Billy paced the floor of Zhmed's small living room, pausing every few steps to exchange frustrated glances with Francine. The two of them had spent an hour questioning the Russian in an effort to unravel the details of Amanda's plan. They'd probed at the discussions she'd had with him before she went to Zakir and asked him to recount his recent call with her twice. The only thing new information Zhmed had been able to reveal was that Amanda was staying at the palace with Princess Penelope Khan. Everything else - which wasn't a lot - they'd already figured out.

"What do you think?" Billy asked Francine. "Do we phone the palace and ask to speak with Amanda?"

"We could." Francine shrugged. "There's a chance she won't take our call, though, not if she thinks we'll try to stop her."

"Yes," Billy sighed, "that's exactly what she'll do. But maybe it won't matter," he added more optimistically. "Based on Amanda's call with Zhmed this afternoon, it sounds as if the undersecretary hasn't taken the bait. That means we have a little time."

"Maybe." Francine's voice was noncommittal.

"What about-" Billy began.

The phone rang. The three of them looked at each other. No one said it aloud, but it was clear they were thinking the same thing. It could be Amanda.

"Answer it," Billy said to Zhmed.

For a moment, the Russian looked as if he might refuse. Then he shrugged and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

Billy couldn't hear what the caller said, but he knew immediately that Amanda was on the other end of the line. A look of guilt passed over Zhmed's face before he covered the mouthpiece with his palm. "It is her," he said. "It's Amanda."

Billy crossed the room, Francine on his heels. Without asking, he took the receiver out of the Russian's hand and raised it to his ear. Francine put her head close to listen.

"Amanda." Billy's voice was flat.

There was a pause. "Sir? What are-"

"Amanda, we know you're with Penelope Khan in Zakir and we know what you're doing. Well…most of what you're doing."

"Yes, sir," she said. She didn't sound surprised. She must have figured the Agency would catch on at some point. Billy guessed she had hoped to have her mission completed by then.

Even though he knew it was pointless, he couldn't help asking, "Amanda, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

No hesitation this time. Her voice came out in a rush. "I know you're angry and I understand why, but I don't have time for explanations. I've spoken with the undersecretary and I'm certain he knows where Lee is. He thinks I'm working with a Russian buyer and he wants to talk directly to the buyer - tonight. Penny is keeping him busy at the moment, but I'm not sure how much longer she can hold him. I called to tell Zhmed he needs to be ready to act as the buyer."

So much for having time to get agents to her. Billy looked at Francine. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Sir?" Amanda's voice was anxious.

"What's your plan?" Billy asked.

"What? I just told you, I don't have much ti-"

"What's your plan?" Billy repeated. "Zhmed speaks to the undersecretary and….what?"

"Zhmed demands proof that the undersecretary really has Lee. He tells him I have to see Lee with my own eyes - which means I learn where Lee is being held."

Maybe, Billy thought. Although, if the undersecretary has any brains, he'll blindfold you. But people tended to underestimate Amanda. Being a suburban mother was one of her secret weapons.

Aloud, he said, "He takes you to Lee and then what? You two bust out of there?"

Amanda exhaled. "Maybe. I was going to play it by ear, depending on the security. I took a few things from Leatherneck's workshop."

"We're aware of that."

"They could help."

''Right." Billy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling no better than he had ten minutes ago. Amanda's plan had a lot of ifs and maybes. What the hell should he tell her? If he gave her the go-ahead, there was a chance she could be taken hostage, too, or worse. And it would be with his endorsement. On the other hand, if he told her stop, she was most likely going to make a move anyway. Better for her to proceed knowing she had support back home. Her head would be clearer.

He glanced again at Francine. Her expression was neutral, maybe even relieved that the decision wasn't hers to make. If she wanted his job when he retired, he thought, she was going to have to learn to make these tough calls. But not at this moment.

Billy pressed the phone to his ear. "Go ahead," he said to Amanda. "Run your scenario. We'll be here with Zhmed when you make the call."

Her voice came out in a whisper. "Thank you."

"But please try to be careful. Remember, you're no good to Lee if you get caught."

"Yes, sir."

"And about the things you took from Leatherneck's workshop. Are you aware that not all the canisters are zap gas? A couple of them are TS54. It's experimental and it's not -"

"He's coming," Amanda interrupted, before Billy could finish. "I have to go now. Expect the call in a few minutes."

