Bramo nodded.
"And," Victor said, "have Bennett look into Rifat Assad's assets. He owns properties in Europe, has accounts in Switzerland, and companies in London. Find out the details, organize them, and send them to the French, British, and Swiss. Let them see who is living in their piggy banks."
He paused.
"This isn't a threat. It's a reminder."
Early the next morning, Golan Heights, Lake Tiberias Floating Bridge.
The sun hadn't risen yet, and the mist was thick over the water.
Sanchez stood in the middle of the bridge, looking at the white tents on the east end. There were already quite a few people sitting under the tents, the same faces as yesterday, old people, women, and children. The woman named Miriam sat at the front, holding a baby in her arms, with the child who had held the sign sitting next to her. The child wasn't holding the sign today; he had a flower, a wild one, yellow, not sure where he picked it from.
