This was, after all, the country of Napoleon, who had once dominated all of Europe. In less than a century they had gone from one of the world's pree… - Consent to Kill

"Waheed? Rashind said in utter disbelief. "That cannot be. He is dead."
"He is now," Tayyib said, not trying to be funny.

Who's your friend?
Coleman started to answer, and then McMahon put his and out and cut him off. "Never mind," the agent said. "I don't want to know. Do I?"
Coleman shrugged. "It wasn't like I was going to give you his real name."

He was wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a black Mountain Hard-wear fleece jacket. He had a large black rubber dive watch on his right wrist, his hair was dark and shaggy, and although he was a good seventy-five pounds lighter than the FBI agent, McMahon had no doubt the little scrapper could kill him without breaking a sweat. This guy was Special Forces from head to toe.