She wiped the steam from her glasses as she stood in the security line, careful to keep her gaze directed away from others, especially the shameless women. The line was longer than usual. Of all mornings, she told herself. The one morning she could not be late to work.

Inshallah.

When Sania neared the security desk, the uniformed guard recognized her instantly—they both attended the same mosque, just fifteen minutes south of here. She flashed a badge. The guard nodded slightly and with a nonchalant hand waved her around the magnetic metal detector so that she need not pass through it. This had been arranged.

Now all she had to do was get to the fourth floor.

SINGAPORE

In the heavy rain and jammed traffic, it took Jack and Paul twice as long to make the short drive from their guesthouse to Dalfan HQ. The radio news reported that the big tropical storm in the Java Sea had stalled. Meteorologists had originally predicted it would head west, skirting far below Singapore but crashing into Jakarta. That stalled storm kept dumping rain on Singapore, however, and the streets were starting to flood, snarling traffic even further.

They arrived at Dalfan, Paul’s limp worse than ever. Everybody was anxious and distracted by the storm. Jack and Paul were waved through security with a perfunctory check. Paul required a bathroom stop on the way to their offices. Bai wasn’t in yet—that was a lucky break. Paul fell into his chair and jumped onto his desktop, Jack leaning over his shoulder. Paul entered his randomized passcode and logged in. For the next twenty minutes his chubby fingers sped across the keys, aided by the occasional mouse click. He opened file after file at blazing speed.

“You know your stuff,” Jack said, checking around to see if they were being watched through their glass wall. So far, so good.

“Well, that’s a great big chocolate banana.”

“What?”

“The file is gone.”

“The QC file you found before?”

“Yup. It’s flat-out gone.”

“You sure you’re looking in the right place?”

Paul turned his head. They were practically nose to nose. “Seriously?”

“Maybe somebody moved it.”

“More likely deleted it. I’ve already done a global search. It’s gone.”

“Couldn’t it just have been renamed?”

“I did a search for files in the folder. Key words, you name it. Nothing.”

Jack stood. “We need that file. It’s the last shred of evidence we have.” He paced around for a moment. “Wouldn’t Dalfan have some sort of a backup system? To protect against data loss?”

“Yeah, sure. Good idea. Gimme a few minutes.” Paul tapped keys furiously.

Jack decided to do some nosing around himself. He crossed over to his office and logged on to his computer and did some searching on his own. After twenty minutes, he gave up. He couldn’t find anything. He returned to Paul’s office.