The Egyptian (32 page)

“Then what happened?” Viktor had asked.

“A curious thing,” the detective had said.

Somehow, Nomti had been appointed chief of security at a private company. The name of the company was New Cellular Technologies.

G
rey left the hotel in a foul mood. When Viktor arrived, Grey introduced him to Veronica and left them in the lounge. Veronica wished Grey a cold good luck and picked up a newspaper, leaving him standing beside her chair feeling foolish.

Had he not said a proper goodbye? Viktor had been standing there, and Grey hadn’t known what to say.

Jax and Stefan met him by the door, and Jax put an arm around Grey’s shoulder as they started walking. Stefan fell into step behind them.

Grey’s eyes roamed the streets. “How far’s this place?”

Jax said, “You look even more serious than usual. Trouble in paradise? She’s a feisty one, for sure.”

“She’s a good person,” Grey mumbled.

“A good person? Are you a monk, also? Shaolin maybe? Did you take a vow of blindness? She’s hot as shit is what she is. And she thinks you built the pyramids single-handedly, if you know what I mean.”

“She really doesn’t.”

“Oh, but she does. I tried to cozy up to her last night—sorry about that—and you’d think I was wearing a Nazi uniform and sprouting horns. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. But hell, who can say what moves one man and what moves another?” He removed his arm and cracked his knuckles. “It’s a bastard thing, love.”

The conversation had the subtle edge of impending danger, frivolous words tossed about to lessen tension. The problem was, it wasn’t lessening Grey’s tension. He picked up the pace. He soon saw a sign with Arabic lettering, an arrow and a depiction of a cemetery. “That’s the way?” he said, and Jax clicked his tongue.

They entered the bedlam of Islamic Cairo. Grey cringed at the crowded streets, so narrow the tops of the three and four story contiguous buildings on either side of the mazelike alleyways almost met at the top, blocking the sun. Someone could slip a knife in their backs anytime they wanted. Grey kept his hands at the ready and his eyes on ferret-like alert.

They moved through the enormous bazaar, wares and trinkets of every imaginable kind hanging from doorways and windows. Poles strung with carpets and silks stretched across the alleys, casting the quarter into even more shadow. The smell of spice and sheesha mingled with the acrid sizzle of fried offal. An endless stream of vendors called out to them as they passed, beckoning them into shadowy interiors, offering tea with grimy hands and obsequious smiles.

The teeming commerce gradually gave way, replaced by even narrower streets and even more decrepit buildings, although Grey hadn’t thought either was possible. The stench of trash and raw sewage replaced the intoxicating spices, the shrewd faces on the streets turned grim.

“Almost there,” Jax said. “Ever been to the City of the Dead?”

“No.”

“It’s more of this, with tombstones. A big sprawling ghetto in a cemetery. Five cemeteries, actually, that run together.”

They walked for another fifteen minutes, deeper into the slums, and then passed under the shadow of a huge complex Jax pointed out as The Citadel. They reached the end of an alleyway, followed Jax to the right, and then Grey caught his breath.

Jax had not done it justice. Stretching into the lingering dusk as far as Grey could see, thousands of shanties and mud-brick dwellings rose out of a sea of tombs, many of the decrepit homes built literally within the crypts and mausoleums, life and death interwoven in Dickensian frenzy.

•  •  •

Veronica watched Grey leave with mixed emotions. The twinge of unease in her stomach grew stronger the further away he walked. She debated returning to her room, but her shot nerves were even worse when she was by herself.

She started to order a drink, then decided against it. Alcohol would just make her start thinking about what Nomti did to her in her apartment, or that scene out of a horror movie in Stefan’s lab, or the thing she saw in the park outside her window
.

God, Veronica, get a hold of yourself. It was put there to scare me, and nothing more.

But what the hell was under those bandages?

These people and this foreign place will not get to me.
Grey is going to find that monster that was about to rape me. He’ll find him and kill him. We’ll find the test tube, the police will arrest the entire twisted company, and I’ll go home and write the story and my life will change forever. I can almost taste it, like the edge of a chocolate soufflé waiting to be bit into.

He’ll change, too. I’ll play so hard to get I’ll drive him insane. It’s easy, it’s just a game. I’m going to win, and he’ll never even know I was playing.

