The man was a marvel of concentration, his hands pale where he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road as he wove in and out of traffic. Abdullah’s heart beat more rapidly as he thought about the possibility of finding them. Dan’s car at Biltagi Brothers’, Faisal’s accusations—none of it mattered now. In his days with Ghassan, Abdullah had felt jealousy and anger slipping away from him, felt his very self disintegrate in the homes of Ghassan’s people, where he was only another Abdullah. To them, Baylani was just a word they saw on buildings, on ships. Here, it was no longer about possession or power. It was about survival, his family’s and his. Did he want to see Rosalie again? The answer was yes. The answer was always yes.“We’ve wasted our time in those Hofuf alleyways,” Ghassan said. “All this time, they’ve been at Wisoum.” He shook his head. “How did you say your daughter discovered their location?”“Her blog. Someone wrote on her blog.”“Eighteen years as a police detective and now a computer can do my job.
