team, the equipment they would need, the weapons and logistical supplies. “I’ll take operational charge, of course,” said Nicolas.
“No,” said Dragoumis. “I will.”
“Are you sure?” asked Nicolas anxiously. “You know we can’t guarantee your safety away from—”
“You think I’d miss this?” asked Dragoumis. “I’ve spent my whole life striving for this.”
“As you wish.”
“And good work, Nicolas. This is well done. This is very well done.”
“Thank you.” Nicolas had to wipe his eyes. It wasn’t often that his father congratulated him, but that only made it all the more special when he did. He ended the call and sat there in a glow. Then he shook his head sternly to refocus himself; this was no time to wallow. Nothing had been achieved yet, and it wouldn’t be unless he got busy. He rang his Cairo fixer, Gabbar Mounim, first.
“Yes?” asked Mounim. “I trust everything is to your satisfaction.”
“As always,” agreed Nicolas. “But there’s something else I’d like you to do for me. Two things, actually.”
“A pleasure.”
“Our mutual friend. I’d like him to summon his colleague Dr. Aly Sayed of Siwa Oasis to an emergency meeting.” If Sayed had deliberately hidden these books from Gaille, as Nicolas suspected, he must have made the connection, too, which meant they needed him out of Siwa while they went to work.
“How much of an emergency, exactly?”
“Tomorrow, if possible.”
Mounim sucked in a breath. “It won’t be easy, but I’ll see what I can do. And the other?”
“I don’t suppose you have influence at Alexandria’s Medical Center, do you?”
ELENA WAS DRIVING back into town when Nicolas called on her cell phone. “We need to meet,” he said. “How soon can you get to Alexandria?”
“For crying out loud, Nicolas, I’ve only just arrived here.”
“This can’t wait, Elena. Something’s happened. My father wants to discuss it with you.”
“Your father? He’s coming to Alexandria?”
“Yes.”
Elena breathed deep. Philip Dragoumis didn’t leave Northern Greece on a whim. If he was coming here, it had to mean something truly significant. “Fine,” she said. “Where?”
“Ibrahim’s villa.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock.”
“I’ll be there.” She snapped her phone shut, already making plans. Leave now and she could be there in time for a night with Augustin. “I’m needed back in Alexandria,” she told Gaille.
“Alexandria?” frowned Gaille. “Will you… be gone long?”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“You want me and the guys to start looking?”
Elena frowned. Gaille had a distressing habit of finding things without her help. “No,” she said. “Do nothing until I come back.”
“As you wish.”
“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME that Knox escaped you again?” asked Hassan incredulously when Nessim had completed his telephone report.
“He had a friend with him,” said Nessim.
“A friend?”
“We’ll find them,” said Nessim, striving to sound more bullish than he felt. His confidence had been shot by what happened. Having the tables turned so completely would do that to a man, as would a night spent struggling to escape from an outbuilding, or wandering half-naked across farmland with a wounded comrade. But, to Nessim’s surprise, the thing that had struck him deepest about the entire fiasco were Knox’s words about his lack of honor. Nessim was old enough and wise enough to know that insults didn’t hurt unless they rang true, and so now he couldn’t stop asking painful questions of himself: How had it come to this? What was he doing working for a man like Hassan? Was money really that important to him? “We’ll watch all his friends and associates,” he said. “We’ll put out another reward. It’s just a matter of time before we find him again.”
“So you keep telling me,” said Hassan.
“I’m sorry,” said Nessim. “He’s better at this than we imagined possible. But now we know. Now we’re prepared. Next time we’ll have him.”
“Next time? How can I be sure there’ll be a next time?”
“Another week. That’s all I ask.”
“Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fire you and hire him instead?”
“You’d have to find him first,” muttered Nessim beneath his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
There was a stony silence. Then, “I think it’s time we discussed this face-to-face, don’t you?”
“Face-to-face?” asked Nessim bleakly.
“Yes,” said Hassan. “Face-to-face.”
MOHAMMED WAS ASTONISHED to see Professor Rafai step out of the taxi and slam its door behind him. He had not expected to see Layla’s oncologist again, certainly not on his building site. “There is somewhere private?” demanded Rafai, trembling with anger.
“Private?”
“To talk.”
Mohammed frowned in bewilderment. “Now?”
“Of course now! You think I’m here to book an appointment?”
Mohammed shrugged and led Rafai to his cabin office.
“I don’t know how