***
The road trip to Oran consumed over two hours, much of it narrated by Karim's nonstop travelogue on the delights of owning a well-maintained Avalon, the instant distrust I should expect from cousin Kamal, and the fact that had I traveled this stretch of road alone, I would have fallen victim to the local fatwa against wayward Westerners.
"The tea is exceptionally good at these cafes, though. Brilliant, eh what? But not this time. Next time."
"When I'm able to meet your mother."
"Indeed, sport. You are one sharp dart, Baron von dek Horn."
His remark brought forth to mind Pat Aundybach, prompting me to quickly dial up the lad's number, bearing in mind my mobile battery had now entered the precious zone in terms of time remaining. No answer was forthcoming and I opted not to leave a message. Pat would know enough to contact me at his first opportunity.
"Here we come now to Oran. Big city in every direction. You keep head down. No brilliant chicken this time."
"Understood, Kamir."
"Cousin Kamal, he keeps a business in the port section. He also keeps business at airstrip. We see him tonight at airstrip, what ho?"
"I am at your disposal, my good man. Entirely. You do know my ultimate goal here in North Africa is to reach Tunis."
"Of course I do, Baron old boy," Kamir laughed once more in his gentle, unassuming manner. "You mention it not once but several times, like a chicken clucking, scratching at the ground."
"My anxiety, I guess. I want to complete my job." I had in fact thought about what would await me in Tunis when solving the mystery written out on the note. Without question, Bridgework and Moeziz -- along with who knows -- might have already arrived and departed with the flash drive. Their clear advantage was knowing the location of the CerebStix. My challenge of reaching the city before them and, once there, figuring out where to search was daunting. "I might be carrying out nothing more than a fool's errand."
"All the more reason to help Kamal and me. And then you help my other cousin, Khalid."
"Khalid? Just how many cousins do you have?"
"Hundreds. You only help the ones helping you. Okay, chum?"
"Sound policy for adherence." At the moment my stomach began to sour and my heart palpitate. What in the world was I thinking? Racing to Tunis? For what? Beads of sweat formed on my brow despite my continual efforts to mop the hydro-matter away, while a seizure in my airway produced a constellation of sparkling stars before my eyes. Here I was in a foreign country where death was easily dispensed based on perceived religious conviction as defined by skin pigment. And I entrusted myself to a stranger whilst fleeing sure apprehension. My mouth went dry, except for the aftertaste of acrid bile rising along the back of my tongue. "Kamir, my good man, how much time before we reach Kamal?"
I never did hear his answer, busy as I was slumping unconscious atop the forward console.
Baril de Singes [Barrel of Monkeys] Page 45