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inside where Afaf had his things in a bundle on the bed.
    “I don’t need any of that,” he told her. “If it’s worth selling, sell it. If not, throw it away. I don’t care.”
    “Where will you go, Master?”
    “They found me a place. I will leave a guard here.”
    “God will protect me.”
    “Yes…. Well, in case He doesn’t, there’ll be a man outside.”
    He gazed into the old woman’s eyes for a moment. He felt protective of her, even affectionate, and he couldn’t imagine where those feelings came from. “Tell Salima to stay out of my way. If I find her, I will kill her.”
    With head bowed, Afaf walked with him to the curtained doorway.
    “You know where to find Diab,” Faisal said.
    She nodded and gave him a slight bow. “ Allah ma’aki ,” she said. “May God be with you.”
    He patted her hand and thanked her for having taken him in.
    Outside sitting in a black Toyota he told Diab to keep an eye on her. “Jaradat does not want anyone to know about our meeting. He may think Afaf knows. He may try to silence her.”
    “I will put a man here,” Diab said. When they were moving into the city, followed by a second car carrying the men, he asked, “So what do we do with Bashir Yassin?”
    “He still lives at the home of Umm Sayid?”
    “You have a good memory, Faisal. I’ll find out.”
    “Treat him the way I was treated. Bring him to our new place. Frighten him immediately.”
    Diab laughed and patted his big hand on Faisal’s knee. “Ah, Faisal, it’s good to be back in action. This assignment comes just in time! Jaradat will pay us a fortune for doing this!
    “The good times are back, Faisal! The feasts! The women! The joys of the flesh! Allah’hu Akbah!”

Chapter Three
     
    Colonel Jaradat, smiling in triumph, gazed quietly at the small man sitting across from him. Esmat Bindari, an official at Cairo International and a close friend for many years, also in a white shirt and linen suit, seemed equally pleased.
    “So, apparently you have decided to take advantage of that bit of information.”
    Jaradat shrugged. “Why not? If it produces nothing, we will have lost nothing. If it succeeds, our fingerprints will not be found on it.”
    “I can’t wait to announce this to the Executive Council,” Esmat said. “By the way, when is the meeting?”
    “Not for weeks. And, until everything is in place, we announce nothing … not a word, Esmat.”
    Esmat nodded. “Of course.” Chastened, he changed the subject. “Is this Faisal Ibrahim as near death as they say?”
    “He doesn’t look well, but who knows? It doesn’t matter. If he accuses me, who will believe him? You could accuse me, and who would believe you,” he said, laughing, reaching across the table, tapping Esmat’s hand, assuring him that he was only teasing.
    A servant came into the room and placed a small bowl of fruit in front of the guest, Esmat, another in front of the colonel, blessing the room with the fragrance of pears. Tasseled toothpicks stuck out of each juicy piece.
    “Just the thing,” Esmat said, lifting a cube of pineapple, inspecting it. “The enzymes aid digestion,” popping the fruit into his mouth.
    “You’re sure we have three weeks?” the Colonel asked.
    “At least. Our man in Jordan said they don’t expect those new planes until the end of next month. And that extends Bashir Yassin’s leave of absence for at least six weeks. No one has reason to miss him. They’ll want him in Amman for a few days before the planes arrive. He’ll have to set things up, maybe reacquaint himself with the literature. But between now and then, he’s at our mercy, so to speak,” laughing, sucking the juice of the pear.
    “And how will he explain his injuries?”
    “Who’s to notice?”
    “The police. I’m told even Yousef Qantara is looking for him.”
    “That’s only because of Aziz’s daughter. It’s routine. Bashir means nothing to the muccabarat . And if Yousef should notice bruises on the