“Just shut up, Zuwayy,” Kazakov said. “Nothing has changed. You should have just killed all those captives, then set a trap for those commandos when they returned to finish you off. You should have never turned them over to the Egyptians. At least you had the brains to turn them over to Khan and not to Salaam.”

“That commando said he was going to kill me if I didn’t turn them over to the Egyptians,” Zuwayy said. “He got into the sanctuary so easy, I didn’t—”

“Hold it,” Kazakov interrupted him. “You said, ‘that commando.’ Do you mean to say there was only one commando?”

“I told you there was only one!”

“But you said a minefield and your military base were also hit.”

“They were, but only one commando got into my sanctuary,” Zuwayy said. “He neutralized the guards and was waiting for me when I—”

“He ‘neutralized’ the guards? How? Did he kill them?”

“No. He had no weapons—he didn’t even touch them.”

Kazakov nearly choked on the cognac he was sipping. He rose slowly to his feet, his throat suddenly dry, his ears ringing. It couldn’t be, he thought wildly. No, it couldn't be ... !

“Did you hear me, Kazakov?”

“This commando—he was wearing a black outfit, a full helmet with large eyeholes, and a slim backpack? Did he paralyze you with an electric shock that traveled from electrodes on his shoulders to you, without projectiles or wires?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“Because I have been hunting him and his team down for the past year,” Kazakov said. “These commandos are Americans. I do not believe they are government operatives—I believe they are privately organized. They fund their organization by shaking down their targets for money or weapons.”

“How do you know so much about them?” Kazakov was about to tell him not to ask stupid questions, but Zuwayy came up with the answer by himself moments later: “So you’ve encountered this group before, eh? Perhaps they are the reason you were captured and brought to trial in The Hague?”

“Zuwayy...”

“And perhaps this private organization got part of its funding from you, eh, tovarisch?” Zuwayy asked, laughing. “Oi dal yimu pa pizde mishalkayl Did you get your ass handed to you by them? Now that I think about it, he did seem to know about you.”

“Listen to me, you ignorant goat-fucker,” Kazakov snarled, “you can make fun of me all you want, but if we don’t stop these commandos, they’ll destroy all of us. You were lucky they just broke your nose and blew up your base—they could have just as easily carried you out of Libya and destroyed your whole fucking capital!”

“What are you going to do, Kazakov?”