Nicole turned up the volume on the monitor connected to Nir’s passive tracker. Earlier, she’d opened access to a U.S. GPS satellite, and Lahav had programmed it to ping the sliver of metal for one quarter of a second every half hour. She wanted to make sure she heard it when it did.

“Any movement with Mousavi?” she called out.

“Nothing,” Dafna said. “His phone hasn’t moved, and the asset outside his house says he’s still there.”

“Good. And Salim is still moored off Mumbai?”

Liora answered. “His yacht is there, and his phone is there. As soon as you get us that Chinese satellite, we’ll confirm he’s there too.”

“Working on it.”

Oh, Nir, what is happening to you right now? I don’t even know if you’re alive.

Monitoring the team’s activities from the conference table were Efraim Cohen and Deputy Director Asher Porush. The two were holding a quiet, animated conversation.

“Nicole, come join us,” Porush suddenly called. “We need you.”

Her fingers flew rapidly over the keyboard, finishing a line of code. That satellite was still eluding her, but she walked over and took a place across the table from the two.

“Give me your assessment so far,” Porush said.

“Everything has gone according to plan. We seeded the information of Nir’s mission and arrival five days ago, and it appears Kamal took the bait.”

“Appears?”

“His phone is pinging at the same location Nir’s tracker is—was. That’s strong evidence. However, we don’t have a visual, and the ramsad will not let us act without visual identification. Otherwise, we would have already taken him down right in Doha.”

Cohen added, “And if we did raid Nir’s location and Kamal was not there, the whole plan would be busted.”

“Got it. So let’s assume he is there. You’re counting on him moving Nir to Saad Salim’s yacht now that his location is compromised.”

Nicole answered. “Again, I wouldn’t put it that way. Counting on is too strong a phrase. Hoping would be better. But the Cafala Bahr does seem to be the gathering place for promoting their shared interests.” She noticed the older man’s face and bald head were reddening.

“If you were a gambler, where would you put the odds?” he said.

“I’d say 60–40 it’s the yacht. We’re watching General Arash Mousavi of the IRGC right now. If we see him traveling to the boat, we’ll know we’ve got them. He’s the man Kamal is pursuing right now because of his access to the Houthis.”

Porush gave her a hard look. “Those are not good odds when so many lives are at stake.”

“They are the best I can give.” She gave him a hard look back. “And trust me, I understand the lives at stake.”