Malik was standing with his back to her at the sliding glass door, looking out, apparently lost in thought. It had to be Malik, even though his black hair had gone to salt-and-pepper.

“Brother?”

He turned. “Little Sister!”

He rushed to her, and they held each other close. Suddenly, she was crying.

So was he.

“When I doubt that God is merciful, let me remember this moment,” Malik said fervently. “Ah, Amira!”

She pushed him away. “But wait, but wait. Why did you drag me here like this? You scared me to death! Until ten minutes ago, I thought Ali had caught me.”

“I had a reason—ten minutes ago, you say?” “Yes. Until I recognized Jabr, I thought—”

“Well, that’s not right. You were supposed to be told while you were on the way, in the air.”

“I wasn’t told anything. I was asleep most of the time. They gave me some sort of sedative, I think.”

Malik frowned. “Ryan was supposed to tell you. Maybe I should have given more specific orders. These guys love to act like they’re in the movies. On the other hand, I didn’t want him to tell you right away. I meant to show you some- thing—to teach you a lesson.”

“You mean you terrorized me on purpose? I should slap you, Brother.” She half meant it.

“The lesson,” he said seriously, “is that if I can do this so easily, others can, too.”

She thought it over. “And exactly how did you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy. Your letter—sending it from Toronto was a master stroke. So many Arab expatriates end up there. We spent months, years combing Canada—and finding nothing, of course. Then one day, Ryan—he’s a private detective, in case you haven’t guessed—said maybe we should try the United States. I told him, ‘Canada’s been a silver mine for you. Now you want a gold mine, too.’ Maybe that’s why he gave you a hard time. He made a fortune looking for you. Once you were found …” Malik laughed a little ruefully.

“But how did he find me?”