They walked down a corridor lined with employee lockers, a drinking fountain, and a couple of restroom doors.
"I didn't think the friendship was close enough to allow Syrian law enforcement to use Israel's national airline," said Petra.
"I lied about being with Syrian law enforcement," he said.
"And did they lie out front about being El Al?"
He palmed open an unmarked door, but when she made as if to follow him through it, he shook his head. "No no, first you must place the palm of your hand..."
She complied, but wondered how they could possibly have her palm print and sweat signature here in Syria.
No. They didn't, of course. They were getting them right now, so that wherever else she went, she would be recognized by their computer security systems.
The door led to a stairway that went down.
And farther down, and farther yet, until they had to be well underground.
"I don't think this complies with international handicapped access regulations," said Petra.
"What the regulators don't see won't hurt us," said the man.
"A theory that has gotten so many people into so much trouble," said Petra.
They came to an underground tunnel, where a small electric car was waiting for them. No driver. Apparently her companion was going to drive.
Not so. He got into the backseat beside her, and the car took off by itself.
"Let me guess," said Petra. "You don't take most of your VIPs through the El Al ticket counter."
"There are other ways to get to this little street," said the man. "But the people looking for you would not have staked out El Al."
"You'd be surprised at how often my enemy is two steps ahead."
"But what if your friends are three steps ahead?" Then he laughed as if it had been a joke, and not a boast.
"We're alone in a car," said Petra. "Let's have some names now."
"I am Ivan Lankowski," he said.
She laughed in spite of herself. But when he did not smile, she stopped. "I'm sorry," she said. "You don't look Russian, and this is Damascus."
"My paternal grandfather was ethnic Russian, my grandmother was ethnic Kazakh, both were Muslims. My mother's parents are still living, thanks be to Allah, and they are both Jordanian."
"And you never changed the name?"
"It is the heart that makes the Muslim. The heart and the life. My name contains part of my genealogy. Since Allah willed me to be born in this family, who am I to try to deny his gift?"
"Ivan Lankowski," said Petra. "The name I'd like to hear is the name of the one who sent you."
"One's superior officer is never named. It is a basic rule of security."
Petra sighed. "I suppose this proves I'm not in Kansas anymore."
"I don't believe," said Lankowski, "that you have ever been in Kansas, Mrs. Delphiki."
"It was a reference to--"
"I have seen The Wizard of Oz," said Lankowski. "I am, after all, an educated man. And...I have been in Kansas."