Why am I even thinking like this? Love isn’t real. Nature is playing me, pulling the marionette strings, and I deny her fascist rule right this very second.

•  •  •

They picked their way through the City of the Dead, Grey still in disbelief that so many people lived in a cemetery. The life of the residents had adapted to the environment: clotheslines were strung between crypts, gravemarkers served as tables and chairs, overflowing sewage tanks sat inside open vaults.

They walked for a long time, until the number of habitants dwindled. They passed a few junkies hunched over tombstones or sitting in piles of rubbish, and then they were alone in the semi-darkness. Light from a gibbous moon reflected off the crypts with a strange blue glow.

Jax pointed at a Mosque-shaped mausoleum a hundred yards ahead. “That’s the one.”

“This is where Dorian does business?” Stefan said, his eyes a bit wild.

“Dorian’s a very careful man.

They started forward, then Jax put a hand on Stefan’s chest. “Better if you wait here. I don’t want to spook Dorian. I’ll ease the way and call for you.”

When they were halfway to the mausoleum Grey noticed a patch of white, brighter than the dulled stone of the mausoleum. As they drew closer Grey realized it was a dinner jacket, and the man wearing it was sitting on a small ledge with his arms folded, his back against the wall of the mausoleum.

“There’s my boy,” Jax said, and Grey heard the click of a safety. “Just in case,” Jax said.

They were twenty feet away, and Dorian still hadn’t acknowledged their presence. Dorian was a huge man, his crossed arms stretching the fabric of his suit. Grey didn’t see anyone else; he assumed Dorian had bodyguards in place nearby. “Evening,” Jax called out.

They took a few more steps towards him, and then Grey stopped moving. He had noticed two things at the same time. “Jax,” he said quietly. “Look down.”

Jax looked down, his eyes widening at the tiny red dot in the center of his chest that matched the one on Grey.

“Fuck,” Jax said.

A slew of men rose from behind the tombstones surrounding the mausoleum, all carrying handguns with laser sights. Jax dropped his gun and put his palms out, and Grey swore to himself as he continued staring in morbid fascination at the second thing he had noticed: the way Dorian’s head lolled too far forward, his chin resting against his chest as if asleep.

Grey heard footsteps approaching from behind. He could do nothing as rough hands grabbed him, and then pain exploded in the back of his head.

•  •  •

Veronica glanced over at Viktor. He was watching the front entrance, but not with the scary intensity Grey would. Viktor was gazing like his mind was elsewhere. His somber black suit and imposing frame looked out of place among the gaggle of brightly colored, chittering tourists.

He had a calming presence about him, an air of professorial control and hidden knowledge. At another time that might have annoyed her, but now she was glad for it.

He ordered and handled his wine like someone who came from money, even though he had barely touched it. He had ordered it out of good manners to the hotel—another sign of wealth.

She might as well pry while they waited. “Grey mentioned that he met you while working on a case in Zimbabwe?”

Viktor tilted his head to look at her. “That’s right.”

“He said the case almost killed you and Grey. Wasn’t there a girl involved as well, that he was seeing?”

“Nya Mashumba. Our local liaison.”

“I knew it,” Veronica muttered. “What kind of case was it?”

Viktor smiled thinly. Before he could answer, they both noticed someone approaching the hotel at a fast clip. The person drew closer, and she saw that it was Stefan.

“That’s strange,” Veronica said. “Why is he alone?”

V
eronica knew something was wrong. Stefan was walking too fast, hunched too far over, glancing from side to side. She slipped out of her chair and met him as he walked into the hotel. One look at his face and her stomach went into freefall.

“Is Grey—”

“My room,” Stefan said without breaking stride, his accent thicker than normal.

They took the stairs to the third floor. As soon as they entered Stefan’s room he punched the wall and started muttering in Bulgarian. Veronica tried to calm him, but he shrugged her off. The shaken composure of the normally even-keeled Stefan frightened her. “Where’re Grey and Jax? Stefan! Calm down and tell us what’s going on.”

