“Your husband offers us a bargain. If we can retrieve your daughter, he will give us what he swears is incredibly valuable information touching on al-Qaeda and the Army of God. Do you think I should believe him?”

“Major Roper, he has never lied to me. He is a Bedouin. His honor is everything.”

“It would mean him staying here in custody for the period the operation lasts. And you, Dr. Rashid, perhaps you would be better in protective custody, too. We live in a hard and dangerous world.”

“No, thank you. My operating schedule at the hospital would never permit it.”

“After what your husband has indicated about the people he won’t talk about, I think I could suggest a compromise,” Dillon said. “Major Greta Novikova, a valued colleague, is a highly skilled officer experienced in several wars. She could travel with you as security.”

Molly Rashid seemed to hesitate, and her husband said, “Take the offer, please, Molly.”

“All right. Can I see Caspar?”

“Visit, by all means. Major Novikova will arrange to pick you up.” He hung up. “That’s it for this show. Take him to bed.” Henderson took Rashid out.

AFTERWARD, THEY GATHERED to talk it out, while Greta poured tea and vodka, Russian style. “So this is the way it looks to me,” said Dillon. “Roper, you’ll handle logistics from here. Henderson and Doyle will mind Rashid. I know they’ll tell me they can’t bear the sight of any other military police sergeants in this place, anyway. Greta, you’ll guard Molly Rashid.”

“I liked her,” Greta said, handing out vodka.

“Which leaves you and me, Billy boy, to go to Iraq,” Dillon told him.