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Chapters (71)
  1. PART O NE DEATH OF A PROPHET
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. PART T WO THE LAND OF STRANGERS
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. PART T HREE THE SACRIFICE OF ISAAC
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Chapter 36
  40. Chapter 37
  41. Chapter 38
  42. Chapter 39
  43. Chapter 40
  44. Chapter 41
  45. Chapter 42
  46. PART F OUR THE BRIDGE OVER JAHANNAM
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Chapter 45
  50. Chapter 46
  51. Chapter 47
  52. Chapter 48
  53. Chapter 49
  54. Chapter 50
  55. Chapter 51
  56. Chapter 52
  57. Chapter 53
  58. Chapter 54
  59. Chapter 55
  60. Chapter 56
  61. Chapter 57
  62. Chapter 58
  63. Chapter 59
  64. PART F IVE A WEDDING BY THE LAKE
  65. Chapter 60
  66. Chapter 61
  67. Chapter 62
  68. Chapter 63
  69. Chapter 64
  70. A UTHOR’S N OTE
  71. A CKNOWLEDGMENTS

“I want everything you have on the Sword of Allah,” Gabriel said. “Case files, membership rolls, known front organizations in Europe. Names, addresses, telephone numbers.”

“It’s in a suitcase in the trunk of my car,” the Egyptian said. “But it’s going to cost you.”

Gabriel sighed. “How much, Wazir?”

“Another fifty thousand.”

“I don’t happen to have another fifty thousand on me.”

The Egyptian smiled. “I’ll take an IOU,” he said. “I know you’re good for it.”

The Samsonite suitcase that Wazir al-Zayyat produced from the trunk of his rented Volkswagen contained the lifeblood of one of the world’s most violent terror organizations and was therefore a steal at fifty thousand. When the Egyptian was gone, Gabriel opened a directory of known Sword members and started reading. Five minutes later he came across a name that was familiar to him. He located a photocopy of the corresponding file and examined the photograph. It was dated and of poor quality; even so, Gabriel could tell it was the same man he had encountered a week earlier in Amsterdam. I’m the person you’re looking for in Solomon Rosner’s files, the man had said to him that night. And I’ve come to help you.

Chapter 16

16

PARIS: 3:45 P.M., FRIDAY

The knock was cautious and contrite. Dr. Yusuf Ramadan, professor of Near Eastern history at American University in Cairo, looked up from his work and saw a woman standing in the doorway of his office. Like all female employees of the Institute of Islamic Studies, she was veiled. Even so, the professor averted his eyes slightly as she spoke.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Professor, but if it’s all right with you, I’ll be leaving now.”

“Of course, Atifah.”

“Can I get you anything before I go? More tea, perhaps?”

“I’ve had too much already.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “In fact, I’m going to be leaving soon myself. I’m meeting a colleague from the Sorbonne for coffee at four-thirty.”

“Don’t forget your umbrella. It’s still raining.”

“It’s been raining for five days.”

“Welcome to Paris. Peace be upon you, Professor Ramadan.”

“And you, Atifah.”