It was the story of a criminal who was so skilled at his craft that the highest power in the land had no choice but to recognize his abilities and herald him as a hero.
Most people saw the tale through the eyes of the pharaoh: a powerful man who came to terms with his own limitations and was gracious enough to forgive and forget.
But Hassan identified with the thief who had outwitted a king.
Beyond the mural, two luxurious sitting rooms flanked a wide hallway trimmed in ebony and sandalwood — a corridor that led into the bowels of the mansion. Hassan had never been one to shy away from the finer things in life, even if the opulence might draw attention. He had built his empire from nothing, and he was determined to enjoy the spoils of war. His home reflected that philosophy.
Kamal and Tarek were still hungry, but now they wanted information, not poultry. They wanted to know more about the mysterious woman who had outrun them two days earlier. They wanted to know why she was in town, what connections she had, and who else had aided her escape. But before they could proceed with their investigation, they had to report to Hassan. His desire to know everything that happened in his territory even extended to the actions of his own men.
Gahiji Awad, Hassan’s personal bodyguard, met them at the door. ‘The timing of your call was fortunate. He’s been waiting to hear from you.’
He turned and led them into the house.
Neither Kamal nor Tarek was particularly fond of Awad, not only for his arrogance, but also his skill set. Standing just over five and a half feet in height, the diminutive bodyguard should have presented little challenge in a fight. At least, that’s what they had first believed. Despite his muscular frame, they dwarfed this tiny man by several inches and several pounds. They should have been able to crush his bones into powder.
But it would take more than brute force to defeat him.
The one and only time that Kamal and Tarek had physically challenged Awad, it had almost cost them their lives. Using a form of martial arts that the larger men had never thought possible, Awad had devastated them with a series of moves that bordered on superhuman. In the end, Kamal had three broken fingers, a dislocated hip, a separated shoulder, and three cracked vertebrae.
And he was the lucky one.
For weeks after the fight, Tarek couldn’t pee standing up.
It was the last time they had confronted him.
Awad guided them to the rear wing of the property to Hassan’s office. It was a magnificent space decorated with the finest Egyptian antiquities. Its warm, reddish hue was offset by the panoramic view of the harbor and the cool blue tint of the open sea beyond. Hassan stared at them from behind his desk. Between the parties, a sterling silver serving tray sat covered on the desktop, as if the news had interrupted his meal.
‘Come… Sit.’ The drawl of his Arabic was slow and pronounced. He waited for them to take a seat before he spoke again. ‘You have news?’
Kamal nodded. ‘We have a lead on the girl.’
‘The girl you spoke of two nights ago?’
He nodded again. ‘We described her to our sources on the street. They were given orders to notify us if they saw her. She was spotted this evening.’
Kamal took out his cell phone and handed it to Hassan so he could see the picture that had been sent. ‘She is the same woman who ran from us in the bar. The woman who was speaking with Simon Dade.’
‘What is her involvement with Dade?’
‘We do not know. As you are aware, we have been unable to locate Dade these last few weeks. It appears he has gone into hiding. The recent encounter is as close as we have gotten. Again, our deepest apologies.’
‘He hides from us, yet he emerged for this girl? Then she is someone worth knowing. Wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ they mumbled in unison.
Hassan smiled and leaned back in his seat. ‘Gentlemen, you asked for this meeting, so tell me your thoughts: what does your instinct tell you? What do you make of her?’
Kamal and Tarek didn’t know how to respond. In all the years they had worked for Hassan, he had never asked for their opinions on a subject. They were simply the muscle. Hassan was the brain. They fed him the information they had gathered, he dictated their actions, and they responded. They weren’t accustomed to choices, and they certainly weren’t called upon for their thoughts.
Tarek broke the silence after an awkward pause. ‘We do not believe that she is a tourist.’
Hassan raised an eyebrow. ‘That is all?’
Kamal sat up straight in his chair. If this was his chance to show his boss that he was capable of more than physical intimidation, he was going to make the most of it. ‘As Farouk was saying, there is something different about her. She does not have the naïve look of a tourist. She carries herself confidently, like a professional.’
‘A professional? Like a doctor?’
He shook his head. ‘Like a criminal.’
It was an honest assessment, one that had come from years of observation. Alexandria might not be mentioned in the same breath as Caracas, Cape Town, or Juárez, but it still had its fair share of danger. Survival, particularly in their line of work, took a certain level of street smarts. Identifying the hustlers and con artists was an everyday chore, and those who couldn’t were destined to become victims.
Kamal hadn’t survived this long on his size alone.
He knew overlooking the girl would be a mistake.
Tarek joined in, warming to the opportunity to speak. ‘Her meeting with Dade was not coincidence. They knew each other. She trusted him enough to run with him at the first sign of trouble. That is why we sent her description to our people. To determine who she is, and why she is here.’
Hassan nodded. ‘Do you think she is cause for concern?’
‘Concern?’ Kamal echoed. ‘Not at this time. But she is a person of interest. That is why we circulated her photo. We knew she could not hide forever.’
‘Good,’ Hassan replied. ‘I want you to bring her to me. No more waiting. No more distractions. You are forgiven this time, but next time I might not be so charitable.’
Kamal and Tarek glanced at each other, confused. As far as they could tell, Hassan had agreed with everything they had said. So why was he threatening them?
Kamal was the one to voice it. ‘Sir, have we done something wrong?’
Hassan glared at them. ‘Do you actually think I didn’t know where you were while this girl was roaming my city? You dare to indulge yourselves with fancy meals while this wildcard walks my streets, and you expect my gratitude for bringing me her photo? If not for your lackeys, you would still be searching for her. Now I see why you have yet to produce Simon Dade.’
‘We thought—’
‘Silence! I do not pay you to think!’
Kamal and Tarek could feel Awad circling behind them, like a shark in shallow water waiting to attack. They knew all he needed was permission.
Instead, Hassan smiled. ‘But as I say, you are forgiven. In fact, I’ve prepared a special treat for you, seeing as your meal was previously interrupted.’
Hassan lifted the sterling silver cover off the tray on his desktop. He revealed a Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistol, a gun so powerful that the resulting wound would be bigger than a grapefruit.
Next to the pistol lay two dead pigeons. Awad had broken their necks only minutes before Kamal and Tarek’s arrival.
The birds were still warm. Their legs still quivering.
Hassan pushed the silver tray across his desk.
‘Please, gentlemen, finish your meal.’
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