Viktor was watching in silence. Stefan put a hand on the wall, and Veronica noticed it was trembling. His nostrils flared as he took deep breaths. “When we arrived at the meeting place, Jax asked me to wait behind. He didn’t want to startle the contact with too many people.”

Veronica’s voice rose. “Stefan, where are they? Are they injured?”
Oh God, if anything had happened to Grey
…

“I watched them walk to the contact. The contact was sitting down, his back against a crypt. He never moved. I believe he was dead. I knew something was wrong, and I—I couldn’t move. I should have run to them.”

“
What happened
?”

“Many men with guns rose up from the tombs and surrounded them. Someone hit Grey on the head, and he collapsed.”

Veronica covered her mouth with her hand. She felt light, disembodied. Stefan’s next words floated away from her.

“Jax put his hands over his head and someone hit him too. That’s all I saw.” He looked away. “I ran. I found a taxi and asked him to stop five blocks away to make sure I wasn’t followed.”

“You gave them a chance by coming here,” Viktor said. “There was nothing you could’ve done.”

Stefan slumped to the floor. Veronica heard the words leave her mouth, but she didn’t feel them. “Do you think that they’re… that Grey is…”

“No. I believe they wanted to capture them.”

Veronica felt a flood of emotion pour through her, and she bit down on her lip when she started to sob. She knew in that moment, with the certainty of the heart, that she loved him. She loved him and he might be gone.

Viktor’s heavy brow was creased, but his voice held steady. “Come,” he said. “It’s not safe here. Grey or Jax might be carrying something that could identify the hotel.” Viktor helped Stefan to his feet. “We’re going to the police.”

•  •  •

No one said a word in the taxi. Veronica felt ill as Viktor led them through the front entrance of the police station and asked for Detective Kassem. Viktor showed his card and stressed that it was an emergency, although it was unclear if anyone understood what he was saying.

After an interminable wait a handsome plain-clothes detective entered through the front door, spotted Viktor, and curled his finger. He led them to his office, and Stefan relayed the events again.

Detective Kassem tapped his pen. “Did you see Mr. Haddara or Mr. Qasem at the cemetery?”

“Who?”

“Al-Miri and Nomti,” Viktor said.

Stefan spit his words. “The short man was there. He hit Grey with his gun.”

The detective frowned and picked up the phone. He dialed and had a lengthy conversation in Arabic which included an abundance of hand-waving. When the conversation was over he replaced the receiver. “Egyptian police take assaults against Americans very serious, and this man has police record. Your statement is sufficient for us to visit these men and ask question. You need to come with me to make identification. According to your story, it was dark, and you were far. Perhaps these businessmen are not the men you see.”

•  •  •

With every passing minute Veronica felt Grey slipping further away, as if she were having a nightmare and they were in a dark water, his fingers just outside her grasp, floating into the void.

The detective asked them to wait again, and disappeared. When he returned his face was troubled. He announced that they could find no listed home address for either Mr. Haddara or Mr. Qasem. He said this was very strange, and that perhaps their residence was attached to the corporation. “Come,” he said. “We will visit this New Cellular Technologies. Right now.”

Detective Kassem drove them through the swirl of Cairo at night, the lights and traffic and noise and people even more intense than in the daytime. Veronica couldn’t deal with both the stress of losing Grey and racing through the insanity of Cairo. She wanted the entire city to stop moving.

Corporate headquarters for New Cellular Technologies was a two-story concrete building set amidst a dense urban forest of identical buildings. They walked to the front door and the detective rang the bell and pounded on it. He kept pounding until an elderly security guard with sleep-filled eyes opened the door. The detective spoke to him in a harsh voice, and the guard’s eyes widened. He ushered them inside.

After a brief conversation the detective turned to Viktor. “No one more is here tonight. No one entered the building after the close. I go to search. You may follow.”

The detective led them through the faded corridors and empty cubicles of a typical office building. “I don’t like this,” Viktor said. “There should be more security.”

Veronica’s heart sank lower with each footstep. The building was empty, and the offices had the stale feel of unimportance. They returned to the ground floor, and the guard led them to a set of stairs. They descended and found themselves in a warehouse-sized laboratory. The detective started walking around the room. Viktor floated off on his own, and Veronica followed Stefan as he inspected the equipment.