While Brotherhood spokesmen on the streets were still forecasting victory, they had not come close to marching south to relieve the Iranians in Sharm. At best, it might be viewed as stalemate; at worst, it was the quiet before a storm, for the Egyptian military had not yet truly intervened.
Shakuri enjoyed this new ability to overwatch the entire situation, the feeling of control. It had a sweet taste, and he was reluctant to return that magic bottle of power to his boss when Naqdi arrived this afternoon. Shakuri was now absolutely confident that he could replace the general at the airport, for sheer incompetence if nothing else. Then he could turn his full attention to ousting his superior officer. To think that only a week ago, he had trembled in fear of the influential, magical Naqdi. Things change quickly.
First, he had to deal with these spies among them. He slid a pistol into the polished leather holster on his belt and stepped into the chill and pure morning light. Two uniformed soldiers, each with an AK-47, stood at attention beside his car. Major Shakuri believed that at that moment he was the most important man in Sharm el-Sheikh, if not in all of Egypt.
The ride up Hotel Row from the Blue Neptune to the Four Seasons was short, and he and the two escorts marched inside as knots of people parted before them. Scars of the fighting from the first night were still plentiful but were rapidly disappearing beneath the reconstruction by work crews. The smell of fresh paint was strong, and drills, saws, and hammers were busy.
They went up on the elevator to one of the higher floors and found the room number. He knocked with short, impatient raps, then importantly went to a rigid parade rest position, chin up, hands behind his back, pistol on his hip.
Tianha Bialy opened the door and gave him a quick once-over, thinking he looked somewhat silly with the military posturing. She stepped aside as the men entered, with the guards walking through the suite in a brief search. Shakuri sat down, uninvited. Showing who is boss, like a little dog peeing on a lamppost, she thought.
“Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Bialy,” he said as his eyes roamed over her. The soldier who had searched the bedroom returned, nodded to the major, and joined his partner at the door.
“Since this is a business meeting, Major, let’s get right to it. Are you the Pharaoh?”
“Yes, I am,” he lied, turning up his palms in a gesture of innocence.
“Can you prove that?”
“Give me Kyle Swanson, and I will give you everything you want.”
“This was to be a fair and mutual exchange, Major Shakuri. My orders are not to proceed without proof of identity. A substantial sum of money is to be delivered to the Pharaoh, and we must be sure of the person with whom we are dealing.”
“I do not carry an identification card bearing that name. I am sure you can understand.” His eyes gleamed with quiet excitement.
“Then answer a question for me,” she said, pushing the conversation. “Why should I, or anyone in British intelligence, trust what you say?”
“Because it is very dangerous for you not to do so.” In a lightning move, the major reached forward and backhanded Tianha across the face, knocking her from the chair. “I did not come here to bargain with a British spy. I came because you have something I want.” He lunged across and wrapped her hair tight around his fist, then slapped her again, and blood spilled from her lower lip. “Do you know where Swanson is?”
She wiped away the blood with her fingers, feeling the sting of the cut. She did not scream and did not seem frightened, which puzzled him. Instead, she watched him with her dark eyes. She had known the ruse she was running was dangerous, but she would stick to the plan. “I want the real Pharaoh! It is obviously not you. You’re just an errand boy.”
It was Shakuri’s turn to be shocked. His word was not to be insulted and challenged by a woman. “And I plan to deliver you to him later today. First, I ask again, do you know the location of this CIA spy?” He gave the hair a vicious jerk and was pleased to see her wince in pain. “Do you?”
Tianha coughed, then gave a sarcastic smile. “Better than that, Major. I can take you to him.” They should be ready by now.
He pushed her away and bent over with his hands on knees, his face close to hers. “Then let’s go. My car is waiting.”
Swanson patiently waited in an apartment two doors down the hallway from the entrance to the safe house, his eye pressed against the peephole, again feeling the familiar warmth of his blood flowing through him before a fight, his heart thumping in a steady beat to make the machine that was his body ready for sudden, maximum performance.
A woman and her child lived in the place, but they had been paid well by Omar after a brief negotiation to leave for the rest of the afternoon to avoid some possible trouble. After the previous night of flames and fire, it did not take much persuasion for the handsome Omar to convince them to vacate for a few hours.
When it was clear, Kyle walked quickly down the hall from the safe house and into the apartment, where Omar was already clearing the area around the door of toys and furniture to allow more freedom of movement. Neither man spoke, for the time was past for talking. Omar hurried back to the safe house rooms but did not lock the door. Kyle also left his unlocked, with a small piece of duct tape over the latch to keep it from engaging. It would open with a simple pull. The big pistol carrying the sound suppressor was in his right hand. It shouldn’t be long now. Why had Bialy put herself in harm’s way? She had hatched this risky plan and was now firmly snared in the hunter’s net.
The door to the safe house was at the top end of a T of bisecting hallways, and Kyle was two doors down on the right side of the T stem, with the elevator at the far end. To get to the safe house, anyone would have to pass his position, and the only variable would be the positioning of the Iranians and where Tianha was placed among them. It almost did not matter how many guards there were, for they would be bunched together, and he planned to kill them all.
The cell phone vibrated silently in his pocket, and Omar spoke quietly. “I just saw them pull in downstairs. One officer, plus two bodyguards with AKs. Tianha is in front. On the way up.” Kyle snapped down the lid and put it back in his pocket, then let his body settle into the alert mode with every sense tingling. He rested his left hand on the doorknob and watched the hallway through the fish-eye peephole.
There was no warning bell on the elevator, but Swanson heard movement at the far end of the hall, and a woman’s voice echoing in the stillness. “This way. It’s that door right down there at the end.” Tianha was announcing obvious directions to make useless noise that served as a warning. Her comment was followed by the heavy fall of boots in the hallway. Swanson sucked in his breath and exhaled slowly.
One bodyguard led the way, and the major steered Tianha by the elbow to keep her in front of him. The second guard brought up the rear. They stopped at the entry to the safe house, and the guards took positions a few feet away from the door, one on each side, flat against the wall, and brought up their AK-47s.
Swanson gently opened his own door a half inch and saw that they were about fifteen feet away, with all of their attention on the safe house entrance.
Shakuri pushed Tianha forward. If any bullets came out of the apartment, she would be the first to be hit. “Call him,” the major ordered in a whisper, pulling his own pistol and standing out of sight to the side.