"Amanda-"

She hung up.

Billy looked first at Francine and then at Zhmed. "It's showtime," he said. "Or it will be, in a few minutes." He glanced around the room. "Is there something we can write on in case we need to tell you what to say?"

Zhmed nodded and fetched a pad of paper.

Amanda heard the sharp tap of the undersecretary's shoes well before she saw him enter the foyer. She disconnected the call with Billy and moved away from the phone, so that by the time the man entered the small room she was sitting in a chair, looking appropriately nervous. It didn't require much acting.

The undersecretary had a scowl on his face. "The princess," he muttered, "she is like all women. She talks and talks. It was impossible to walk away when her husband was standing there. He indulges her. He should instruct her to speak less."

Wow, Amanda thought, the man really has no respect for women. Of course, knowing Penny, the princess had enjoyed making the undersecretary listen. As a rule, she rarely exercised the authority of her position, but she made an exception when she encountered arrogance and rudeness. And arrogant and rude summed up the undersecretary pretty damn well. Normally, Amanda would have enjoyed thwarting him, too, but it was a luxury she couldn't afford at the moment. Nothing good would come from making the man angrier. And if he underestimated her...well, that was to her benefit. So, she acted as if she hadn't heard his comments.

He studied her with narrowed eyes. "Where is your friend?"

Apparently, he wasn't so angry that he had forgotten Alan. Amanda pressed her lips together and gazed back at him meekly. Alan is doing what you did, she thought. He's in the bathroom, planning to listen in on the phone extension. Aloud, she said, "The princess asked him to speak with her. She likes hearing news from America and doesn't get the the chance very often. I told him I would join them shortly."

The undersecretary nodded, accepting her explanation without question. It aligned perfectly with his opinion of Penny - the spoiled western woman who expected to be catered to. He pointed at the phone.

"Call your contact."

Amanda didn't try to suppress her nervous breathing. She picked up the phone and dialed Zhmed.

"Privet," he answered.

"Privet," she said, and quickly added, "I think I may have found what you are looking for."

Zhmed said slowly, "That is good news, Mrs. King."

"I am with-"

The undersecretary snatched the phone out of her hand before she could finish the sentence.

"Hello?" he nearly shouted into the receiver.

Amanda couldn't hear Zhmed's reply, but he must have come back with something like who is this?, because the undersecretary said, "I am the man in possession of the item you want."

There was a pause as the undersecretary listened to Zhmed. Then he shrugged. "Very well. If you wish me to be more explicit, I have Lee Stetson in my custody. I believe he is of interest to you. The price is ten million U.S. dollars."

Another pause. The undersecretary's brow furrowed.

"I can send you photographs," he said, "and you can speak to him on the phone. I assure you it is Lee Stetson."

Whatever Zhmed said next caused the undersecretary's face to darken. "I am a man of honor," he spit out, "and I give you my word. It is Stetson. There is no need to involve Mrs. King any further."

Oh crap, Amanda thought, the undersecretary is trying to cut me out of this. Come on, Zhmed, you have to get him to take me to Lee...

"I cannot believe you are relying on a woman for confirmation," the undersecretary continued, his jaw set in a hard line, "especially one who is not an agent of any kind. If you insist, I can take Mrs. King to see him. However, I will also need proof that you have the funds. Ten million."

I didn't plan for that! Amanda's breath caught in her throat. She had been so focused on finding Lee that she hadn't thought about faking the money. For a second, it seemed as if the entire scheme was going to go sideways.

But the undersecretary's expression smoothed into a wolfish grin as he listened. "Yes, an account number in the Cayman's will be acceptable," he said into the phone.

Amanda exhaled quietly. Thank you, Billy. This has to be your doing.

"I will take her to him tomorrow," the undersecretary said. "And you can get the funds ready for transfer. Then we will be in touch."

He hung up the phone and turned to Amanda.

"It looks as though we are not through with each other yet, Mrs. King."

Haazim stifled a yawn as the undersecretary slid into the back of the limousine. It was odd to be tired when all he had done was sit in a car, but he'd found that sitting and waiting could be as draining as hard labor. And besides, it was after eleven. Most nights he was in bed at this hour.

"Home, sir?" he asked his boss.

