They must have driven another mile before Sarah spoke. “You’re going to snare the assassin in one of the werewolves’ traps. You thought of it back at Marian’s house. That’s why you didn’t get rid of the tracking device.”

Rakkim nodded. He loved a smart woman.

“How are you going to work it so he gets trapped and not us?”

Rakkim slowed, let the car come to a complete stop. Turned off the lights. Wind whipped the trees, sent dead leaves skittering. The road was a slight downhill, running straight through the trees. Perfect place for a trap, the traveler eager to get past the dense forest, accelerating, taking advantage of the terrain.

“Oh.” Sarah sounded sick. “I see.”

Rakkim got out. “Get behind the wheel. If something happens…if this doesn’t work-”

“It’ll work.”

Rain streamed down his face. “If I get ambushed, drive on the shoulder and keep going. Don’t stop for me, or anything else. Go back to Jill’s. I’ll find you.”

“I’m not scared.” It was a lie, but he was glad she made the attempt. She slid behind the wheel. “Bombing the Holy City, blaming the Jews…the Old One is cursed. That’s why his plan has been frustrated. We’re instruments of God, Rakkim. Allah has power over everything. He won’t allow us to fail.”

Rakkim kissed her on the lips, savoring her warmth. “If you say so.”

Sarah reached for him, but he was already gone, trotting down the road. The wind gusted, made his clothes flap, but it felt good to be outside, good to be cold, battered by the storm. A few minutes later, he heard gravel crunching far behind him. Sarah slowly followed him, engine off, coasting, lights out. He would have preferred she stayed put, but he didn’t think it likely that the werewolves kept patrols out all night. The squatters had to be alert to attack, but no one was going to go after the werewolves. He kept his eyes open anyway, staying to the edge of the road, and when a tree limb cracked in the darkness, he crouched for an attack.

It was another mile before he saw the spike strip laid across the road. Painted flat black, nearly invisible, so well hidden that he nearly stumbled on it. He dragged it into the underbrush, listening. No one was there. He closed his eyes, waited, then opened them. No one other than Fedayeen would have spotted it, but there, through the trees…a light flickered. A candle lantern probably. Rakkim ran a couple of hundred yards past where he had found the spike strip. There were no other traps. The werewolves figured rightly that the spike strip would be enough to blow out the tires of cars going in either direction, send them careening into the ravine or crashing into a tree.

He ran back to Sarah, had her drive forward, then pulled the spike strip back into place behind the car. He tried to get into the driver’s seat, but she waved him around to the other side and started the engine. He kept expecting the werewolves to break from the underbrush, howling, face paint dripping in the storm.

“I want you to drive very slowly away-”

Sarah floored it. The tires spun, churning up gravel as they roared down the road. She hit the high beams.

“What are you doing?”

“You said the assassin would stop when we stopped and drive on when we did,” said Sarah, still accelerating. “I’d rather he was speeding when he hits those spikes.”

Rakkim looked behind him. It was a good plan. “Just stay on the road.” Far behind them, at the turnoff from the logging road, Rakkim thought he saw a glimmer of headlights through the rain, but it was just lightning flashing. He kept watch anyway.

CHAPTER 32

Darwin sat in the car, headlights off, listening to the patter of rain on the roof and thinking of the handsome young police officer. He remembered the way the man had washed his feet in the bathtub prior to prayers, his long toes, and the care with which he had prepared himself for his devotions. They said that a good Muslim was always ready for death. So, in this case, Darwin had been an instrument of divine instruction, a reiteration of the need for-

The tracking receiver suddenly started beeping, startling Darwin out of his metaphysical musings. With his night-vision goggles the flashing diodes of the receiver seemed bright as shooting stars, the beeping a high-pitched keening now. What’s your hurry, lovebirds? Darwin tromped on the accelerator, wheels spinning for a moment on the wet road, leaving tire patches as he raced after them.

Smart move on Rakkim’s part, speeding off after another fifteen-minute stop, a near surefire way to shake anyone tailing them. Anyone without a receiver. Darwin doubted that they knew he was following them, but it was a clever tactic. Just what he would have expected from Rakkim. That was the unique thing about this assignment…the challenge.

Not that his previous jobs had been without risk or difficulty. That was to be expected. That’s why the Old One used him. Darwin had once assassinated a powerful, liberal ayatollah within his own mosque, killed him as he was getting ready for dawn prayers. The ayatollah’s bodyguards and acolytes were just outside the door of his office when Darwin struck, the killing perfectly timed, the call of the muezzin drowning out the cleric’s dying groans. Darwin smiled, remembering how he had carved a Star of David on the ayatollah’s chest, the man still alive, struggling silently, his screams blocked by the head of a fetal pig Darwin had shoved into his mouth. It was those kinds of creative touches that Darwin took the most pride in. Oh, planning the operations was interesting, and the killings themselves were often done under perilous circumstances…but it was those jazzy little riffs that he remembered so fondly afterward.

Yes, when the time came to kill Rakkim, Darwin was going to make sure the method of his dying was worthy of the man. The girl…Sarah, she would have to figure in somehow. Was it turtle doves that mated for life? When one died, so did the other? Or was that just a story? Darwin accelerated, tires squealing around the curves, his hands loose on the wheel, steering with his fingertips. Most people thought that love was as close to immortality as we got in this corrupt and material world, but Darwin knew better. Love was the first tentative step into death, the toe-touch into the cold, infinite night. Darwin drove the curves, thinking of the way Rakkim and Sarah had clutched each other in the foyer of Marian Warriq’s house, one last touch before braving the dark. Rakkim and Sarah sitting in a tree…k-i-s-s-i-n-g. They could keep their love, sweet love. Darwin was going to live forever.

Darwin accelerated through the storm, heedless of the bad road, his goggles turning the darkness gold and glowing. The road dipped down into a series of switchbacks, and he was forced to slow, the beeping from the tracking device still faster now-Rakkim had obviously found a straightaway. Must have chosen that particular stretch of road to make his run. Should have known he had driven it before. Rain and leaves pelted the windshield, but the wipers swept it clear. He was tempted to discard the goggles and turn on his headlights, but Rakkim and Sarah would be looking back, looking to see if lights were following them. No, better to keep them guessing. The tracking device had a ten-mile range. They weren’t going to get away.

Darwin was driving a modified black Cadillac, a roomy, luxury sedan appropriate for his role as a real estate salesman, but the car had four-wheel drive and advanced steering and suspension. It handled like a race car. Darwin punched it down the slick road, exhilarated, tiny beads of sweat rimming the back of his ears. The car hit a pothole, but the heavy shocks absorbed the impact with barely a bump. Faster now, the road beginning to flatten out. The beeping from the receiver slowed slightly. He was gaining now. No danger of them outrunning the range of the unit. He intended to get close enough to see their red taillights and then back off.