Inside, it was like a garage attached to a cheap hotel room. The car sat on bare concrete, which ran right up to thin carpet, with a bed, table and a corner bathroom.

Another steel door was placed in the center of the wall. While Cade unloaded equipment, Zach wandered over and opened it. Cade didn’t say anything, or stop him. It opened into a fake office—a reception desk with a plastic palm tree. On the other side of the frosted glass was the front parking lot.

Zach went back into the room. There were toiletries in the closet-sized bathroom, including toothbrushes and toothpaste. The White House dental budget. Bigger than you’d expect, Griff said.

The phone rang.

“You expecting a call?” Zach asked.

Cade picked up the handset. “What?”

“Put me on speaker, the kid needs to hear this, too,” Griff said. He was used to Cade’s way of answering the phone.

Cade hit the button, and Griff’s voice, tired and rough, filled the room. Zach checked his watch, still set to D.C. time. Just before seven a.m. there, and it didn’t sound like Griff had spent any time sleeping.

“Here’s what we’ve got: the container was shipped by KSM Holdings, a Kuwaiti front company for a Saudi national.”

“Super,” Zach said. “Let’s send the CIA or someone to go talk to that guy.”

“Unfortunately, it’s never that simple,” Griff said. “The Saudi national is Mahmoud al-Attar.”

“Crap,” Zach said. Zach knew exactly who that was. Cousin of the current ruling family. Massively invested in Western businesses. Occasional visitor to the U.S., including diplomatic missions on behalf of his relatives. There was probably more than one photo of him shaking hands with the president.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cade said. “If he’s involved, he should be punished.”

“Slow down there, Cade, there’s more,” Griff said. “The front company—a shipping concern—is run by one of al-Attar’s sons. Kid is from the second or third wife, I forget which. Name’s Khaled al-Attar. Apparently he and his father aren’t close.”

“Then we can send the CIA to talk to him, right?” Zach asked.

“Oh, they’d like to. They’ve been looking for him for some time. Khaled has been a big contributor to Hamas, Islamic Jihad . . . basically anyone willing to strap on a suicide belt and run into a crowd. Here’s the problem: he’s off the map. Last intel report I can find says Khaled was getting impatient with the lack of progress in killing the infidel. He began moving toward a more mystic interpretation of Islam, including following Iblis.”

“Who’s Iblis?”

“The Devil,” Cade said. “In Islam, Iblis is the name of the Devil before he fell and became Shaitan.”

“According to our last report, Khaled felt that maybe this world belonged to Iblis, because it was so corrupt,” Griff said. “And the only way to cure that corruption would be to bring about the final battle between good and evil. It seems like he formed a group called Zulfiqar—named for a magic sword used at the battle of something or other. From there, he got deeper into black magic, rituals summoning demons, that sort of thing. This led our guys over there to label Khaled a whack job. They think he went off to a monastery to study religion or something.”

“And that’s when they lost track of him, I bet,” Zach said.

“Good guess.”

“Then we’ll find him ourselves. When he comes to Konrad,” Cade said.

Zach frowned. “Wait a second. Something about this doesn’t make sense. Konrad is a mad genius. Right? Emphasis on genius. Sending a container that can be so easily traced back to the source doesn’t sound all that smart to me.”

For a moment, the only sound was the static over the line on the speakerphone.

“Kid’s got a point,” Griff said.

Cade was unimpressed. “Are you suggesting Konrad has been framed somehow?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” Zach said. “You guys have your history, and that’s something, sure. But you might want to look into this a little deeper. Maybe we need to change our focus.”

“No,” Cade said flatly. “Konrad is involved. He’s the only one who can make the Unmenschsoldat process work.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“It’s a waste of time, Mr. Barrows.”

Cade seemed to think that ended it. Zach didn’t.

Zach rolled his eyes. “Get over yourself, will you? I can’t believe I’m telling the vampire and the secret agent this, but things aren’t always what they seem.”

Griff made a noise, over the speakerphone. “Might be worth considering the alternatives, Cade.”

“Where is that last shipment from KSM Holdings?” Cade demanded.

“Should arrive in L.A. tomorrow night,” Griff said.

“There’s no time for alternatives. Without Konrad, there will be no way for Khaled to use the creatures. This is the most direct solution.”

Griff paused. “I think Cade’s right,” he said.

“Whatever,” Zach said. “You’re the big frightening monster killers. You don’t need me, I’m going to get something to eat.”

Zach stalked away from the phone to the front of the garage.

“Take me off speaker, Cade.”

Zach went to the other side of the safe house. Cade put the phone to his ear.

“He’s really growing on you, isn’t he?” Griff said. Cade looked at his knuckles, still slightly bruised from where he’d punched dents in the car while seizing.

“He’s smarter than he appears,” Cade admitted. “What’s going on there?”

A heavy sigh over the line. “Wyman’s office called. He wants to see me. I get the impression he’s angry about the investigation, but I couldn’t tell you why,” Griff said.

“That’s another thing that doesn’t make sense,” Cade said. “The agents watching Konrad. Now Wyman wants to talk. Why are so many people so anxious to help Konrad?”

“I’ll look into it. In all my free time.”

Cade waited.

“I said I’ll look into it,” Griff said. “Don’t stand there with that creepy look on your face. I know you.”

“You’re in pain,” Cade said. “I need this information. Especially now that we’re looking at the possibility of an imminent attack. If you are not able to do this—”

“Don’t lecture me. I’ve got it under control. You just watch yourself and my replacement.”

Silence.

“He’s not replacing you,” Cade said.

Griff paused. “Oh, for God’s sake. Don’t get all cuddly on me now, Cade.”

He hung up.

Cade forgot his brief moment of sentimentality by the time the phone was back on the hook.

Zach walked back over to the phone, munching dry cereal out of the box.

“You think any more about what I said?”

“No,” Cade said. “We have a long day tomorrow. You should sleep.”

“Whatever.” Zach shrugged, and headed back for the hotel-room section of the safe house. He stopped, and faced Cade again.

“Hey,” he said. “If these things really are on their way here—I mean, you’ve fought them before?”

“One. I only fought one.”

“But you could take a group of them, right? I mean, that’s what you do. You could beat them, if it came to that.”

Cade didn’t reply.

“Cade?”

“It’s late, Mr. Barrows,” Cade said. “Get some sleep.”