"This place looks like a Vegas casino, only chintzier. Way over the top," Ronnie said.
Nick looked up at the chandelier. "At least it's not all pyramids and pharaohs."
"Would you rather be in a hostel somewhere?" Selena asked sweetly. "Maybe a tent out on the desert?"
Ronnie held up his hands in protest. "Hey, I'm not complaining."
"It is a little overdone," Selena said, "but it will be comfortable."
"Comfort is good," Nick said.
The rooms were on the fifth floor. Nick and Selena took a suite. Ronnie was in a single room down the hall.
The central sitting area of the suite featured a desk, mini bar, couch and chairs. The room looked out over a pool surrounded by tables shaded by palm thatched umbrellas. A long, thatched bar with wooden stools added to the generic resort feel. Beyond the pool was the Mediterranean. The hotel could as easily have been in the Pacific or the Caribbean as in the Middle East. Past the pool, a white sand beach crowded with sunbathers gleamed in the sun. The fear of terrorist attacks wasn't making much of an impact here.
Nick stood at the window looking out at the scene. "Lot of people out there. I don't see any Westerners, just locals."
Ronnie and Selena joined him.
"What about him?"
Selena pointed at a cadaverous man sitting at the bar wearing a tan suit and a brimmed hat.
"He looks like that movie actor, what's his name," Ronnie said. "You know, the guy that played in those black and white horror movies."
"Boris Karloff," Nick said.
"That's him."
Selena sat down on the couch.
Nick sat down next to her.
Selena said, "They get sandstorms here, don't they?"
"They get them in Cairo, they must get them here."
"Big ones?"
"I suppose so. Why?"
"It would explain why no one has noticed what we're looking for. Sand could have covered it up."
"If it's buried we'll never find it."
Ronnie looked at his watch.
"Must be time to eat."
"Not yet, amigo," Nick said. He held up a hotel brochure from the coffee table in front of the couch. "Says here the restaurant doesn't open for another two hours."
"There are snacks on top of the mini bar," Selena said.
Ronnie went over to the mini bar and picked up a tiny package of cashews. Prices were listed in Egyptian pounds.
"Sixty pounds. How much is that in dollars?"
"An Egyptian Pound is worth about twelve or thirteen cents," Selena said. "So that bag of nuts is a little less than eight dollars."
"Eight bucks for a dozen nuts." Ronnie shook his head. He picked up a small plastic bottle of water. "Water is a deal, only fifty pounds."
"Not much different from anywhere else," Nick said. "Did you ever find a mini bar where things were cheap?"
"Come to think of it, no."
Ronnie took a package of nuts from the rack. He opened the door of the refrigerator and took out a Coke.
"I'll have one of those," Nick said.
Ronnie tossed him a can. Nick popped the tab and the soda sprayed out over him.
"Damn it, Ronnie."
Selena smothered a laugh. "When do we head out to the ruins?"
"Tomorrow morning. I was thinking around eight."
"Cool. We'll have time for breakfast," Ronnie said.
That night Nick and Selena lay in bed. A gentle breeze that smelled of seaweed and saltwater came through the open windows on the balcony. A silvery moon cast soft light into the darkened room.
Selena lay with her head on Nick's shoulder, her arm stretched across his chest.
"It's almost like a vacation," she said.
"When was the last time we had a vacation?"
"That's easy. We haven't. Every time we try, something happens and we get called back."
"When this mission is over, we have to take time off. I'm getting burned out."
"Me too." After a moment she said, "Do you think what we do makes a difference in the long run?"
"The way our so-called world leaders run things? I doubt it. I'll settle for the short term."
"I'm starting to wonder if it's worth it," Selena said.
"Thinking about what we do reminds me of a song."
"Which one?"
"The Thrill is Gone. B.B. King."
"He was singing about a lover, not a job."
"Whatever."
Nick turned on his side to face her.
"I'll tell you one thing."
"What's that?"
He kissed her. "When I look at you, the thrill is definitely not gone."
They didn't talk much after that.
CHAPTER 18
Vysotsky summoned Valentina. Coming into his office, she saw a half empty glass of vodka on his desk. This early in the morning it meant trouble.
"Valentina. You are looking lovely, as usual. Sit."
Vysotsky gestured at a chair near his desk. She sat.
"It will interest you to know the FSB has taken an interest in your sister."
"My sister? She is in Russia?"
"No. She's in Egypt. Volkov has sent people after her."
"Why?"
"She has a map he wants. Volkov sent three of his agents to America in an attempt to get it. His operatives underestimated your sister's skills."
"She killed them?"
"She did. Now he has a problem. She will be on full alert but it's not enough to make Volkov back off. Sending agents to Egypt means he's determined to get the information from her any way he can."
Valentina affected indifference. "What has this got to do with me?"
"Oh, please, Valentina. Don't pretend you don't care, I know you too well. Your sister is important to you. You demonstrated that in Vienna and Germany."
"She is our enemy. I can't help our blood relationship. I admit, I think about her sometimes."
"That is only natural. If I thought the situation in any way compromised your loyalty, we would not be having this kind of conversation."
The unspoken threat was clear.
Vysotsky continued. "I will be truthful with you. I don't know why this map is important to Volkov but I will not let him have it. I am sending you to Egypt. Try to find out why she is there."
"What if Volkov's men do something stupid?"
"Do not intervene unless it can't be avoided. However, Volkov must not have an opportunity to question her."
"Am I authorized to use lethal force?"
"Did I say that? Use your best judgment."
He's covering his ass, in case somebody is listening. But he's not covering mine.
"Understood."
"Harker's people are staying at a hotel on the Mediterranean coast. You are leaving this afternoon. Do you want backup?"
"You know I work better on my own."
"I thought you would say that."
Vysotsky opened a drawer, took out a flat package and pushed it across the desk at her. He ticked off the contents on his fingers.
"Your tickets and hotel reservation. Location of the hotel where the Americans are staying. A car reservation at the airport. Money, Egyptian and American. Your passport."
"Who am I supposed to be?"
"You are a representative of a Moscow travel agency seeking new destinations for your clients."
"Weapons?"
"A package will be waiting for you in your hotel room."
"Will the Egyptians know I'm there?"
"No."
"Good."
"Do you have any questions?"
"Do you want me to question my sister if there's an opportunity?"
"I want you to stay away from her."
"Something could happen that makes it necessary."
Vysotsky looked at her. "Make sure it doesn't."
CHAPTER 19
At the desk of the hotel, the clerk gave them directions to the ruins and assured them it was safe to visit because the government had posted guards for the protection of tourists.