That Time in Cairo Page 3

  Megan turned the 4Runner into a parking garage and found a spot on the second level. She shoved it into park and turned to Wolfgang. “I gather you’ve never been to this part of the world before.”

  Wolfgang shook his head.

  “Figures. Well, here’s your crash course on survival. Cairo isn’t the kind of place where Jihadists are going to jump out of random buildings, guns blazing. We’re not walking into the Wild West, here. Having said that, many of these people make their livings off of tourists. Ignorant, gullible, cash-rich tourists. Get my drift?”

  “Be street smart,” Wolfgang said.

  “Be very street smart. Don’t make eye contact when you don’t have to. Don’t speak unless you need to. And absolutely don’t pull your weapon. Got it?”

  The three of them unpacked the transmitters Lyle had given them and snapped them onto their belts before fitting wired earpieces in place.

  “Charlie Lead, this is Charlie One,” Megan said. “Com check.”

  “I’ve got you loud and clear, Charlie One,” Edric radioed back. “We’re almost in position. Deploy your team.”

  Megan led them across the garage and down the stairs to the first level. Wolfgang breathed in the deep scent of a foreign city, savoring the dirt and the strange food and the unfamiliar body odor. It was at once fragrant and at once foreign—the smelly cocktail of a new place full of new people.

  I like this. I like being someplace new.

  Megan stopped at the base of the garage and brushed her crimson hair behind one ear, then she motioned to the northeast. “The museum is three blocks that way. We’ll split up and approach from different angles. Check in frequently, and try to blend in. Any questions?”

  Wolfgang and Kevin shook their heads, and Megan nodded. “All right. Let’s catch a book thief.”

  4

  Wolfgang broke to the right, shoving his hands into his pants pockets and relaxing under the setting sun. The suited business people, bustling city officials, and robed Muslims that passed on all sides didn’t even glance his way as he covered the blocks and closed in on the museum.

  Giza was a truly diverse place, and while Wolfgang was certainly in the minority, he was far from the only white male walking the streets with no apparent destination in mind. Tourists blended with the locals and the business travelers, wielding cameras and pointing at the most ordinary things. Europe, Asia, and America were all represented by throngs of families and individuals, all eagerly seeking the most ideal places to snap photographs for social media.

  This would be an easier place to blend into than Paris had been, Wolfgang decided. He would stick to the sidewalks, keep his sunglasses on, and remain casual, while hoping that the book thief wouldn’t be as subtle.

  “Hey, Charlie Three, don’t eat the meat,” Kevin spoke suddenly, his voice booming through Wolfgang’s earpiece.

  “I’m sorry?” Wolfgang said.

  “The street meat. Don’t eat it.”

  Wolfgang hadn’t even thought about food, but as if on cue, the rich scent of roasting lamb wafted toward him, and his stomach growled.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I said so.”

  Wolfgang squinted, then a slow smile spread across his face. “Did it disagree with you, Kev?”

  Unidentified laughter rippled through the coms.

  “It always disagrees with him,” Lyle said. “Hey, Kev, tell Wolfgang about that time in Manila.”

  A grumble of curses filled the com. “Forget I said anything. Just trying to help out the new guy.”

  “Don’t be so salty, bro,” Megan said. “We’ve all been in shitty situations.”

  Edric cleared his throat. “Okay, we’ve had our fun. Sharpen up, now.”

  Wolfgang bypassed the slow-roasting lamb vendor and turned eastward. The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities lay on the east bank of the Nile River, in the shadow of downtown Cairo. According to the brief Google search Wolfgang had performed on the plane, the museum housed over 120,000 artifacts and was originally built in the early twentieth century by an Italian construction company.

  Wolfgang merged with a crowd of tourists and pressed his way across another bustling intersection as he tasted a slight dampness in the air. A hundred yards later, a bridge appeared, stretching across the Nile River with a pedestrian sidewalk on one side. A large sign in the middle of the bridge announced the end of Giza city limits and the beginning of Cairo. Wolfgang tilted his head back and looked to either side, admiring the tall buildings constructed on both banks of the water. For all intents and purposes, Giza and Cairo were the same metropolis, both with their cores situated near the river.

