Paul took out a small walkie-talkie. “Bradley, could you please bring Miss Sawyer?”

All three turned toward the doorway. Grace had the best view of Nasser Ali Jahed. She could see his profile, the anxious look in his eyes while he waited.

The woman who appeared in the doorway looked to be somewhere in her mid- to possibly late twenties and wore a thick white terry cloth bathrobe. She was barefoot, and her long and unbelievably thick black hair spilled over her shoulders. She had piercing blue eyes, fine cheekbones, and a prominent jawline—a beautiful and exquisite woman, no question, but definitely a dime a dozen in LA. Yet Mr. Jahed stared at her, his mouth agape, as though an angel had suddenly manifested in human form before him.

“My God,” he muttered.

Even the man named Chauncey seemed awestruck.

Paul said, “As you can see, my product has erased a good ten to fifteen years from her face. The skin is tight and glowing, not a wrinkle anywhere. Her perspiration is rather high, because of increased metabolism, but that will disappear over the next day or two. Please come in, Miss Sawyer.”

She did, and stopped only a couple of feet away from Mr. Jahed, who was still stunned by her appearance. She’s been given carrier blood, Grace thought, watching as the woman slipped out of her bathrobe.

Miss Sawyer wore a black bikini that showed her generous curves. Her olive skin was flawless. No part of her body sagged—everything looked tight, her muscles firm, as though she was in peak physical fitness. She had barely any body fat on her.

The woman looked only at Mr. Jahed. She stepped closer and, placing her hands flat against his chest, said, “Say something, Nasser.”

“You look beautiful.” Then his gaze cut to Paul and, blinking, he said, “This is remarkable. Remarkable.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“I’m more than pleased.” Mr. Jahed turned his attention back to the woman. “You look as beautiful as the day I met you.”

“I know you’re ready to leave,” Paul said, “but I have one small favor to ask.” He turned to Grace. It sent her heart tripping. “Please stand up so Mr. Jahed can take a good look at you.”

Grace didn’t stand up.

“She’s beautiful, as you can see, but also stubborn,” Paul said. “Which is why I’m wondering if you could take her off my hands, give her to one of your associates back in Tehran, put her to work in one of your . . . pleasure centers. My only condition is that I take a finger or two.”

Fear exploded in Grace’s heart.

The woman, Miss Sawyer, touched Mr. Jahed’s arm. “Do you still desire me?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” His voice was dry. “More than ever.”

“Show me.”

She began to untie her bikini top.

* * *

The streetlights in Ojai were turned off, but in the Rover’s high beams Ellie saw people hosing down roofs and the vegetation around their homes. She saw sprinklers running and she spotted a handful of people armed with flashlights as they packed suitcases and other belongings into their cars.