Rakkim sat at the table on the inside wall of the downtown restaurant, just as the message on his cell had suggested. The early-dinner crowd of beardless moderns had returned to their jobs in the high-rises, the conservatives had left for sunset prayers, but the restaurant was still busy, voices bouncing off the raw brick interior. If he and Sarah could be seen in public together, they might have gone to this kind of place, relaxed and fun and with a good mix of people. His phone beeped. Another call from Colarusso, the third since Rakkim had run into Anthony Jr. last night. Colarusso was either calling to berate him for recommending Anthony Jr. to the Fedayeen, or inviting him to Sunday dinner. Either way, Rakkim thought it was best not to respond.

A waitress approached, and Rakkim was grateful for the distraction. She was tricked out in a knee-length, blue velvet dress and plaid stockings, her hair piled into a tight beehive. She bent down, rested her elbows on the table. “You’ll want to pick up your menu and point to things, handsome.” Her nametag read Carla.

Rakkim had never seen her before. The only one of Spider’s children he ever had contact with was Elroy. Carla looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, a big-boned girl with a soft face and a button nose that didn’t suit her. She had her father’s eyes. All the kids did. Hard and dark and alert-she might carry around a touch pad to write customers’ orders, but it was just for show. She probably kept an encyclopedia in her frontal lobes and could call up any page you wanted. Rakkim studied the menu.

“He’s still working on the memory cores you gave him,” said Carla, her hand on the back of his chair, “but he pulled up the mail from the Mecca Café that you wanted.”

“Great. I’m not expecting much from the memory cores anyway.”

“Shows how much you know.” Carla put a hand on his shoulder, flirting, a trademark of any establishment geared to moderns-it brought in tips and it kept the fundamentalists away. “Spider said the one from the university computer is wiped clean, but the core from her home unit is interesting.”

Rakkim pointed at one of the options on the menu. “Interesting how?”

Carla swayed to music only she could hear. “I don’t know…he’s still working on it. I haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.”

Rakkim stared at the menu. “Tell me about the mail from the café.”

Carla moved closer, one finger sliding across the menu. She smelled of sweet onions and french fries. “Last Friday, seven twenty-two A.M. Short exchange. No formalities. LEAVE NOW, that was the first thing. All capital letters, which is kind of old-fashioned, if you ask me.” Carla acted as if he had made a joke, tugged playfully at his goatee. She kept her mouth down while she spoke, no line of sight to the rest of the room. “Then Sarah said, I can’t. The first person responded, NOW. RIGHT AFTER CLASS. DANGER. Still with the all-caps. Then Sarah said, I’m meeting him Sunday. I have to see him.” Carla looked at him, smiled, and it wasn’t because she thought someone might be watching. “That’s you, isn’t it? You’re the him she was talking about. This Sarah was tough, wanting to keep her appointment with you, even after being warned to leave. She must have thought you were worth something.” She swayed to the music again. “Then the first person said, LEAVE NOW, and there was a long interval, maybe twenty seconds, and then Sarah said, okay.” Carla pointed at the list of specials on the wall. “That’s it, over and out.”

“Does Spider have any idea who mailed her…or where it came from?”

Carla shook her head. “Whoever it was, they used a series of unregistered servers. They bounced him all over the globe, but he thinks the point of origination is someplace in the Islamic Republic.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I turn eighteen in three months. Ripe as a plum and never been plucked.” The tip of her tongue slid across her teeth. “Spider’s open to marriage proposals, but I’ve got the final say, so that puts you ahead of the game.”

Rakkim looked up at her. “What game is that?”

“Just keep it in mind. Sounds like your girlfriend isn’t coming back.” Carla scrawled something on her pad and sauntered off. Her hips drew plenty of attention from the foursome at a nearby table.

Rakkim swirled the ice in his water glass before taking a drink. Carla might be right about Sarah not coming back. He crunched through an ice cube. Why didn’t she go to Redbeard if she felt threatened? Why didn’t she go to him?

A young couple walked down the sidewalk, moderns in blue unisex suits, zippers everywhere, hair cropped an inch from their scalps. Probably in advertising or marketing, judging from the black plastic portfolio cases they swung, chatting away. A Black Robe watched them from the far side of the street, speaking into a cell phone as they passed.

Rakkim turned at the sound of laughter from a nearby table, and when he looked back outside, the Black Robe was gone. He played with the silverware, thinking about Sarah’s mail conversation, and wondering who had the power to order her to leave so abruptly. Even more, who had the authority to make her comply?

Carla came back with his cheeseburger, fries, and vanilla Jihad Cola. “There was one other exchange two weeks before the one on Friday. Very brief. The first person said, BE CAREFUL. BE READY. Then Sarah said, Can I tell him? NO. Please? said Sarah, but the answer was the same.”

“Sarah said please? You’re sure of that?”

“Don’t insult me.” Carla slapped the check onto the table. “Spider will let you know when he finds out more. Remember what I told you before-three months and counting. I come with a dowry, but, trust me, after our wedding night you won’t even care.”

Rakkim watched her walk away as he dredged a french fry through a pool of ketchup. Sarah had a hard time listening to anybody, but she had obeyed the person on the other end of the mail, even begging for the chance to see Rakkim again. There was no way to tell if the person she was in contact with was male or female, but Rakkim found himself burning with jealousy. Sarah asking for permission to see him…it was as if she were talking to a father, or a husband. He started in on the burger, barely tasting it.

Carla hustled back to the table, refilled his water. She was chewing gum now, really working it. “You have to leave.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” There was no trace of her prior flirtatiousness. “Get up after I leave and head toward the bathroom. Elroy’s there. Spider needs to talk with you.”

“I’m meeting Spider?”

She champed away at her gum. “Smile, nod your head.”

Rakkim did as he was told, holding up the burger for emphasis. “I didn’t think Spider allowed direct contact with clients.”

“This is a first.”

“What’s going on, Carla?”

She blew a big pink bubble, popped it with a fingernail. “Spider pulled something off that memory core. It must have been something really special.” She strolled off, started bantering with the two moderns at the next table.