  He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, then stepped onto the bridge. The setting sun gleamed against the slow-moving waters of the ancient river, and Wolfgang paused a moment to admire the beautiful landscape. It was at once ancient and modern, simple and mysterious. He imagined boats built of bound reeds drifting through the waters, and he recalled the ancient Bible tale of the Hebrew leader Moses turning the entire river to blood with a strike of his staff.

  Staring at the river now, the gravity of the story hit him like it never had before, and he thought about the millions of ordinary people like him who had stood next to this river and thought about their lives. In the context of something so ancient and unchanging, how meaningless everything else felt. How temporary.

  “Hey, hotshot!” Megan said. “Let’s move. You’re not a tourist.”

  Wolfgang looked for Megan but couldn’t see her in the crowd. He hurried forward, crossing the bridge a few minutes later and stepping onto the east bank. The mass of the Egyptian Museum rose out of the buildings to his left, and he quickly found his post in its shadow. Wide streets full of rushing cars surrounded the museum on four sides, but there was a park in front of the main entrance, complete with sidewalks cutting through heavily irrigated grass.

  Wolfgang found a bench with an unobstructed view of the entrance and surrounding streets and took a seat. “This is Charlie Three. I’ve assumed a position to the southeast of the main entrance.”

  “Roger that, Charlie One,” Edric said. “Charlie One, Two, what are your positions?”

  “Charlie One, east of the building, side entrance,” Megan said.

  “Charlie Two, north of the building, back entrance,” Kevin said.

  “Very good,” Edric said. “Settle in. The target won’t leave until after sunset.”

  The last two hours of the day dragged by in slow motion. Wolfgang watched pedestrians pass by, some talking on cell phones, others listening to music on tiny earbuds. Better than half the people wore Muslim garb, and most of the women were accompanied closely by male escorts.

  Tourists clogged the entrance of the museum, surging in and out, and snapping photos with obnoxious enthusiasm while their children shouted and cried, running up and down the steps and touching everything. It was funny, Wolfgang thought. The Western world viewed the Middle East as an unruly, uncivilized place. Yet, by far, the most unruly and uncivilized things he’d seen so far were Western tourists.

  He leaned back and soaked in the warmth of the fading sun. It had already sunk behind the tall downtown towers of Giza, and he wondered what it would feel like once the sun was gone altogether. He’d heard that the desert was cold and windy at night, and this time of year, it could only be more so. Maybe he should have brought his peacoat.

  His stomach growled, not for the first time, and he looked around for a street vendor. There were none close by, and he redirected his gaze at the museum, then took out his phone and glanced at a high-resolution image of Dr. Pollins, studying every detail of her features. It was going to be a one in a million chance to identify a single woman leaving the museum, but hopefully the crowds would thin as the light dimmed.

  The museum closed, and the sun faded. As darkness fell over the city and streetlights flickered to life, the crowds did thin, with most pedestrians disappearing into cars or walking back across the river to their
hotels and condominiums. An hour after dark, almost nobody surrounded the museum, save a few hippies sitting next to the river, talking in indistinct murmurs and smoking weed. Wolfgang wondered if it was legal here or if you could even grow weed in the desert.

  He stood and stretched, walking casually down the sidewalk. He’d maintained sharp surveillance of his position all afternoon and was confident nobody had given him a second glance. But after dark, with fewer pedestrians around, it would be a lot harder to go unnoticed. Pollins had better hurry.

  “Charlie Lead, sitrep all stations,” Edric said.

  “Charlie One, on-site,” Megan said. “No sign of target.”

  “Charlie Two, on-site,” Kevin said. “All clear.”

  Wolfgang rubbed his hands together, a shiver running down his spine as wind whipped off the surface of the Nile and tore through his thin shirt.

  “Charlie Three, on-site,” he said. “No sign of target.”

  “Copy that,” Edric said. “We’re deploying the drone now.”

