“I hope you brought more than clean shirts and underwear.”

“I did.”

Carter gave a fatigued smile and led Gabriel wordlessly into his office.

Gabriel accepted a cup of black coffee and lowered himself onto Carter’s couch. Carter picked up a remote control from the edge of his tidy desk and fired it at a bank of television monitors. Elizabeth Halton’s image immediately appeared on one of the screens. She was seated on the floor of a featureless room, dressed in the same cold-weather running suit she had been wearing in Hyde Park the morning of her kidnapping. In her hands was a copy of the Times, headlined with her own abduction. Four men were standing behind her: black jumpsuits, black balaclavas, green headbands with crossed swords and crescent moons. The one directly behind Elizabeth had a large knife in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. He was reading a statement in Egyptian-accented Arabic.

“I take it you don’t require translation,” Carter said.

Gabriel, listening intently, shook his head. “He says he’s from the Sword of Allah. He says they want you to release Sheikh Abdullah Abdul-Razzaq from prison and return him to Egypt by six P.M. London time next Friday. He says that if you don’t comply with their demands, the ambassador’s daughter will die. There will be no extensions, no negotiations, and no more contact. If there is any attempt at a rescue, Elizabeth Halton will be killed immediately.”

The image turned to hash. Carter killed it with a flick of his remote and looked at Gabriel.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I learned about the Sword of Allah connection yesterday. It’s why I’m here.”

“How did you find out?”

“Sources and methods, Adrian. Sources and methods.”

“Come now,” Carter said mildly. “A woman’s life is at stake. Now is not the time to be territorial.”

“Just because we are technically at peace with Egypt doesn’t mean we don’t spy on them. We need to know whether the regime is going to stand or fall. We need to know whether we are about to be facing a hostile Islamic republic armed with advanced American weaponry. And we don’t always get the information we need from our friends here at Langley.”

“Your spy is SSI, I take it?”

Gabriel gave a sigh of resignation. “Our spy is in the business of keeping Mubarak and his regime alive.”

Carter took that as confirmation of his suspicions. “Why is it that we’ve spent upward of fifty billion dollars propping up that regime, but you found out about the Sword connection before we did?”