by JT Osbourne
"The new guy?" Brook hissed intensely.
Katy nodded. They had met in her new room—she'd switched it at Brook's request, and the two of them felt safe speaking aloud, though they stayed near the window, the night traffic partially covering their words.
"Same bomber jacket as Rabbit but a lot more hair—dark and handsome."
"You noticed that right off, didn't you?" Brook accused.
"Just trying to protect your interests," Katy declared.
"Get your camera out," Brook suggested.
"Okay..." Katy did as she was told, turning on all the lights in the room. They both jumped a little at a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," Brook said. She went to the door and opened it on Tom, who looked a little bewildered. Brook grabbed his arm and pulled him in, then took a glance both ways down the hall. Either Tom had slipped away successfully, or the Russians were being even sneakier than usual.
"What's going on?" Tom asked as Katy rolled the camera on Brook's face.
"Okay. So," Brook began, gathering her thoughts. So much depended on this one speech, she felt, but now she wasn't so sure of herself. "What do you do with that footage?" she asked Katy, who kept on filming.
"What do you mean?"
"Is it on tape—on a disc—what?"
"It's a little card. I save the cards and upload them to cloud-storage every day."
"So if the cards got stolen or lost…?"
"If I take a bullet and croak, you pull the card out right here," Katy said cynically, "and hide it any way you like. Otherwise, everything's on the internet under my e-mail address. You want my password?"
Brook didn't answer.
Katy laughed. "Just how dangerous is this?"
"I really don't know," Brook admitted.
"Are we going for Cleopatra?" Tom asked, excited.
"Yes, and don't mention it again," Brook admonished. "Just the three of us know. And yes, it could be dangerous."
Katy kept filming, holding the moment.
"Ali's not with us?" Tom asked.
"No, we're not including him," Katy answered for Brook.
"But you trust me..."
"Only because you know something about how the star-maps work." Brook said quickly. "Don't flatter yourself."
Tom laughed nervously, but he looked hurt; an expression Katy captured brilliantly on her camera. "Okay, I get it. And I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a male along for the ride, right?" Two foreign women travelling alone might not be welcomed in the hinterlands."
Both Brook and Katy knew that wasn't exactly the case, and Tom sensed he wasn't being told all of it.
"You two aren't going to do something nasty and leave me dealing with the consequences, are you?" Tom asked. "The fall guy?"
Brook shook her head. "No! Did you get a new passport?"
"Yes," Tom said, patting his belly, where his new security pouch hung. "Are we leaving the country?"
"Maybe, for Libya," Katy answered for Brook again.
Tom whistled. "Libya, huh?" he said. "I suppose we'll have all the permissions, licenses and all that?" The silence told him volumes. He chuckled, and shook his head. "You two!"
“We could be in trouble, big trouble, if we don't pull this off cleanly. And not just in Egypt—" Brook confessed.
"There's a civil war going on in Libya, you know."
"We're aware," she answered. "If you want to stay behind..."
Tom held up his hand.
"I have a good idea where we're going," Brook continued. "Within a few hundred miles, anyway. The jihadists aren't there, I'm fairly sure, and the other factions are more worried about urban areas. It's not territory anybody would particularly want."
"Unless Cleopatra's there," Katy added.
"Okay, whose side are you on?" Brook asked, an edge to her voice.
Katy waved off the objection.
"And we weren't going to mention that name again!" Brook reminded her.
Katy zipped her lips in response.
"So yeah, it'll be hell to pay if we're caught, a definite international incident if we don't get our throats slit," Brook stated firmly.
"Well, actually, even then..." Tom joked.
Nobody laughed.
He looked at the two women and seemed to wait until the camera was on him. "We're all in, Brook, whatever you say."
A natural born star, Brook thought, as Katy panned back to Brook.
"Okay, here's the plan," Brook began.
57
Morgantown, WV
The moment Professor Stuart Green stepped back into Woodburn Hall he knew something was wrong. He had never been one of those who believed there were ghosts inside, though on occasion he had heard and seen things he couldn't explain. This was more than that; something tangible, beginning with the fact the front door was unlocked.
You could have forgotten to lock it when you went out, Green told himself. He'd done that before, and there were any number of absent-minded janitorial staff that might have made a mistake in the hours Green had spent at the planetarium, and unlocked it.
Green fumbled with the phone and quickly found campus security in his list of contacts.
Thumb over the dial button, the old professor hesitated. He stepped back outside and checked the parking lot. There was a car he didn't recognize—nothing special, a modest vehicle, probably owned by a professor, Green decided, or an eager grad student.
