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niece has gone into labor.” He busied himself with the kettle. “Now tell me what has happened.”
    Abu held the offered cup of tea between his hands. “Our quarry, Dr. Molly’s husband, the Bedouin Rashid, arrived off the plane from Hazar and was apprehended. We had two sweepers working close enough to the action. He was seen walking away pursued by two individuals, who turned out to be some kind of government officials. This was confirmed by one of our brothers working on a passport desk nearby. He said they were called Dillon and Salter. Another of our people saw them get into an Aston car with Rashid and drive away.”
    “What then?”

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    “Nothing, except that our man got the license number.”
    “How do you know all this?”
    “My control called me at the hospital to see what the situation was with the wife. Obviously, the police will contact her.” He shook his head.
    “I like Dr. Molly. She’s a good woman. Why does she have to be one of them?”
    Instead of offering an explanation, his uncle said, “Do you weaken in your resolve?”
    “Not at all, not before Allah.” Abu shrugged. “I’m going to bed. She has the morning free, so it will be difficult to check the house then.
    We’ll see.”
    His uncle embraced him. “You are a very good boy. Sleep well.”
    T H E U N C L E F O U N D that with age, he slept lightly and he rested on the couch by the fire. He dozed, contemplating the current situation and how lucky he was with the strengthening faith of age, to have such power from Allah. The phone rang.
    “Ah, so you are still awake, Ali my brother.”
    “What can I do for you?”
    “Abu has done well to involve himself with the Rashid woman. Tell him to take the day off from the hospital tomorrow and observe her. One of my agents at Heathrow managed to follow Caspar Rashid to a place in Holland Park. There was a lot of security there.”
    The man speaking was Professor Dreq Khan, whose field was Com-parative Religion. He was a highly regarded academic in many countries, but especially in London, where he was on many government and in-terfaith committees. His great secret was his fateful meeting with Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan years before, and the changes in his thinking that had led him to found the Army of God.
    “We’ll find out what we can, but if I’m right, I think it would be a waste of time trying to get in. My computer assistants at the university have come up with an owner for the car, who turns out to have been a 34

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    rather famous criminal in his day, named Harry Salter. He is incredibly rich, but an informant tells me he still gets up to his old tricks. You know what he tells people? Smuggling cigarettes pays the same as heroin, but only gets you six months if caught.”
    “London is truly an amazing place.”
    “He has a nephew named Billy Salter, but the computer listing shows nothing for him. I’ll put the word out, though. Perhaps the authorities have wiped his records. In any event, do what you can, and God be with you.”
    Ali Hassim sighed, folded his hands and lay back.
    A N H O U R O R S O E A R L I E R , Billy had driven up to the Dark Man. He knew the front door would be locked, so he went through the side door and passed through to the lounge bar, and found Harry sitting by the fire being served coffee by Ruby. They both looked up and she managed to smile, for she had realized Billy might prove to be her greatest obsta-cle, but Ruby was Ruby and undeniably pretty.
    “You were stupid to put up with it, Ruby. He was always a toad and about as appetizing as a corpse. Now, I’m about to break some bad news to my good old uncle Harry. You might as well hear it, too, because since you’ve become a member of the team and live here, you’d wriggle it out of any man wearing well-cut trousers anyway.”
    “Do I take that as a compliment?” Ruby asked.
    “Absolutely. Now shut up.” He turned to Harry.