Zuwayy screamed as the huge wall of fire blossomed out toward him, but his screams were drowned out by the roar of rushing fire and burning air. The overpressure that roiled over them was like a one-second superhurricane, tossing Zuwayy around like a puppet. Patrick kept him facing into the rushing wall of sand and red-hot wind until the air, now needing to fill in the vacuum created by the burnt air near the fireballs, reversed direction and rushed back outward.

Patrick jumped down off the roof of the rectory, went back inside, and tossed Zuwayy on the floor. All of Zuwayy’s hair on his face, head, and the back of his hands had burnt off, replaced by a beard and hair made of gray ash. He found a pitcher of water on the desk and dumped it on Zuwayy’s face to keep him from passing out. “Can you hear me, Zuwayy?” Patrick asked. Zuwayy was trembling so hard that Patrick thought he might be having a seizure. “Answer me, you coward! Can you hear me?”

“Yes ... yes, I can hear you,” Zuwayy cried. “Don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me!”

“You have one chance to live, Zuwayy,” Patrick said in Arabic. “You captured some prisoners off some vessels your military forces sank....”

“I know nothing of this! What are you accusing me of? This is not—”

Patrick silenced him with another shot of electricity. “Be quiet, Zuwayy. There is no doubt that your forces attacked those vessels—the only question now is whether or not you will die for doing so.”

“Do not kill me! Do not kill me!” Zuwayy bleated. “What do you want? Tell me!”

“You will turn them over to the Egyptians immediately,” Patrick said. “If they are not delivered within twelve hours, I will hunt you down and execute you before the entire world. And if any of them are harmed in any way, I will find you and crush you like an insect.” The stranger hammered the desk in the rectory with a gloved fist, and the heavy cedar-and-burl desktop smashed into pieces as if a wrecking ball was dropped on it. “I will burn your houses, destroy your bunkers, tap into your computer systems, and wipe out everything you own. Twelve hours. I’ll be waiting. If they are not returned, you die.” To punctuate his order, Patrick reached down, took Zuwayy’s nose between two fingers, and crushed it. Blood spurted everywhere, and Zuwayy howled in pain. The figure departed through the door to the mosque itself.

Moments later, Mekkawi returned through the secret tunnel entrance, his side arm in his hands, followed by three heavily armed soldiers. “Highness, there have been more attacks. I have relayed your orders—” He stopped in sheer horror when he saw Zuwayy lying on the floor, his hair burnt off, blood covering his face and chest. “My what happened?” He was going to call for the outside guards, but then he saw them, lying on the ground, still twitching from the voltage discharging through their bodies.