There was a wave to it with a slight curl. He was lean and athletic, but had a relaxed way about him that could be very deceptive. Confident in his abilities, he no longer felt the need to prove anything. He had done it all, survived some really nasty stuff, and lived to keep his mouth shut. That was the way of the SEALs. They might exchange war stories with each other, or other operators, but that was as far as it went. They were a tight fraternity-one that didn't like braggarts.

Rapp set his flight bag down on the one bed and looked down at the map spread out on the other one.

"Here's the hotel, here's the mosque"-Coleman pointed to one spot and then the other-"and here's his apartment."

Rapp looked down at the map of downtown Montreal and the surrounding neighborhoods. "How long does it take him to walk from the mosque to the apartment?"

"He averages five minutes and twenty-three seconds. Quickest time is four minutes and eighteen seconds. He was late for prayer and in a hurry. Longest time was just over ten minutes. He stopped to talk to someone along the way."

"Any signs of surveillance by the police or the intelligence service?"

"Nothing."

Rapp frowned. "That's strange."

"I thought so at first, but then I got to thinking that maybe they've got someone on the inside."

"A fellow worshiper?"

"Yeah." Coleman pointed to an eight-by-ten surveillance photo of the mosque. "We've picked up some chatter. Not everyone agrees with his radical interpretation of the Koran."

Rapp's right eyebrow shot up in surprise. "You've got the mosque wired?"

"No. We've been able to monitor the worshipers as they come and go using parabolic mikes. Caught a couple older guys yesterday after Khalil delivered his Friday afternoon sermon. They think he's a cancer in their community. A bad influence on the kids. Filling their heads with all of this talk of jihad and martyrdom."