She snapped out of her daydream when Kahlid Salib strode into her makeshift office in the adobe house she’d chosen as the organization’s headquarters for the week.
“You wanted to see me?” Salib asked.
“Yes, I wanted to thank you again for your work in Sudan,” she said. “The Americans took the bait before, and they’re taking it again.”
“That’s outstanding news.”
“However, there is a catch.”
Salib’s eyebrows shot upward. “A catch?”
“They want me to be at the exchange personally.”
Salib scowled and shook his head. “Absolutely not. That kind of demand is out of the question. They’d never send the president to a prisoner exchange if you made that as a stipulation. It’s just ridiculous.”
“I am intrigued by what they want.”
“They want to bring you to justice for the charges they’ve already levied against you through their American media mouthpieces,” Salib said. “They’ve already branded you as a butcher, all while completely unaware of how their own government routinely murders hundreds of—”
“Enough,” Evana said as she raised her hand. “I don’t need you to explain the hypocritical nature of the American military machine. I simply want to stop it. And that’s why I’m seriously considering taking them up on this offer.”
“If given the opportunity, they will kill you.”
She shrugged. “And if they do, I know that Al Fatihin will be in your competent hands.”
“You swore to Karif that you would carry out his legacy and see this to the end. If you’re dead, that will be a difficult promise to keep.”
“You worry too much,” Evana said as she stood up from behind her desk and sauntered over to Salib. She gently put her hands on his chest before slipping her hands behind his back and interlocking her fingers.
His steely gaze met hers. “This hardly feels like the time for a romantic gesture.”
“What are you so afraid of?” she asked. “Do you think you’re going to lose me?”
Salib laughed nervously and looked aside.
“I know how you feel about me,” she said. “There’s no reason for you to hide it any longer.”
“I’m a warrior, and we have an important mission. We can’t be distracted by passions of the flesh.”
Evana released him and eased back a step before ripping his shirt open. Then she drew close again, caressing his rock hard muscles on his bare chest.
Salib took a deep breath before looking down at Evana. He moved in for a kiss. Almost instantly, she shoved him and backed away.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Salib’s face turned a rosy hue. “I thought that you—”
“That was a test and you failed,” Evana said. “You are worried about a little meeting with the Americans that could change the fortunes of this organization, but I believe I'm the one who needs to be worried. Apparently, all it takes is a little attention from a woman along with some simple flattery and you'll crumble.”
“I’m sorry,” Salib said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that—”
“Save your explanations. I’m not interested in hearing your justification for embracing my advances, especially when you have a wife and children at home. What kind of Muslim man are you? Certainly not the kind who takes his vows seriously.”
Salib hung his head for a moment before looking up. “Again, I apologize. That’s not the kind of man that I am, but I must take responsibility for my actions. However, I still feel compelled to urge you to change your mind about agreeing to the Americans’ terms regarding the exchange.”
She smiled and returned to her chair behind her desk. “There aren't many agents I thought they would even be willing to consider an exchange for. But I believe we struck the perfect balance between an operative the CIA cares deeply about and a prisoner they see little value in. To them, Ramin is simply occupying space in a cell. They know by now that he's never going to provide them with actionable intelligence. It's an easy decision, even for a government who likes to thump its chest and brag about how they never negotiate with terrorists.”
“In that case, I will defer to your judgment and pray to Allah that you are not walking into a trap.”
“I don’t trust them, but I don’t believe they will try any tricks when it comes to Agent Black,” she said. “It’s me they need to worry about. I have my own special plans for the Americans.”
* * *
BLUNT POURED A GLASS of bourbon and stared at the photo of the mystery man from the U.N.
“Who are you?” Blunt asked aloud.
He peered closer at the man’s face before placing a loupe over the picture and squinting. After several seconds, Blunt sighed and then leaned back in his chair. There weren’t any identifying marks—jewelry, clothes, briefcase, or watch—that gave Blunt any clues.
He would’ve preferred to figure out who the other man was by some other means. His worst nightmare was allowing Hawk to walk into a trap and Al Fatihin taking out his two best agents in one fell swoop. But desperation had pushed him to this point, though he was sure Evana Bahar would never agree to the terms of their exchange.
Blunt was in the middle of a long pull on his drink when the phone rang. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his index finger and thumb before answering the call.
“This is Blunt,” he said.
“J.D., Al White here. I’ve got an answer for you.”
“So soon? Must be a no.”
“That’s what I
