I listened in disbelief to what Christine told me after she got off the phone with her tech guys. Had I really been so blind? Had I become fixated on Al-Farook; fixated on the agenda that he, or whoever he was working for, had sold me in those damn videos? It had never even crossed my mind that there was anything other than Islamic extremism going on. The idea that there was something more sinister happening couldn't have been further from my mind. I felt ashamed, not only that I had failed to spot what had been happening, but also that I had been only too eager to buy into the idea that another disgruntled Muslim kid was blowing up our streets. I felt pretty stupid, to be honest, but also strangely proud of Christine.

She wanted me to call Billman and explain the situation—I think she was trying to help me recover some shred of my credibility—but I insisted that she make the call. She deserved all the credit for this catch. From what I could hear of the conversation, it was clear that her boss was insisting that we go to Antwerp together. Even though my mind was focused on Al-Farook, there was room for a little pleasure at the thought of having Christine all to myself for a few days.

Christine hung up. “We leave for Belgium tonight. Billman is going to arrange a private plane for us—can you go to the airport as you are?”

I looked down at my outfit. I had my gun in my shoulder holster—that was all I needed. “I guess so. What about you? Don’t you need to pack?”

She shook her head. A woman who traveled light. Hallelujah!

I decided to call Warick from the car, to see if he had anything useful for me on the diamonds. It was late at night in the States, but he would still be awake. Sure enough, he answered after a couple of rings.

“Jason, my boy. How are you?”

“Good,” I replied. “Just checking if you have any thoughts on those photos I sent you?”

“What’s the rush? I’ve been at dinner all evening, but I can take a look now, if its urgent.”

“Not urgent, exactly. But it would be useful to get your insight before we leave.”

“Leave?” Warick asked casually.

“Yes, we have some intel on the next attack and we’re on our way there now.” I noticed Christine watching me oddly.

“How terrible,” Warick replied. “I do hope you manage to catch the little bastard. UK again, or is it back in the States?”

“Neither. Antwerp.” Out of the corner of my eye, I was sure I saw Christine shake her head. Warick laughed ironically.

“Antwerp. Diamonds. Makes sense! Well, good luck, Jason. I’ll let you know if I see anything useful in those snaps you sent me.”

Billman was waiting for us with papers for the Belgian authorities; they had been warned of our arrival, and were more than happy for the assistance, apparently. Interagency working was obviously much smoother in Europe than in the US.

The pilot nodded hello from the cockpit as we got on board and then closed the door, leaving Christine and me alone in the main cabin as we took off. She was quiet—even for her.

“Something wrong?” I asked. She smiled weakly.

“I just keep thinking about this guy. Al-Farook, or whatever his name is. Not only has he been made public enemy number one, but, clearly, whoever has him is treating him terribly. And this has been going on for almost three years!”

She suddenly looked over at me guiltily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

I moved to the seat next to her, ignoring the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. If you couldn’t ignore the rules on a private jet, when could you?

“I know what you meant. And you’re right. For years, I’ve treated this guy as a run of the mill terrorist. It would never even have crossed my mind to think of him as the victim. It took your fresh approach to help me see what I’ve been missing.”

Christine looked up, and I could see that those deep blue eyes were brimming with tears. Goddamn—the damsel in distress thing turned me on every time.

“You think he’s a victim?” she asked quietly.

“I’m afraid we have to consider that option,” I replied.

“That poor man,” Christine said, and I felt her move toward me. Was she seeking comfort or something more? I looked over at the cockpit, where the door remained resolutely closed. For all intents and purposes, we were alone up here.

I lifted Christine’s head from my shoulder and leaned in toward her, placing a soft kiss on her lips, then another. I waited, giving her the chance to draw away, to tell me to get lost — but she did neither. I kissed her again, and she responded.

We kissed passionately as I maneuvered her to a prone position on the small sofa where we had been sitting, before running my lips down her neck, delivering soft kisses here and there, and enjoying her gasps of pleasure. I lifted myself up on my arms so that I could look at her lying beneath me.

“Are you sure you want this?” There was a moment of hesitation, but then she nodded shyly, biting her lip as she did so. I felt myself begin to harden; it was always the shy, quiet ones that got me going.

I slowly peeled off her shirt, kissing the swell of her breasts, which were just as soft as I had imagined. She was wriggling out of her pants, but she seemed hesitant to take off my clothes. I gave her a hand with that, and soon we were lying in each other’s arms in just our underwear.

My cock was so hard now, and Christine gave me a shy smile when she saw it; as if she were surprised that she could excite a man to that extent. This girl really had no idea what she was doing to me—and that just made her even sexier.

I went back to kissing her and slipped a hand inside her panties. She moaned softly as my fingers ran over her sex, which was wet and ready for me. I roughly pulled down her underwear, kissing her hard as I slipped off my boxers.

Lifting myself up on my arms once more, I positioned myself, put on a condom I had set aside, and then slowly entered her. I wanted to see her face as she felt me slide inside her, and it was as beautiful as I’d imagined.

This was not yet making love; this was lust, pure and simple. The result of a day of sexual tension, a day of intense pressure. We both needed the release, and, boy, did we get it. Within just a few thrusts, I saw the telltale flush of red on her breasts and face which told me she was about to come; and when she started making louder noises of pleasure, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I reached my climax, too.

Afterwards, we lay on the cramped sofa, soaked in sweat. I went to kiss her but she pulled away awkwardly, grabbing her shirt from the floor to try and cover herself.

“What is it?” I asked confused, and a little worried. Was this not what she’d wanted?

“That was amazing, Jason. Thank you. But, well, I don’t know if it’s the best thing to do when we’re working together?”

Now a little embarrassed, I, too, started to pull on my clothes. I thought there was a real connection between me and this girl, and now she was giving me the brush-off?

But as I sat in my own seat for the rest of the flight, I thought about what she’d said. Perhaps she was right. Neither of us needed the distraction while we were hunting Al-Farook—or whoever had been pulling his strings all this time. I watched her staring out of the window as we came in to land in Antwerp.

There would be plenty of time after we caught Al-Farook.