Lilith. Cold as the moon and equally remote. It was difficult enough speaking with Lilith on the phone, seeing her on the computer made Violin instantly feel like a naughty ten-year-old again.

“Hello, Mother,” said Violin, her voice immediately small and contrite.

“Don’t ‘Mother’ me. Answer the question, girl.”

“No, Mother. Ledger went into the wind after leaving his hotel, though I think I know where he is.”

One eyebrow arched high on Lilith’s forehead. “You ‘think’?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Why are you wasting time talking to me instead of verifying his location?”

“Because there is a Sabbatarian strike team positioned near—”

“Did I ask for an excuse as to why you can’t accomplish a simple task?”

Lilith’s tone was subzero. Colder even than usual.

“No, Mother, I—”

“And are you about to apologize instead of taking appropriate and immediate action? Is that the end result of everything I’ve taught you?”

“No, Mother, it’s just—”

“Do I need to send a trainee instead? Someone who understands how to follow a simple order?”

Violin took a deep, steadying breath. It was that or put her fist through the monitor’s screen.

“No, Mother, but—”

“Then follow your orders,” barked Lilith. “Rasouli gave Ledger a flash drive with information on where as many as seven nuclear bombs have been hidden. Four, at least, are in the Middle East. Find Ledger and get that drive. Is that order simple enough for you?”

“My God! Wait—how do you know what Rasouli gave—?”

“How do you think?” snapped her mother. “I used common sense and asked the right question of the right person.”

Ah, so that’s it, thought Violin. Mother spoke with St. Germaine.

No wonder she’s so angry. On a secret level, Violin was pleased to see her mother discomfited.

“Mother, I’m trying to understand why the Order sent a knight after Ledger. How could they have known about the flash drive?”

“I … don’t know,” said Lilith, her anger dropping down several notches. “That’s a good question, too.”

“On the other hand, this seems to confirm one of my theories—that Rasouli is not planning on accepting the role of Murshid.”

But the screen had already gone dark.

Violin clenched her teeth. She considered taking the computer outside and backing her car over it a few times. It might make her feel good. Instead, she turned off the engine and got out of the car.

She was dressed in a traditional Iranian chador and headscarf, which made her shapeless and faceless. The eye makeup she had applied would fool anyone. She took a net-covered cloth grocery sack from the back seat and began walking slowly across the street. Not directly toward the white vans, but at an angle so that she would have to pass them. They appeared deserted.