up shop. Joe was no longer there, but Novak appeared to be just as busy as when she’d left. She hesitated at the door.
“Stop dithering,” Novak said without looking up from his computer. “Yes, I did contact Nassem, and he’ll be at Kimbro’s apartment in thirty minutes. Satisfied?”
“Yes, you did the best you could.” She came into the hut. Hajif had only managed to produce the one small bench where Novak was sitting for the makeshift office, but there were colorful blankets placed around the hut against the walls. Jill dropped down on one of the blankets and leaned back against the wall. “And it might not even be necessary. He was pretty sure he wasn’t followed.”
“But he’s your friend.” Novak’s voice was without expression. “And with you, that means commitment and, therefore, possible inconvenience for me. I’m beginning to become accustomed to it.”
“Poor you.” She grinned. “Where’s Quinn?”
“He received a call from his son. He wanted privacy.”
“And probably to ensure that he not reveal a softer side to you,” she said. “That’s reserved for Eve and company.” She took out her phone. “What other calls do you want me to make now that we’ve nailed down the security tapes?”
“You can call Gideon and see if he’s made any contacts in Zahra Kiyani’s august household yet.”
“Busywork?”
“Maybe. You seem to be a little edgy. But useful busywork. Gideon sometimes gets carried away and goes in depth with any project. He needs structure.”
“He’s brilliant. You’re lucky to have him.”
“But I don’t have him, that’s my point. No one has him. He might go off in any direction if it pleases him. But he might be less likely to stray from the path if you’re around.”
“I’m not his guardian.” She added slyly, “If that’s what you want, then I should have gone with him.”
“That’s not what I want,” he said flatly. “And you know it. Stay away from Zahra. Just check on Gideon. If nothing else, it will keep your mind off Kimbro.”
“Busywork,” she repeated. But she still dialed Gideon’s number. No answer. She tried it again. In the middle of the ring, she got another call.
Kimbro.
She quickly pressed accept. “Are you in your apartment?”
“Locking the door now. Happy?”
“Moderately. Herb Nassem, a CIA operative, will be picking up the security tapes in about twenty minutes. Don’t give them to anyone else.”
“Can I ply him with liquor and see if I can talk him into telling me why those tapes are so important?”
“No, he has no idea. You weren’t followed?”
“No. Not even that guy in the restaurant. He never stirred from that table when I got in the cab.” He paused. “All kidding aside, you’re not getting into anything over your head? I’m here for you if you are. Iron Man is my middle name. You don’t need to get involved with these CIA guys. They can be trouble.”
“Tell me about it,” she said dryly. He might still want the story, but she was touched anyway. “I’ll call you if I need to ditch them. But I hear Nassem is reliable. If he wants to pull you out of there, go with him.”
“If you insist…and promise to keep in touch.”
“Absolutely. When Nassem gets there, let me know. Thanks, Kimbro.” She cut the connection and looked up to see Novak gazing at her. “He says he wasn’t followed and that CIA can be trouble. I agree. But I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt if this Nassem comes through.” She grinned. “Probably not you. You’re too far gone.”
“Definitely.” He tilted his head. “You’re relieved.”
“So far. I’ll feel better once Kimbro gives the tapes to your guy. He should be there in another twenty minutes. I want this over.”
Novak nodded and turned back to his calls. “It sounds as if you’ve got it covered.”
“I hope I do.” She started to dial Gideon again. “I couldn’t reach Gideon before. While I’m waiting for Kimbro’s call, I’ll try him again…”
* * *
But it wasn’t over in twenty minutes.
No call from Kimbro.
It didn’t mean anything, Jill told herself. Nassem could have been stuck in traffic or something. Cairo was always a traffic nightmare…
Another fifteen minutes.
No call.
She started to dial Kimbro.
It went to voice mail.
Shit.
Her hand was shaking as she started to punch in the number again.
“I’ve already tried him twice,” Novak said quietly.
She went still. “What?”
“Nassem always has orders to call his superior, Karim Absar, when he makes contact with the subject. He was on his way up in the elevator after he reached the apartment building when