“I’m not harping. I just-” Daniel broke off. He was harping and he knew it. How could he explain his anger at the idea of Bradford making love to the woman in that photograph when he didn’t understand it himself? “You’re right. I sure as hell haven’t the right to cast the first stone.” He clasped his hands around his knee. “Okay, fill me in. So far you’ve told me only that four terrorists have hijacked a Sedikhan Oil Company plane and are holding Zilah Dabala and the pilot hostage to force Ben Raschid to release two of their group from a Sedikhan prison. I gather you wouldn’t be here unless you wanted my help. What’s the scenario?” A slight smile touched his lips. “I admit to being curious about why you think I’d be interested in the job after my two years in official retirement.”

Clancy scowled. “Alex was overgenerous, as usual. How does he expect me to run an efficient security system if he makes my best man rich enough to quit the business?”

“You could have suggested that he not give me those oil wells,” Daniel said with a grin. “Your opinion carries a good deal of weight with Alex.”

“After you saved Sabrina and her son when that nut tried to shoot them?” Clancy asked sourly. “I’m just surprised he didn’t give you a seat on the board of Sedikhan Oil as well.”

“He offered to do that, but I told him I’d just as soon the company stayed solvent.” Daniel’s eyes were twinkling. “I’m no businessman.”

“No, your talents lie in other directions,” Clancy agreed. “And so does your experience. That’s why I’m here. I would have handled the matter myself but the situation has become a little touchy.”

“Touchy?”

“As in complicated.” Clancy’s lips tightened. “All right, here’s the way it’s shaping up.” He leaned forward in the cane chair and his words fired out with machine-gun rapidity. “The terrorists are headed by one Ali Hassan, who is the brother of one of the prisoners being held in Marasef.