into something loose and comfortable. He was also tired but the covered bazaar, the famous Souk of Cairo, was where he wanted to be.
It was an easy ten-minute walk from the Sheraton Hotel on the banks of the Nile River to the exotic alleys and merchant districts of the bazaar. The ancient market in Cairo was many times larger than the one in Beirut.
At the entrance Matt stood beneath the great arched portico. Dark passageways ran in all directions. Pungent smells from the spice vendors assaulted his nostrils. Merchants and shoppers, many still dressed as they had for thousands of years eyed him curiously. Old women carried string bags full of food and other merchandise bought at the morning market somewhere deep inside the souk. Matt wandered about aimlessly, every once in a while coming across the central courtyard of a mosque.
He found a food stall and ordered a cup of grainy Arabic coffee, a bowl of yogurt with honey and a pita bread sandwich filled with roast lamb. If only Maha were beside me now. Her face filled his memory, sweet and innocent.
With his back turned they didn’t notice him as they hurried by. William Fisher and an elderly Middle Eastern man in an expensive western business suit. Both spoke in animated Arabic as they moved quickly along the crowded thoroughfare.
What is Fisher doing here? Curious, Matt left several bills on the table and followed at a safe distance.
“You are American, yes?” A dirty Egyptian boy came up beside him, walking in lockstep. He smiled, showing rotten teeth. He was young, but his eyes knew more than his age.
“That’s right.” Matt smiled down at him. “And who are you?”
“My name is Saleem. Allah in his infinite wisdom has chosen me to be your guide today.” The boy bowed. “Where would you like to go and what would you like to see?”
Matt glanced after Fisher and his companion. “Your English is very good, Saleem. Where did you learn it?”
“My mother is a maid for a woman who teaches at the American University in Cairo. I also learn some English at school,” he said, beaming.
“And shouldn’t you be in school now?”
“Oh no. Allah says it is my duty to help you. So here I am.” The eyes hardened. “Why are you following those men?”
“Is it that obvious?” Matt said. “Actually, I know one of them. I was just curious where they were going.”
“Follow me. I know where they are going and we will get there before them.” Saleem disappeared around the next corner. “Are you coming?” he said, poking his head back around.
Matt weaved and ran through the dark lanes of the covered bazaar, barely keeping his guide in sight. Abruptly they came upon a lavish nightclub at the edge of the bazaar. Matt stared at the carved door. An immense white sign announced the entrance to the Hidden Veils Nightclub.
Saleem pulled hard on his sleeve, almost dragging Matt into the dark recesses of a carpet shop just across from the nightclub. They both watched as William Fisher and the older man walked by and disappeared into the nightclub.
“Would you like me to take a look for you?” asked Saleem. “I can get in and out without being seen. It would be fun.”
“Yes. But be careful,” said Matt. “And come out in five minutes and tell me what you see. Then I’ll let you guide me around the city for a few hours.”
“It will be a great honor to be your esteemed guide. I shall return shortly.”
Matt stood in a dark alley a few shops away from the entrance to the nightclub and waited. Several elderly men came and went over the next few minutes. Matt looked at his watch. Ten minutes passed and no Saleem. Matt looked around. Shit.
Matt waited a few more minutes, then stepped out of the shadows and headed for the nightclub.
“Hey. Watch where you’re going,” said Matt, regaining his balance after being nearly knocked over by someone from behind.
“Oh, a thousand pardons, Sir. I was late for a meeting and didn’t see you. Are you all right?” A young man a few years younger than Matt looked up, again making apologies.
“I’m okay,” said Matt. “Your English is very good.”
“Why thank you. I am a student. My name is Noubar. My benefactor insists I become fluent in English, and French, German and Russian. He says it will be important for my future success.” The boy looked at his watch. “Now if you will excuse me I must hurry. May Allah protect you.” He hurried towards the nightclub, opened the door, and slipped passed Saleem who was just exiting.
Later that afternoon at a food stall near the giant Helipolis obelisk on the banks of the Nile Saleem told Matt what he had seen in the nightclub. The tall American had been seated with a large Egyptian man watching the belly dancers and drinking Arabic coffee. A man in a Palestinian headdress joined them. The three of them talked very quietly to each other.
“Can you describe them?” asked Matt.
“The man in the red keffiyeh had a hooked nose, large lips, and hadn’t shaved, like my brothers sometimes,” Saleem laughed easily. “He was Palestinian. That is all I can tell. And just before I left, another man, about your age, joined them. He looked like a college student. I have seen many of them at the house where my mother works. And he had an Armenian accent.”
Washington, DC
Eli gently shook Nicole and Matt. “Better wake up.”
Matt stirred, then sat up. Tension hardened his eyes. “What’s happened?”
“Get dressed. We need to talk. Right away.”
“What is it, Dad?”
“Dr. Martin Thomas is dead.”
“Oh, God.” Nicole drew the bedcover up to her neck.
“It’s on the morning news. He died of an apparent heart attack in bed last night. His butler found him.”
Matt dressed quickly. “Were there any signs of violence?”
“If there were it wasn’t reported in the news. All they said is the butler heard noises coming from his room. It seems he died after a coughing fit that was too much for his heart. He had been taking heart medication for the past year.”
Nicole talked as she dressed. “We’ve got to retrieve that recorder. Maybe we can find out something about his death.”
Matt pulled on his trousers and reached for his shoes.
Nicole stood in the doorway. “I’ll go retrieve it. Make some coffee will you?”
“Watch yourself,” Elijah said.
“Just have the coffee ready.”
When Nicole returned Matt was on his third rerun of the Dr. Thomas story on CNN. “Nothing new. Did anyone see you?”
“No. Believe me, I was careful. I parked a block away and walked to the hedge. Dad?” Nicole handed the recording device to her father.
“Give me a few minutes.” Elijah produced a set of headphones and began listening. Matt and Nicole waited, watching as he sat hunched over, listening, eyes fixed in time and space.
“Okay. He made two calls. Most of its blank but the two calls had him phoning his son, a physician in California, and one to William Fisher in Baltimore.”
“Fisher?”
“What did he and Fisher talk about?” Nicole asked, an impatient edge in her voice.
“I couldn’t hear clearly what he was saying to Fisher but he mentioned Matt’s name several times.”
“That’s all? No details about the conversation?”