  Wolfgang impulsively glanced skyward, but he knew he’d never see Lyle’s toy. The drone would hover hundreds of feet up, high enough that its whirring blades would go unheard by people on the ground, and dark enough that it could never be seen. Its giant eye of a camera would stare down, providing crystal-clear imagery of the museum and those around it. For two hours, anyway. Then the battery would need to be changed. He assumed Lyle had a spare.

  “Stop picking your nose, Charlie Three,” Lyle said.

  Wolfgang grinned and casually flashed the peace sign at the sky. He returned to the bench and waited another forty-five minutes. The museum grew darker and more still, with lights fading from its windows as the staff departed one at a time. Wolfgang checked his watch, but it read 12:42 p.m. It was still set on Saint Louis time, and he had no idea how many hours ahead Cairo was. He cursed himself again for his lack of preparation and swore it wouldn’t happen again. He’d been distracted leading into this operation. The team deserved better.

  “All channels, I have a possible contact,” Kevin said suddenly. “Exiting the north side of the building and moving toward Charlie One.”

  Wolfgang stiffened and looked instinctively toward the north-facing side of the museum, where Kevin covered the back entrance. The employee entrance, probably.

  I should have taken that side.

  Moments ticked by in slow motion.

  “Charlie Lead, I have a probable target,” Megan said. “White female, about five foot six, exiting via the side entrance. I can’t see her face. Charlie Eye, do you have a visual?”

  There was a pause, and Wolfgang imagined he could hear the soft whirring of the drone high above, though it was probably just the wind.

  “Copy that, Charlie One,” Lyle said. “I have a visual, but not a face. Target is moving northbound on the east side of the museum.”

  “Close in and identify, Charlie One,” Edric said. “Do not break cover.”

  Wolfgang tapped his foot on the ground, suppressing an overwhelming urge to stand and walk toward the museum. If that was Pollins, they’d need to move quickly. The thief could be anywhere, waiting in the shadows, ready to lunge out and kidnap her. Maybe he was in a car, planning to rush out and throw her in the trunk before she could resist. At five feet tall and under a hundred pounds, she’d fit just fine. Pollins would never have a chance.

  “Target is turning toward me . . . hold one . . .” Megan said.

  Wolfgang licked his lips. The dry desert wind, dampened by the Nile or not, was sucking the moisture from his skin.

  “Target confirmed!” Megan hissed. “It’s Pollins.”

  Wolfgang stood and began walking toward the east side of the museum even before Edric spoke.

  “Close on the target, Charlie One,” Edric said, “but remain in the shadows. Charlie Three, move in to assist. Charlie Two, return to the 4Runner and stand by.”

  “Come again, Charlie Lead?” Kevin said, an obvious challenge in his tone.

  “You heard me, Charlie Two. Recover the vehicle and stand by.”

  Wolfgang could feel the tension on the line, but he understood Edric’s rationale. Kevin was a capable operator, but he possessed the stealth ability of a charging rhinoceros. Better for Kevin to get the 4Runner.

  “Copy that, Charlie Lead,” Kevin said.

  Wolfgang quickened his step, then took out his phone. It was lit up with a map of his current location, with blips on the screen where both he and Megan stood. A moment later, a new blip lit up the screen, moving slowly northward, then turning east at a much faster pace than he or Megan. That would be the drone.

  “I have eyes on the target,” Lyle said. “She’s moving deeper into downtown.”

  Wolfgang quickened his stride. He caught sight of Megan moving through the shadows on his right, and then he saw Pollins about fifty yards ahead, stooped over and hugging herself. He guessed she must be cold and wondered why she hadn’t brought a jacket to work. If this woman knew everything about Egypt, she should have expected the chilly winds. The temperature had to be below sixty now and still dropping.

  “I see her,” Wolfgang whispered.

  “Fan to your left, Charlie Three,” Megan said. “And don’t crowd her.”

