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ago.”
    Yael nodded impatiently. “And?”
    â€œThe railing was loose and she slipped over.”

Six
    Y ael sat back down, trying to absorb the news that Olivia was dead. Shock, then a wave of sadness coursed through her. She and Olivia had spoken just a couple of days ago and made plans for a dinner at Le Perigord, an upmarket French restaurant a few blocks away, to catch up and gossip. Olivia was not yet a close friend but could have become one. She was fun, vivacious, and, unlike most at the UN, could be trusted to keep a secret.
    Yael tried to put her sadness aside. Olivia was dead. Someone had leaked her memo and she was about to be sacked. Too much had happened this morning. Think . “When?”
    â€œYesterday morning,” Hussein said.
    â€œWhen did Dubois start work?”
    â€œYesterday afternoon.”
    â€œWho decided that Olivia’s replacement would be reassigned from the French foreign ministry?”
    â€œWe, the UN, did. France is a founding member and sits on the Security Council.”
    â€œAnd you had Dubois all lined up and ready to go. How convenient.”
    Hussein picked up a photograph of a young woman from his desk and stared at it. “The best memorial Olivia could have is for us to build on the fine work she did for us and carry on our mission. We plan to launch a scholarship in her name.”
    â€œWonderful. Why isn’t this in the news? I did not see anything in the New York Times .”
    â€œThankfully, there are some people working in this house who can keep confidences when necessary. We will release the information this afternoon.”
    Yael ignored his sarcasm. Something did not fit here. Beneath Hussein’s bluster she felt uncertainty. “When is Olivia’s funeral?”
    â€œNext week.”
    â€œI will see you there.”
    â€œUnfortunately not.”
    â€œOlivia worked for you for ten years, died here, and you aren’t going to her funeral?”
    â€œI will be at the summit on global warming and sea-change levels. As I said, the best memorial for her is to build on her achievements.”
    â€œAt a five-star hotel in Mauritius?”
    â€œWherever my work takes me.”
    Yael stared at him with disdain. “Rina is right. You are a pious hypocrite who cares about nothing except his own self-advancement.”
    Hussein’s eyes blazed with anger. “ Enough .”
    His voice turned icy. “It was a mistake to ever involve you in my family affairs.”
    The photograph of the young woman rattled against the desk as he placed it facedown. “I have consulted senior colleagues. The feeling in this house—”
    Yael closed her eyes and breathed deeply before she spoke but could barely control her temper. “The feeling in this house? Whose feelings? Yours? Or the P5’s? You know full well that I did not leak my memo to the New York Times . But I knew that sooner or later, something would leak out. I remember sitting in this office the day you asked me to do this job. You guaranteed that you would stand by me. ‘Whatever happens, I will protect you.’ That is what you said. You gave me your word. So why aren’t you protecting me?”
    Hussein looked at the wall of celebrity photographs as he spoke. “Yael, as of now you are on indefinite paid leave. An internal investigation has been launched into the circumstances in which your memo to me appeared on the front page of the New York Times . It will also be looking into claims that you engaged in inappropriate personal behavior with local staff while on mission in Kandahar. If it finds no grounds for action, we can discuss your future with the UN at a later date, when we are all calmer.”
    Kandahar. Her resistance collapsed. She stood up to leave.
    Hussein leaned forward, twirling a pencil in his hands. “Please wait. Yael, you know the details of many of the most sensitive events in which the UN has been