Chapter 44
ROME, ITALY
ARE you ready, Ambassador?”
Mariam Al-Hamad looked at the reflection staring back at her in the mirror. A woman’s appearance was always important, but this went doubly so when that woman represented a sovereign nation. Perhaps triply so when that nation was an Arab state and she its first female ambassador.
Mariam felt as if her feet were forever treading a tightrope.
She needed to appear feminine, but not overly so.
Attractive but still conservative. Approachable, but with the gravitas her office demanded.
Her male counterparts had no such concerns, but that was fine.
The Middle East might still be a man’s world, but women like her were hard at work carving out their own space.
Mariam brushed a hint more of blush onto her cheeks and studied the result.
Now that she was in her forties, applying makeup took more time.
Her dark eyes and long lashes were still captivating, but a web of fine wrinkles had begun to appear in the corners of her eyes, and most infuriatingly, above her nose.
Her skin still glowed with health, but her youth, like the midnight black of her hair, was beginning to fade.
No matter.
A little graying at the temples could be an asset for a diplomat. Human beings were hardwired to associate age with wisdom. When she was younger, Mariam often dressed in outfits that downplayed her youth. Now she could purge the matronly outfits from her wardrobe.
Age did have some benefits.
“I’m ready, Yousef. Lead the way.”
Yousef, her long-suffering aide, rolled his eyes.
Though she was an ambassador and he a relatively junior foreign service officer, her rank did not matter as much as her sex when visiting the more-conservative Gulf states.
On more than one occasion, she’d followed her assistant the culturally expected five paces a woman must walk behind a man when she was presented at formal events in Saudi Arabia.
That was fine.
Away from the public eye, she was not afraid to make clear that she, not Yousef, spoke for the emir of Kuwait.
As for what happened in the national spotlight, Mariam was willing to settle for small victories, like the fact that her aide was male, not female.
Whether incremental or sweeping, change was still coming even to the lands ruled by the House of Saud.
“Very good, Madam Ambassador. Khaled was hoping to get a word with you on the drive over…”
Mariam sighed as she followed Yousef into the hotel’s elevator. “I’m always happy to speak with my head of security.”
Yousef made a face as he punched the button for the lobby. “Yes, well, you don’t always seem to—”
“I’m always happy to speak with my head of security when he’s not trying to frighten me into canceling public appearances.”
Mariam studied her aide in the elevator’s mirror.
Yousef had two qualities that had instantly endeared him to her: he was very good at his job, and he wasn’t afraid to let her know when he thought she was being unreasonable.
Her gender tended to provoke one of two reactions in many of her male counterparts at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
Either they were overly deferential, as if she were fine china that would shatter at the first word of disagreement, or they listened to her as they might a particularly intelligent child, with an eye toward patting her on the head and then shooing her out of the room so that the adults could make a decision.
Whether it was because of his relative youth or just the content of his character, Yousef had yet to fall into either trap. Instead, their relationship was professional.
For the most part.
If she were being honest, Mariam would have to admit that she had to resist the urge to mother her aide from time to time. He was a fine young man, and she had no sons of her own.
But Yousef was not perfect.
When he felt especially passionate about a topic, the tips of his ears would flush red.
As they were now.
Reaching past her aide, Mariam thumbed the hold button.
The elevator car shuddered to a halt.
“For the next ten seconds, it’s just you and me,” Mariam said, still pressing the button. “Those red ears mean you have something to say, so spit it out.”
Though her tone implied that her words were not a suggestion, Mariam still expected an answering smile from her aide.
Yousef knew about his tell even though he seemed powerless to address it.
She took care to never talk with him this way in public and in turn he tolerated her maternal chiding.
But when he turned to face her, it wasn’t amusement she saw on his face.
It was fear.
“This isn’t like the usuals,” Yousef said. “The threat is specific, and it was delivered to Arabic media. Al Masriya is even talking about it.”
Mariam felt her smile fade.
As a female serving in a traditionally male role, she was often the target of ire from the region’s conservative figures.
Though the heads of government refrained from talking about her directly, their state-sponsored news networks could usually be counted on to convey the message on their behalf.
Over the years, she’d learned to separate the day-to-day noise from the threats she should take seriously.
Arabic media tended to be a reliable filter.
If the commentators on Al Masriya, the Egyptian state television channel, were discussing a threat to her life, it had probably been voiced by a reputable terrorist organization.
“What did the threat say?” Mariam said.
Yousef frowned. “That you’re a disgrace to womanhood and an affront to Allah—”
“Yes, yes,” Mariam said, waving her hand to hurry him along, “we get that all the time. What is the part that has you worried?”
“They mentioned this event specifically. The threat said that Allah would be glorified today and your stain on Islam purged.”
Mariam froze as she digested the new information. Then she released the hold button and the elevator car shuddered back to life. “I understand why you’re concerned. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
“Then you’ll listen to Khaled?”
The hope mixed with concern on Yousef’s face touched her deeply. She rummaged through her purse for a breath mint to give her time to regain her composure. “I’ll be happy to take any suggestions from my chief of security under advisement, but I’m not canceling. I have a job to do. So does Khaled.”
Yousef looked as if he had more to say, but a ding from the elevator ended the discussion. The doors slid open, revealing the lobby and the anxious face of her chief of security. Squaring her shoulders, Mariam smiled at Khaled and strode across the tile toward the revolving door.
She represented the State of Kuwait and would behave accordingly.