  Wolfgang moved to the north about twenty yards, keeping Pollins in sight as the blocks passed beneath his shoes. Half an hour dragged by, and they were still walking, now moving east of downtown and into a tightly congested neighborhood. Buildings were crammed together with no rhyme or reason to their geometry, with streets switch-backing and twisting around like the strands of a web woven by a drunk spider. These streets were narrower, too, providing Wolfgang with only glimpses of Pollins as she hugged the brick walls of the looming structures and plowed ahead in a straight line, only making alterations to her course when the windings streets left her no choice.

  “Are we sure this is Pollins?” Wolfgang asked.

  “Positive ID confirmed,” Megan said. “She matches the picture.”

  “What’s your concern, Charlie Three?” Edric asked.

  Wolfgang sucked in a deep breath and broke into a soft jog, sliding one block over and struggling to keep Pollins in sight.

  “She doesn’t appear to be headed anywhere,” Wolfgang said. “She’s just walking due east with her head down . . . and the buildings are getting shabbier.”

  Edric grunted but said nothing.

  An uneasiness settled over Wolfgang, and he quickened his stride. He couldn’t see Megan now. She should be a block to the south, struggling to keep sight of Pollins among the irregularly winding streets. The target was forty yards ahead, still marching forward with dogged determination, her head down as if she wasn’t concerned with where she was headed. Something was wrong. Something didn’t feel right. This wasn’t the way a woman who knew the city and was headed someplace in particular would walk.

  “Keep your eyes sharp,” Lyle said. “You’re moving into a rougher neighborhood.”

  Wolfgang didn’t need to be told. The streets breathed a grungier air, with looming buildings that hung in shadows next to flickering streetlamps. What people were visible were all inside, moving behind dirty windows, while the streets and alleys in and around tall apartment buildings lay empty and dark.

  Wolfgang reached up and unbuttoned his shirt down to his belly button, exposing the white undershirt he wore beneath, and providing him easier access to the pistol—just in case. He could still see Pollins, marching relentlessly eastward, head down, arms hugging herself.

  Then he saw the shadow moving out of an alley on her right, sheltered by two tall, dark buildings. The closest street was wide and empty, and before Pollins could cross it, the figure darted out of the alley and grabbed her, clamping a hand over her mouth and dragging her back into the darkness.

  “Target is under attack,” Wolfgang hissed. “I’m moving in!”

  5

  Wolfgang broke into a run, completing a forty-yard dash to the entrance as the pistol cleared
his holster. He didn’t want to use it. He didn’t have time to affix the silencer to the barrel, and firing an unsuppressed handgun in a quiet place like this would almost certainly result in all the wrong kinds of attention, but he couldn’t let Pollins get hurt, either. Charlie Team had already let this go too far—already let her life come into jeopardy.

  “I can’t get through!” Megan said. “I’ve got to go around the block. I’m coming!”

  Wolfgang spun into the alley and raised the gun. Two men stood in the shadows, both clothed in black, both wielding glistening knives. One of them held Pollins against a wall, his thick forearm jammed beneath her throat, while the other was busy unbuckling his pants.

  “Hey, you!” Wolfgang shouted.

  The men looked up, their dark eyes growing wide at the sight of the gun. But instead of running away, the first man slammed Pollins’s head against the wall, stunning her before dropping her to the ground. Then they bolted toward Wolfgang, knives gleaming.

  Not good.

  Wolfgang froze in indecision. Code Yellow only allowed him to fire if fired upon, but it said nothing about knives. And anyway, if he did fire, what then? They didn’t need these people dead; they needed them alive so they could find the scroll.

  But knives.

  Wolfgang stooped, narrowly missing the first swing of the lead man’s knife, then shot his fist up into that man’s groin. As he stood, Wolfgang retrieved a fistful of dry dirt from the edge of the street and slung it into the eyes of the second man. The entire maneuver happened in mere seconds, all strung together like a perfectly choreographed dance move.

  The first man stumbled and dropped the knife. The second man held his weapon but clawed at his eyes with his free hand. Wolfgang went on the offensive, kicking the downed knife away and driving his elbow into the neck of the first man. That guy went down, still writhing from the pain in his crotch as Wolfgang moved to the second guy.