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By the time the police found them, this could be long over. Either he shook their attackers, and shook them fast, or one of their bullets would find its aim and end the chase.
    He swore under his breath again. More stress was the last thing Julia needed in her condition. Not that he knew anything about her condition. But he would learn. For Aziz’s child. If —Damn, but the uncertainty drove him crazy. He wasn’t a patient man on his best day.
    When they got out of here, he was going to get her to agree to stay in the country, then lock her up safely in his palace and not let her go until the baby was born. Maybe he would move to Aziz’s place for the next six months. Living under the same roof with Julia might be more than he could handle. Especially if she kept sneaking into his bedroom. He was concerned about that as much as he wished for it.
    “Hang on.”
    He was a good driver and put all his skills to use. For a moment or two, it seemed he might be able to put enough distance between his car and the assassins behind them.
    Then a bicyclist, of all things, pulled in front of him, oblivious to danger. And he swerved, running the car up the cement rails of the shoulder, the right two tires leaving the ground. If they were to flip…He grabbed the steering wheel and maneuvered as best he could. He had to get the car back on the road. After an endless moment, he did manage.
    “Are you all right?” He didn’t dare take his eye off the road to look at Julia.
    “I’m not all right. People are trying to kill me!” She sounded shaken. “What is it with everyone? Is everybody completely nuts around here? What are they thinking? Just go!”
    He did, and for a moment was sure that they would make it. But the second bullet was more accurate than the first. The force of it slamming into his flesh smacked him against the steering wheel.
    They were out in the open. The bullets kept coming. He had a woman and an unborn child to protect. Pain spread through him. He’d been hit. He couldn’t tell how badly, and it was information he needed. All their lives depended on it.

Chapter Three
    All his life he wanted to be a holy man. He had even changed his name to Mustafa, which meant chosen. And he indeed knew that Allah had chosen him when the only god trusted this most important task to him.
    Old evil had returned into this world—old evil that offended the faith of his people and threatened their souls. He had sworn to destroy it and all who had come in contact with it, all who had been contaminated.
    And the One God had been gracious and had given him followers, a tight sect of righteousness and light. They were all happy to die for the cause.
    But so far, their work had been blessed and it had been Aziz Abdullah who had died. Mustafa smiled as he looked out over his garden. That first task had been done right. But they had much longer to go it seemed.
    The evil objects had not been recovered. The world and his faith had not yet been saved. The idols had been passed on and contaminated yet another man: Karim Abdullah. But Karim, perhaps in his ignorance or already too tight in the grasp of the evil, did not realize that he needed to be purified.
    It couldn’t be helped. Mustafa stroked his beard and closed his eyes against the strengthening sun. His free hand held his cell phone. The call would come soon. Karim, the guardian of evil, would be dead.
    Then, without a powerful guardian, the idols would be found. Yes. He smiled into the sun. He and his faithful followers would most certainly triumph.
     
    “H OLD ON TO THE steering wheel,” Karim said, pressing a hand to his wound, then pulling it away and looking at it, probably checking how badly he was bleeding.
    Pretty badly. Then again, when it came to gunshot wounds, she wasn’t sure there was such a thing as “good.”
    “The steering wheel,” he said more urgently.
    Julia stared at him. Was he crazy? Apparently, because he was letting go already, just expecting her