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asked Kefira.
    "You got it. It'd be hard to hide him in Israel, so we
cooperate with the Brits on this one. After all, he did give us critical info
that stopped a cell of Pakistani first-generation immigrant radicals in a
little known plot to suicide bomb the London Symphony on opening night last
year," said Sarah.
    "I've got the map up. I'm just changing to street view.
Your connection sure is fast. Ok. It's an ordinary looking place, but great for
surveillance," said Kefira.
    "Zak's already set up the system we'll be using. You
might want to send him an email and get a copy of our schedules," said
Sarah.
    "I'll do that."
    "Just click on the 'Z' on the favorites bar. It'll
connect you up to the secure mail server. It's dedicated to Zak only."
    The email came back with detailed satellite photos and a
meticulous schedule of action. To Kefira's eye, everything seemed more than
organized. She decided to catch some shuteye while they were on the motorway.
She spun around in her bucket seat and moved onto the fold out couch near the
backup surveillance set up. After what seemed like one minute of sleep,
familiar chords of music drifted into Kefira's consciousness.
    "Edinburgh, here we are," said Sarah.
    "Wow. I was out cold. Where'd you get that music? It's
among my favorites."
    "We aim to please."
    "No, really," added Kefira.
    "Zak did some research of your performances and thought
you might like to have a collection of your favorite music."
    "That's a bit overboard, don't you think?"
commented Kefira.
    "Jesus, girl, I've been trying to get him to do things
like that for me for years. What is that perfume you're using? It even stirs me
up."
    "Are you serious?"
    "Never more."
    "I lived in the Berber area of the desert in Libya. The
women there are dedicated to their men. They oil themselves down while they
wait for them," said Kefira.
    "No wonder Zak's interested. Don't tell me you oil
yourself with spices every day."
    "Not every day. Just when I need to focus – I meditate
while I do it. It centers me."
    "What are the spices?"
    "Cardamom, cinnamon and clove in warmed oil."
    "You're some piece of work, girl."
    The drive into Edinburgh was without incident. The two vans
established surveillance according to Zak's plan, and then the waiting began.
After a short while, Kefira and Sarah looked at each other.
    "What's that hissing sound?" asked Kefira.
    "I'm not sure," said Sarah.
    "Let's point one of those directional mics at the other
window in the bathroom," ordered Kefira.
    "I got it. He's having a shower."
    "Great. He's in. We should be able to move in just
after dark then. Your first stakeout will be a breeze. Usually it takes days
before it breaks."
    "Beginner's luck."
    Sarah was emailing Zak when her headphone filled with a loud
noise. It sounded as though a large object had slid down and then another
object had snapped. Zak used video conferencing software to communicate with
the vehicle containing Sarah and Kefira.
    "Aden and Sarah are going in. You and I, Kefira, will
follow along after five minutes. Sarah, get those lock picking fingers of yours
limbered up."
    Aden left the first van by the passenger side front door. A
car almost hit him as he exited. He had forgotten about left-side driving in
Great Britain. He cursed under his breath because Zak had parked facing
oncoming traffic. Aden then walked along Stenhouse West as it turned into a
dead-end street. Sarah exited the driver's side of her van onto the sidewalk.
She linked arms with Aden and they laughed like the old friends they were.
    "Tsk, tsk. I saw that car almost kill you there, in my
mirror. Wonderful tradecraft. How long have you been doing this?"
    "Left-side driving!"
    Together they crossed the no-through road and made their way
on the left side into number 15. The pastel brown stucco outer walls, framed
with stained softwood borders, gave way to an unusual cooking odor. It smelled
of lye soap and cabbage in the stairwell. Sarah took the stairs, two at a