Kabul. In an upscale, spotless Western restaurant, spacious and brightly lit, with long, soothing music playing, the rapid clatter of keyboard keys rang out. Coulson pushed open the restaurant's glass doors, stopping the waiter who came forward to serve him. He gestured that he was meeting someone inside and headed straight toward the back of the restaurant. Behind a distinctive corner pillar, he found He-El, dressed in a formal suit, tall and broad, with a hard, open face and an extraordinary bearing, typing on a laptop.