Akmal parked the van next to a beige-colored sedan in the large garage attached to the townhouse. He used the connecting door to enter the kitchen, followed closely by Shakil and Wabu. They half-dragged, half-carried a frightened Isabela between them. Her hands were bound and duct tape covered her mouth.
“Take her down to the basement,” he told them. “Make sure that she’s well fed and get her cleaned up.”
He entered the dining area where the other four members of the team were poring over blueprints spread out over the large table.
“How’s it coming?” he asked them in Arabic.
“Not so good,” Mosa replied in the same language. He was a structural engineer with a degree from Caltech.
Frustrated, Akmal asked, “What’s the problem?”
“Our original plan just won’t work,” Mosa replied. “Maraca
