Middleton glanced up once more into the hills above the beach. He saw the white van again. Or perhaps it was another one. It was about a half-mile away, parked. There was glare on the windshield. He didn’t know if anybody was inside or not. Perhaps it had no connection to Balan. But Middleton was suspicious. He called to one of the French troops. “Please, could you go check that van out?”

The man squinted. “It’s just one van of many I’ve seen. They’re very common here.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“It is wise to separate our forces?”

“Please,” Middleton said patiently.

The French officer shrugged and climbed onto his motorcycle and roared up the beach road.

Tesla’s phone rang. She answered, then announced, “It’s Interpol. They’re going to brief me about Balan.”

She turned away and jotted notes as she listened.

Middleton said to his prisoner. “Kavi, we know you were sent here to kidnap or kill me. And we know it was Devras Sikari who ordered it. Those are the facts and they’re not in dispute. Now, you’re going to jail for a long time. There’s nothing that’s going to change that. But I can make sure that the prison you go to is tolerable or is hell on earth.”

“You can do to me what you want. You are all—”

“Shhh,” Middleton said amiably. “I’m not interested in speeches. It’s a waste of your time and it annoys me. Now, what I want to know is how can we find him? Sikari?”

“I don’t know where he is.” The man laughed. “And if I did, you’d never get the information out of me.” He glanced down at his hands, cuffed in front of him and chained to a waist shackle that Wetherby had carefully locked around him. Middleton thought at first that he was going to complain about the handcuffs but, no, he was simply staring fondly at a wide copper bracelet on his wrist.

Balan’s eyes shown fiercely as he continued. “You don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with. You’re not worthy to even stand in his shadow. You’ll see, though. You’ll see.”

Middleton wondered about this. Did he mean something specific? Or were the words just empty posturing?

He asked more questions, but the prisoner proved no more cooperative.

Middleton’s radio cracked. The French soldier was calling to report that he’d found no one in the van. He was checking the registration. He signed off.

Maybe it was nothing. He thought of the officer’s comment about dividing the forces. He looked around and saw no one on the beach.