She shook her head, then she walked over to Neal, tucking the gun into the back of her pants as she came, and said, “We have much to do, and I should leave here soon, before whoever they are start to think it suspicious that an electrician has stayed so long. In fact, the first thing we are going to need to do is arrange a way in and out of here that will allow us to come and go without them knowing. I can take care of that, and while I am at it, there are some other things we are going to need, all of which will require money. So, let’s talk about ways to channel funds.”

Seeing his expression at the mention of funds, she chuckled and said, “OK, first let’s talk about some ways we can discreetly generate them.”

* * *

Across the world, in a cold cave in the northern mountains of Pakistan, Agent Shahim Al Khazar sits and prays. In many ways his prayers are more genuine, and certainly more immediately effective than those of his fanatical colleagues. As he bows forward, dipping his forehead to the soil, his machine mind relays, in real-time, his thoughts and actions to his four godlike cohorts soaring far above.

At the entrance to his cave, a nervous cleric awaits. The fighter has gained a fierce reputation in the four months he has been with the Liberation Army, proving as deadly to any of the other freedom fighters who stood in his way as he has to the infidels.

Twice he had begged forgiveness from the army’s leaders for fighting and killing a rival Islamic brother, though in both cases it had been clear to all that the fights had been started by the other man. That said, few would fight him again, as both of his victims had received crushing injuries, one man’s neck being snapped clean to one side by a kick from the deadly fighter’s foot.

But now the junior cleric had been dispatched to summon the fighter to an audience with the clan’s chief cleric and general, and the poor messenger was not sure who he feared more.

Respecting the prayer time of the kneeling fighter as much out of fear as religious doctrine, the junior cleric stood and waited until Shahim eventually opened his eyes.

“Honored soldier of the cause, you are summoned to an audience with Cleric Mashadi Amar immediately.” said the junior cleric, with as much authority as he could muster.

“Why did you not tell me sooner?” said the brusque man, “You have been standing there for nearly five minutes.”

The cleric could not bring himself to respond, his shrug turning into an involuntary shake as the large, powerful man propelled himself straight from kneeling to a brisk run, pushing bodily past the cleric and out of the small, carved cave that was his home.