Al-Zayyat sighed heavily and glanced at the three interrogators. The beating they administered was twenty minutes in duration and, even by Egyptian standards, savage in its intensity. Mandali, when he was returned to his seat at the interrogation table, was barely conscious and weeping like a child. Al-Zayyat pressed the PLAY button for a second time.

“Where did you get this tape?”

“From a man in—”

Al-Zayyat quickly cut in. “Yes, I remember, Hussein—you got it from a man in a coffeehouse in Imbaba. But what was this man’s name?”

“He didn’t…tell me.”

“Which coffeehouse?”

“I can’t…remember.”

“You’re sure, Hussein?”

“I’m…sure.”

Al-Zayyat stood without another word and nodded to the interrogators. As he stepped into the corridor he could hear Mandali begging for mercy. “Do not fear the henchmen of Pharaoh,” the sheikh was telling him. “Place your faith in Allah, and Allah will protect you.”

Chapter 31

31

COPENHAGEN: 5:34 P.M., TUESDAY

There had been no time for Housekeeping to acquire proper safe lodging for Gabriel’s team in Copenhagen, and so they had settled instead at the Hotel d’Angleterre, a vast white luxury liner of a building looming over the sprawling King’s New Square. Gabriel and Sarah arrived shortly after 5:30 and made their way to a room on the fourth floor. Mordecai was seated at the writing desk in stocking feet, headphones over his ears, eyes fixed on a pair of receivers like a doctor reading a brain scan for signs of life. Gabriel slipped on the spare set, then looked at Mordecai and grimaced.

“It sounds as though there’s a pile driver in the room.”

“There is,” Mordecai said. “And his name is Ahmed. He’s banging a toy against the floor a few inches from the phone.”

“How long has it been going on?”

“An hour.”

“Why doesn’t she ask him to stop?

“Maybe she’s deaf. God knows I will be soon if he doesn’t stop.”

“Any activity on the line yet?”

“Just one outgoing call,” Mordecai said. “She called Ibrahim in Amsterdam to complain about Ishaq’s prolonged absence. Unless it was an elaborate ruse, she doesn’t know anything.”

Gabriel looked at his wristwatch. It was 5:37. A spy’s life, he thought. Mind-numbing boredom broken by brief interludes of sheer terror. He slipped on the headset and waited for Hanifah’s telephone to ring.