He slapped his forehead. “Wait a second. I’m sorry. I’m not really thinking straight. You know, concussion and all. I’m not here for Mousavi. I’m here for you, habibi.”

Kamal’s eyes grew big again, and now tears streamed down his face.

“That’s right. I have a little message from your crown prince. He says… You know, I actually think your crown prince is kind of a jerk. So on second thought, I don’t think I’ll deliver his little speech.” Turning to Azoulai, he said, “Let’s go.”

“That’s all?”

“I don’t have the energy for anything else.”

Nir snapped his fingers again. Turning to Saad, he said, “You’re the art lover. You’ve got those two original Marcos paintings, don’t you?” Nir spotted them, each on a different wall. “There they are. Beautiful. I’ve got to know, are you a Marilyn or a fruit bowl?”

Saad did his best to look dignified, but his eyes were glassy. Nir wondered if he wasn’t a little drunk.

“I prefer the fruit bowl.”

Nir turned to Dima. “I totally had him pegged as a Marilyn.” He whispered something to the Russian.

The big man walked over and picked up the chair Saad was sitting in, then carried it to where Fruit Bowl hung. He set the man down so he had a full view of the painting.

“I’ll give your compliments to the artist.”

There was a commotion at the door. The doctor came stumbling in, apparently pushed along by his Shayetet escort. He fell into a large decorative vase, which shattered beneath him. He landed sprawled out on the ground.

“Dr. Ghasemi, welcome to our little party,” Nir said. He walked toward the man. “Yaron, would you kindly help him up?”

The Kidon operative hoisted the small man up by his zip-tied wrists. The doctor cried out.

Nir stood in front of the man and looked him up and down. He was whimpering and had turned his face so that he could only see Nir out of the corner of his eye.

“Look at me,” Nir said. The man whimpered more.

“Look at me!” Nir took the man’s face in his hand, squeezing hard into his cheeks. He twisted his head so they were face-to-face. “I’ve got one thing to say to you, you evil, little slug of a man.”

Pulling his fist back, Nir punched forward. His fist stopped centimeters away from the man’s face. Nir leaned forward and whispered in the man’s ear, “Boom.”

“Zip up his legs and put him with the others,” Nir said as he strode away.

As soon as he cleared the door, he collapsed into a wall. Dima pushed past everyone and picked him up, then carried him.

“Put me down,” Nir kept insisting, but the Russian ignored him.