“Who are they?” Martin turned to look over his shoulder at the headlights of the cab behind them. Carling nudged him none too gently.

“Quit staring. Want to know about Fathi el Had-diz?”

“Well, I assumed he was political. You know, an extremist.”

Their cab driver, obviously not a native Dallasite, was taking advantage of a long red light to consult a Mapsco. He muttered something under his breath, tossed the street map on the floor, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“He probably started out that way, but he went commercial. He’s a businessman. If what we suspect is true, he’s going to take this technology—or this process—whatever it is, and sell it to the true believers for whatever he can get. He’s just as likely to sell to the IRA or the Neo-Nazis as he is to any Arab group.” Carling smiled grimly. “He’s very good. Also, he’s very well staffed, which is something of a problem right now. He knows we’re on his trail, and he’s going to be assigning people to cover us, if he hasn’t already.”

Martin resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder again. It didn’t save him from another nudge in his ribs, a harder one. He looked down and saw the handle of a gun.

“Are you going to shoot me?”

She gave him a disgusted look. “Just take it. If I wanted to shoot you, I’d point the barrel at you. Keep it with you. I assume you know how to shoot?”

She said it like it was something everyone learned in grade school, like multiplication tables. Her face went blank as he shook his head.

“I thought everybody in Texas knew how to shoot. Never mind, here’s the safety, I’ve already loaded a round in the chamber. Just take it off of safety, point and shoot. And try not to shoot me, if you can help it.”

It was a minor miracle that the cab driver had missed the whole exchange; he was busy squinting at street signs and muttering again. Martin gently pushed the gun away with two fingers and shook his head.

“I’d just blow my foot off.” She was going to protest, he could see it; to stop her he leaned forward and tapped on the glass separating them from the driver. “Hey! Buddy! Take a left up here.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Giving him directions to my office. We can pick up my car there. It’ll save us a few hours of driving around while this guy figures out street signs.”