If anything, there were even more cameras watching the conveyors than there had been in passport control. Fortunately, he had carried on his luggage and was able to pass through quickly with his head down. Not that it mattered at this point, but old habits died hard.

The rental of his car went smoothly, and he slid behind the wheel of what passed for a low-profile vehicle in the Kingdom—a new Porsche Cayenne. He pulled out of the parking garage and used the built-in GPS to navigate to an apartment he’d rented on Airbnb. The Saudi computers would already know where he was staying and what car Enterprise had assigned him, so no point in trying to hide. With precisely zero help from the Agency, his best bet was to just act in as predictable a manner as possible. Of course, the General Intelligence Directorate would figure out who he was eventually. The trick would be to make sure he was long gone before that particular light dawned.

Rapp turned on the radio and listened to a man sing in Arabic about unrequited love. He knew both the artist and the song well. Perfect language skills weren’t enough—he spent an enormous amount of time keeping up with the Middle East’s popular culture. Music, television, politics. It was a mash-up of a hundred different things that made passing as a native possible.

He rolled down the window and let the warm night air flow through his car. The GPS continued to call out turns, allowing him to focus on his rearview mirror and the light traffic surrounding him. Again, though, it was mostly just habit. With the cameras set up along the highway and modern drones, old-school tails were becoming a thing of the past. Roughly the equivalent of exchanging a suitcase full of cash for a suitcase full of documents on a lonely Siberian bridge.

He finally arrived in a neighborhood lined with low-rise apartment buildings—utilitarian white squares with tiny balconies and decent-sized windows. The passcode the landlord had given him worked and he descended into an underground parking area. Cameras were once again ubiquitous, likely installed by the property owner but undoubtedly also uploading to the government.

Rapp passed the numbered space he’d been assigned, driving hesitantly and leaning into the windshield. Airbnb guests getting confused about where to park wouldn’t be all that uncommon and he used that fact to take a full tour of the parking area. The car owned by Muhammad Singh was near the southeast corner and he made note of the location before circling back to his space. One small duffle was all he had with him and he pulled it from the backseat before locking the car and taking an elevator to his apartment.