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“This all you got? Twelve bucks? No credit cards?”
    Kenan shook his head.
    Angry, the thief threw the wallet into the lake. Then he pointed his gun at Kenan’s chest.
    “There is no God but God,” muttered Kenan, determined to make his last act on earth one of devotion.
    “Jackass,” said the robber. He stuffed the gun into his pocket. “You follow me, I’ll kill your white ass.”
    Kenan watched silently as the man walked away. Rage boiled inside him. He took one tentative step, but as he did the man looked over his shoulder and Kenan’s resolve wilted. He heard the man laugh as he walked away.
    Yes, laugh, thought Kenan as tears streamed from his eyes. Let all the Devil People laugh. Soon, they’d see what the Followers of God were capable of.

CHAPTER 12
     
    TOMMY KARR SLIPPED his thumb behind the plastic backing of the tracking device, pushing off the protective cover to reveal the stickum. He reached his hand in under the air deflector at the rear of the Toyota SUV, sticking the tracker against the plastic surface. As he turned around, a police car drove up to the entrance ramp to the hospital and stopped near the door.
    “Looks like the police have finally taken an interest in our friend,” said Karr, walking back to the rental car, which was parked strategically near the driveway on the street. “How are Dean and Lia doing?”
    “They’re okay,” said Rockman. “Asad should be on his way out. It would be better if the police didn’t stop him.”
    “Sorry, Rockman. There’s no little old ladies to rob, so I guess I can’t create a diversion.”
    Karr was just opening the door to the car when an SUV similar to the one he’d just attached the homing device to drove up toward the emergency room.
    “It’s the other bodyguard vehicle,” said Rockman, who was watching via a video “bug” on the grille of the rental.
    Karr turned abruptly and started up the drive. As he did, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brown envelope. Gently pressing the sides together, he shuffled out a second tracking device. It looked like a large button, with a gray ring around a brown center.
    “Tommy, where are you going?” asked Rockman.
    Karr folded his arms at his chest, holding the tracker in his right fist. The SUV had stopped across from the one he’d just tagged; two men jumped out and went inside. Karr walked around to the driver’s side and knocked on the window.
    “’Scuse me,” said Karr. He put his right hand on top of the SUV, slipping the tracking device under the roof rack. “I’m a little lost and I was looking for Sultanahmet Square?”
    The man answered by aiming a Beretta at his face.
    “Whoa—probably not around here, huh?” Karr took a couple of steps backwards, then trotted sideways down the driveway. He didn’t figure that the bodyguard would be stupid enough to shoot him if he didn’t have to—but you never could tell. Syrians weren’t noted for common sense.
    “What are you doing?” said Rockman.
    “Just playing the ugly American,” said Karr, ducking around the corner. They’d parked two other cars nearby, and Karr decided to walk to the red Volkswagen on the nearby side street, making it less likely that the driver would spot him. Between the tracking devices and the bug implant, which could be tracked using triangulation, it was unnecessary for him to stay very close to Asad as he trailed the terrorist to his lair.
    “Tommy, Red Lion’s coming out. Get ready to follow him.”
    “Ya think?” laughed Karr, getting into the car.

CHAPTER 13
     
    THE PAIN CAME in waves, shaking Asad bin Taysr’s head from the inside, as if his brain were pounding against his skull, trying to escape. The doctor had said something about pain killers, and while Asad wouldn’t ordinarily trust an Egyptian—they were as a rule decadent, corrupted by their proximity to the Jews—the man had seemed to know what he was talking about, accurately describing how the pain would