4

When Jack got back home the first thing he did was call Ed Burkes at the UK Mission to the UN for an update. Jack had done a fix-it for the UK mission there a few years ago and so he'd asked Burkes for help. Ed had been shocked to hear about Jack's father. He'd promised to do anything he could to help Jack get a line on the Wrath of Allah.

But Burkes had nothing. His buddies in MI-5 were as baffled as everybody else. None of their contacts in the Arab world had ever heard of the Wrath of Allah.

Jack slowly, grudgingly was reaching the point where he had to admit that international terrorism might be out of his league. Way out. Not that he wouldn't take on a roomful of them if given the chance. But the chance part seemed a dead end. Like chasing smoke. These Islamic nuts didn't frequent the bars and clubs where Jack's contacts hung. They weren't out and about, drinking too much, shooting their mouths off. How do you get a line on crazies who cluster in tight, insular, incestuous knots of fanaticism?

He thanked Burkes and hung up.

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