If Alicia Clayton had proof of something so awe-inspiring as her father’s technology, surely she would be acting on it. Surely she would be trumpeting it to the world.

The longer the silence, the more likely that she and her hireling—her “merc,” as Baker called him—had found nothing in the house.

Kemel had spent the day fasting, praying that it was so. And then, wonderful news. A call from Gordon Haffner saying he had heard from the Clayton woman’s attorney and the sale of the house was proceeding.

Kemel had been jubilant. Now he could return to Riyadh and help extricate Ghali from the criminal charges against him.

But then suspicion had reared its head like a desert rat. What if her desire to proceed with the sale was a ruse, a ploy to dupe him into dropping his guard? Kemel had checked with Baker, who had been busy disposing of the bodies of his men, and instructed him to use the transponder in the Clayton woman’s handbag to track her movements. So far she had not left her workplace.

Perhaps she truly meant to sell the house after all. Ten million dollars was, after all, ten mill—

The phone rang. Kemel answered it and recognized Thomas Clayton’s voice, although it sounded more nasal than usual.

“They were here!” he said. “They know!”

Fear sank its cold talons into Kemel’s shoulders. “Who? Who knows?”

“Alicia and her bully boy. He broke my goddamn nose!”

“You said, ‘they know.’ What do they know?”

“Everything! More than we do!”

The room spun. Everything! Oh, no. This could not be. Allah, please—

“The transmitter?”

“No. I don’t think they have that. At least not yet. But I’ve got a bad feeling they may know a way to find it. What do we do?”

Kemel closed his eyes and reached for calmness, found the hem of its thobe, and clutched it.

“I will tell you soon.”

He hung up and gave Baker a quick summary, omitting, as usual, the nature of what they sought.

“Simple enough,” the mercenary said. “We go get the girl and make her tell us. And believe me—let me at her, and she’ll talk.”

Kemel closed his eyes again. This man was such an idiot.

“What if she doesn’t know how to find what we seek?” he said softly. “That will surely change her mind about selling the house. And what if her hireling is there and disables what few men you have left? What if, in your infinite clumsiness, you kill her before you learn what we need to know?”

“Hey, listen. I—”

“No. You will not touch her. But you will use the transponder to track her. If she makes any move to leave the city, you will inform me and together we will follow her. Together. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, but—”

“IS… THAT… CLEAR?” Kemel shouted the words.

“Clear,” Baker said.