The man nodded. "Yes. And I have a job for you after you have taken me there."

Which meant the night still wasn't over. Haazim clenched the steering wheel (along with his teeth) and remained silent. He'd gain nothing by voicing his objection.

"I want you to check on the prisoner," the boss said.

"Check on him?" Haazim repeated in surprise. He'd been to the cell several hours ago to bring Lee his dinner. What could have happened since then?

His boss snorted impatiently. "Yes, check on him. I'm not sure how much you understood earlier when I spoke with the woman, but I have a potential buyer. The buyer is going to have the woman verify the prisoner's identity tomorrow. The man must be in clean clothes and appear reasonably healthy. He will be less valuable if he looks abused or ill."

Haazim continued to face the steering wheel, hiding his irritated expression from the boss. First of all, he thought, I understood your conversation with the woman perfectly. My English is as good as yours. And second, it's a little late to be worrying about Lee's welfare. If you were that worried, you should have been checking on him yourself. What do you think I could do now if he were ill? Heal him overnight? Lucky for you, he's been eating Mama's cooking and is doing well.

Aloud, he simply said, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, take me home."

Haazim navigated the quiet streets to the undersecretary's house. He was there in less than twenty minutes.

"Don't forget to change cars," the boss reminded him as Haazim stopped by the front door.

"Yes, sir." As if I thought I could use your car...

After the boss got out, Haazim drove to the garage and parked the limo. Then he walked behind the house to retrieve his small, dented compact. For a moment, he contemplated going straight home and lying to the boss about checking on Lee. He was certain everything in the cell was as it should be. But the undersecretary had ways of finding things out and it would be safer if Haazim actually went there. So, he drove to the abandoned house on the outskirts of the city and used his key to enter. The guard inside the door looked up in surprise.

"You are here late," he said.

Haazim shrugged. "The boss wants me to check on the prisoner. He thinks he has at last found a buyer."

The guard nodded wearily. "And of course he couldn't ask you to check at a reasonable hour."

Haazim rolled his eyes. "Of course."

The guard waved him on and Haazim took the stairs down to the basement. As expected, the dimly lit hall was quiet, unchanged from his visit a few hours earlier. Walking to the cell door, he unlocked it and swung it open.

Lee was stretched out on the cot with his eyes closed, breathing slowly and steadily. The light cotton shirt and trousers he wore were clean.

He's fine, Haazim thought. With an unexpected pang, he couldn't help adding, at least for now. The boss had said nothing about the potential fate that awaited Lee if the sale went through, but Haazim doubted that his long term prospects were favorable. It bothered him more than he would like. Whatever Lee had done for a living, he struck Haazim as a decent man. And he had treated Haazim with respect.

Lee opened his eyes, blinking in the faint light. "Haazim? What time is it?"

"It's late," Haazim replied quietly. "I'm sorry to wake you."

Something in his voice must have sounded strange, because Lee swung his legs to the side of the cot and sat up, his body quickly becoming tense. "Something's happened," he said. "Am I leaving?"

"Not at this moment." Haazim shook his head. "But the boss believes he has a buyer for you. I think you will be here only for a few more days."

Lee ran a hand through his hair. "I don't suppose you caught the buyer's name."

"No. The buyer is Russian, working with an intermediary - an American woman. The woman did not reveal his identity."

"But you saw her? What was she like?"

Haazim shrugged. "She was not someone I would have expected to be involved in buying prisoners. She seemed nice. She told the boss she is a mother with two teenaged sons and that she started working with the Russians to earn money for their education."

To Haazim's surprise, Lee got to his feet. There was a gleam in his eye. "What did she look like?"

Haazim frowned. "Slender," he replied slowly, recalling the view he'd had of her in the limo's rear view mirror. "Quite pretty, with dark hair and eyes. She was sitting when I saw her, but I also think she may be tall." He studied Lee's expression. "Do you know her?"

Lee sat back down and lowered his head. "No. I thought for a minute that I did, but...I was wrong."

"I see," Haazim said. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that Lee was lying. There was something in the prisoner's voice - an energy that was inconsistent with his slumped posture. For a second Haazim considered mentioning it to the boss, but it was late and the undersecretary would not appreciate being wakened for something as inconsequential as an impression.

He shrugged. I suppose we'll find out tomorrow.