“I’m sorry to tell you,” said Felix, “that I cannot allow Muslim teachers into Rwanda.”

“Fortunately,” said Alai, “that isn’t why I called.”

“Excellent,” said Felix.

“I am calling in the interest of world peace. And I understand you have already made your decision about who is the best hope of humankind for achieving that goal—no, say no names.”

“Since I have no idea what you’re talking about—”

“Excellent,” said Alai. “A good Muslim always assumes that unbelievers have no idea.” They both laughed. “All I ask is that you let it be known that there is a man crossing the Rub’al Khali on foot because his camel won’t let him mount and ride.”

“And you wish someone to help this poor wanderer?”

“God watches over all his creatures, but the Caliph cannot always reach out a hand to do God’s will.”

“I hope this poor unfortunate will be helped as soon as possible,” said Felix.

“Let it be soon. I am ready at any time to hear good news of him.”

They said their good-byes, and Alai got up and went in search of Ivan.

“Pack,” he said.

Ivan raised his eyebrows. “What will you need?”

“Clean underwear. My most flamboyantly Caliph-like costume. Three men who will kill at my command and will not turn their weapons on me. And a loyal man with a video camera with a fully charged battery and plenty of film.”

“Should the vidman be one of the loyal soldiers? Or a separate person?”

“Let all the loyal soldiers be part of the video crew.”

“And shall I be one of these three?”

“That is for you to decide,” said Alai. “If I fail, the men who are with me will surely die.”

“Better to die quickly before the face of God’s servant than slowly at the hands of God’s enemies,” said Ivan.

“My favorite Russian,” said Alai.

“I’m a Kazakh Turk,” Ivan reminded him.

“God was good to send you to me.”

“And good when he gave you to all of the faithful.”

“Will you say so when I have done all that I mean to do?”

“Always,” said Ivan. “Always I am your faithful servant.”

“You are a servant only to God,” said Alai. “To me, you are a friend.”

An hour later, Alai received an email that he knew was from Petra, despite the innocent signature. It was a request that he pray for a child that was undergoing an operation at the largest hospital in Beirut at seven o’clock the next morning. “We will begin our own prayers at five in the morning,” said the letter, “so that dawn will find us praying.”

Alai merely answered, “I will pray for your nephew, and for all those who love him, that he may live. Let it be as God wills, and we will rejoice in his wisdom.”

So he would have to go to Beirut. Well, the drive was easy enough. The problem was doing it without alarming anyone that his enemies had set to spy on him.