THE HOODED FALCON stirred restlessly on its perch as if dreaming of the sky. Abdul Sa’ad was asleep, his breathing deep and regular. Kelly was wide awake, her eyes staring into the darkness, her hand clenched around the letter-opener, trying to decide what to do.

This time there would be no going back, she thought. But should she kill Abdul Sa’ad and then try to escape, or just flee while she had the chance?

In three days they would assassinate the king and the whole country would erupt. She had to warn someone. She thought of Bandar, his piggy eye roving over her body, and shuddered. She had to get away. But what about Abdul Sa’ad? If she killed him the conspiracy might collapse. And she would have her revenge, she thought grimly.

But what if she missed in the darkness? What if she struck and he cried out? The letter-opener felt slippery in her sweaty palm. This was her last chance, too. He might not send for her again before the assassination.

If only Robert were here. He would know what to do. She longed for his strong arms around her. “What is most important?” she imagined him asking. Doing the job, getting the information out, she decided.

It was awful. The Middle East was about to explode in a flame that could engulf the world and no one knew about it except her. And even if she could get away and tell them—would they believe her?

She couldn’t worry about that now, she thought. Sending the message was more important than anything. That’s what Robert would do, she decided. Besides, every fiber of her being was screaming to escape. Abdul Sa’ad was reprieved, she thought bitterly.

She went over the plan again in her mind. The guard outside Abdul Sa’ad’s door was used to seeing women come and go. So long as Abdul Sa’ad didn’t cry out, he should be no problem. Providing no one saw her in the halls, only the guard by the door to the courtyard stood between her and the Mercedes. He usually fell asleep around 3 a.m. If he was awake, she would have to kill him. Once in the car, nothing would stop her, she vowed.

She had gone over it again and again. At first the thought of the guards and barbed wire and minefields had defeated her. Then the realization had hit her that there was an easy road out. Abdul Sa’ad had built this place as a fortress, not a prison. A fortress is designed to keep people out, not to prevent them from leaving. It would work, she thought. It had to.