an empty bowl. “For the bones,” she said and managed to brush against Drury as she bent to set it on the table and brushed against him again when she straightened up.
She patted him on the head and slithered back to the kitchen with a wiggle. Drury’s gaze followed her. Russ kept talking to Lily, and across the table, Adam watched Drury silently.
Zaid hovered over MacAlistair for the rest of the meal—as MacAlistair ladled the bouillabaisse into bowls, as they passed them around, as they piled fish bones into the basin in the middle of the table.
Before dessert, Russ told Lily, “I’d love to show you the Rock sometime. Whenever you’re free.”
“She has tomorrow off,” Drury said from behind the mountain of bones from the bouillabaisse. “How about a day trip? Tomorrow.”
They’re talking in code, Lily thought. “You also work at the British Legation?” she asked Russ.
“Sometimes. I return to Gib tomorrow on the nine o’clock ferry.”
“That’s settled then,” Drury said. “She’ll meet you on the dock.”
Lily looked across the table at Drury.
“It’s a nice outing.” Drury’s head seemed to float over the basin of bones, as if he were presiding over a funeral for fish. “Ferry takes about two and a half hours.”
Lily added a bone to the pile on the table.
“By the way,” Drury said to MacAlistair. “Those Germans I told you about. They’re getting impossible, follow us everywhere.”
A glance and a nod passed between MacAlistair and Zaid, then between Zaid and Drury. That was all. But enough for Lily to understand the silent gestures.
Drury turned back to Lily and talk about Gibraltar.
“Gorham’s Cave has everything. Neanderthals, Phoenicians, Carthaginians. Someday maybe you’ll dig there.” He looked off into the distance. “Last refuge
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