Haazim hadn't lied about his mother's manaquish. It was indeed tasty - a light, chewy flatbread topped with deliciously-spiced shredded lamb and cheese. The Middle East's version of a pizza, Lee supposed, and every bit as good. He wolfed down a piece, almost too fast to savor the richness of the lamb.

Haazim grinned. "It's good, yes?"

Lee nodded. "Very good." He reached for another piece.

And then paused.

This felt like an opportunity. Ever since Haazim had spoken with him yesterday, Lee had been trying to think of ways to get the man to talk again. It was a strategy taken directly from the Agency's manual: Establish a Relationship with Your Captor. It could improve your chances of escape or - at a minimum - make him less likely to kill you. Haazim had clammed up earlier when Lee pushed him for information but Lee had a sense that, with gentle prodding, he could be persuaded to talk. For whatever reason, Haazim struck him as a man who wasn't entirely happy in his present occupation.

Lee gestured at the manaquish. "Do you want a piece? It's large. I don't think I can eat the whole thing."

Haazim eyed the flatbread. "No," he said.

However, his no was reluctant, and Lee could have sworn that he licked his lips. Lee took the second piece but didn't bite into it right away. "I don't know about your mother," he said slowly, "but mine is unhappy if food is wasted. Especially food as good as this."

That was a fabrication, of course. Lee's mother had been killed when he when he was young. He could recall her face and her smile, but he never got to know whether she was the kind of mom who made a fuss about throwing away food. Still, you never knew what might spark a connection and Haazim appeared to hold mothers in high esteem.

Lee slid further down the cot that served as his bed and patted the space next to him. "Have a seat," he said easily. "It's not like I'll tell anyone if you take a couple of minutes for food. Where I come from, everyone gets a work break, no matter what job you have."

Haazim pressed his lips together and watched as Lee took a bite and chewed appreciatively. "Mama does not like it when food is wasted," he agreed cautiously, "especially lamb. And I have not had a break all day."

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. Something to work with, Lee thought, although he wasn't going to rush Haazim this time. So, he merely nodded and continued eating as if he had little interest in the man's decision. After a moment, Haazim took a piece of the manaquish and lowered himself next to Lee.

"She has her own blend of spices for the lamb," he explained, pointing at his piece.

"Delicious," Lee said honestly. "Does your mother cook like this for all the prisoners?" He hoped Haazim wouldn't be offended by the term prisoner. It was accurate but could be interpreted as a lack of gratefulness.

Fortunately, Haazim did not appear offended. "You are the only prisoner," he said matter-of-factly.

"I am?"

"Yes. My boss, he …how do you say it? He seized an opportunity."

And who the hell is your boss? Lee wondered. But he didn't ask. When he'd approached the subject yesterday, Haazim had shut down. So, instead, he shrugged and continued eating. "And what opportunity is that, exactly?"

Haazim's lip curled in what looked like disgust. "To make money, of course. Men with money always want to make more. When my boss heard an American was found alive in a bombed building, he thought to take you hostage - you know, for ransom? But then, when he learned your name, it turned out he had heard of you. He knew you were American agent. So, he thought to make more money by offering you to your enemy."

Lee raised an eyebrow. In that one reply, Haazim had given him more information than he'd presented during the entire length of Lee's captivity. Now, Lee just had to make sense of it.

To start with, whoever was the boss apparently had money, at least by Haazim's standards. But then, Zakir was an oil-rich country. There were a number of wealthy families, even though the prince was attempting to make all natural resources the property of the state. That didn't narrow it down very much. More interesting was the fact that the boss had heard of Lee and knew he was an agent. The Middle East wasn't his usual territory and he wasn't generally known here - not like he was, say, in Moscow. In fact, the last time he'd had anything to do with Zakir had been seven years ago when Rheza and Penelope Kahn visited the U.S. and Lee had been responsible for their security.

Could Rheza Kahn be keeping him captive?

Lee had a hard time believing it - not unless Kahn had undergone a complete change of philosophy and personality. The prince he'd met in Virginia had been adamantly opposed to corruption and his American wife was - if anything - even more opposed. Lee knew Amanda and the princess had stayed in contact, and Amanda never once had a bad word to say about Penny Khan. But then the prince hadn't traveled to the U.S. alone, had he? He'd had an entourage of government officials with him; secretaries, undersecretaries, assistants - all the usual titles.

Lee tried to recall some of the names but after seven years, little was coming to mind. He was searching for ways to fish for details without scaring Haazim off, when the man finished his piece of the manaquish and stood.

"I must go now," he said.

"You don't want another piece?" Lee asked quickly. "There's still some left. You've only taken a couple of minutes. You can take a couple more."

Haazim shook his head. "I need to be ready to drive the boss. That is my real job - I drive his car. I only do this," he gestured around Lee's cell, "because my boss asked and he can make things bad for me and my family if I do not."

So, Haazim wasn't a professional. He was a chauffeur, forced into it.

"But you have been doing a good job," Lee assured. "Nothing has gone wrong. I'm still here and it seems like you've kept his secret. Surely, your boss must be happy with that."

"The boss is not happy with much these days. It has been weeks and he has not found Russian buyer for you. His plan is not working."

"No?" Lee felt a spark of hope, then reconsidered. If he couldn't get money for Lee, the boss might decide that the best thing was to dispose of him.

Lee needed to find a way out.

A/N: Sorry the chapter is short, but it's a logical breaking point. Next chapter, the mission finally begins...