Could be perfectly innocent, he mused, trying to convince himself. Green shivered, and went back inside. He marched upstairs, listening, stopping, and listening again. Nothing. He was paranoid and after being awake for nearly 36 hours, his adrenaline was fading and he was in desperate need of sleep. When he reached the darkened halls of the second floor, he flicked on the lights.
"Nothing to see here," the professor grumbled. "Move along now."
Green unlocked his office, and entered his private lair, careful to lock the door behind him, plus the dead bolt. Now even a janitor with a key wouldn't be able to open it. Exhausted, Green collapsed on his couch, as he'd done many times before, and promptly fell fast asleep.
58
Alexandria, Egypt
"Got it!" Brook hissed to Katy in the women's restroom off of the lobby of the hotel. "Got it!" She held up her phone; Katy capturing it all on film.
"Got what?" Katy asked. This wasn't as spontaneous as she would have liked—they'd already given $10 to the bathroom attendant for privacy.
"The location of Cleopatra and Antony's tomb," Brook spoke dramatically into the camera. "And now we gotta move!"
It was early enough in the morning that the new Russian minder was on duty, content to hang out in the lobby, and not prone to make a move as long as the two women he was supposed to watch stayed in the restroom. Brook had long-before discovered another door out of the place; a linen closet, which connected to a hallway and exit down one wing of the hotel.
Brook and Katy burst through the doors and onto the sidewalk just as Tom roared up in the rental car, screeching to a stop. The two women jumped in and Tom drove on.
"Easy," Brook warned, ducking low as they passed the front of the hotel.
"Little Bunny's looking the other way," Tom commented.
Both Katy and Brook dared look. The new Russian—who they'd nicknamed "Bunny"— was indeed faced the other way, keeping his eye on the ladies' room.
"Well, that was easy," Brook sighed, not even admonishing Katy for filming out the window at the hapless Russian.
Saa waited in the same spot as before, this time with two monster trucks outfitted for desert driving and loaded with supplies. Katy documented the whole thing with her camera.
"As you asked," Saa told Brook. "Enough food and water for ten days for four people. The water takes up the most room. You can live without food for a long time, but water, no."
"Good work, Saa," Brook praised.
Saa smiled, happy to be of service. "And the phones," he added. He handed out three satellite phones—one t
o Brook, one to Tom, and one to Katy. "Be careful, don't lose—rentals—big deposit."
"Did you do the numbers?" Brook asked.
"I did, yes. All in there."
"And you kept a phone for yourself?" Brook asked.
Saa held up a phone identical to the others.
"Okay, here's the deal," Brook told them all, checking the phone Saa gave her to be sure. "You should have just four numbers in your phone—the numbers of the other people right here make three. The other is an emergency number, only for use in a life and death situation, understand?"
"No.” Katy replied honestly.
"We can call each other, and we can call out in case of an emergency, but otherwise we're going to go radio silence," Brook explained. "We need to give up our own phones so they can't be tracked." She turned to Saa. He produced what appeared to be a strong-box lined with lead. When he popped open the lid, Brook placed her regular cell-phone inside.
Tom and Katy looked skeptical.
"It's do this or don't go," Brook insisted. "We can't have people following us around. We'll be able to talk to each other and the phones will work in an emergency."
"Will we get them back?" Katy asked. "I have all kinds of information in there."
"Of course," Brook responded. "After we get back."
Tom shrugged, pulled out his phone, and stuck it in the box. "I've only had it a couple weeks anyway," he said.
Katy still balked. "Can I take my camera?" she asked, filming Brook's answer:
"Absolutely. I insist on it. I want the whole operation documented."
"We don't have permits," Katy reminded her. "We're going to break some laws, and all that footage could be evidence."
"It'll be worth it," Brook told them all. "I'm hoping, anyway."
Katy’s enthusiasm sagged at the thought of actual jail-time. "Where are you putting these phones?" she asked, holding hers at the ready, prepared to put it back in her pocket if she didn't like the answer.
Brook turned to Saa.
"I have a place," he told them. "On the way. They'll be safe there."
"Are you sure?" Katy asked.
Saa smiled. "It's a police station," he told them.
"Okay, now your laptops."
Tom and Katy were stunned.
59
Alexandria, Egypt/Morgantown, WV
It took the young Russian half an hour to conclude that Katy and Brook weren't coming out of the ladies' room. To his credit, he made no attempt to hide his dereliction of duty, but notified Grekov and Rabbit immediately. They huddled in the hotel lobby, and Grekov dispatched Rabbit to interrogate the washroom attendant who had, without hesitation, shown "Bunny" the escape route.
Meanwhile Grekov and the new man—real name Dryusha—would check the restaurant; perhaps they'd only gone for breakfast.
With no luck there, Grekov ordered, "Upstairs. We will ask Ali about this."
Dryusha headed for the elevator.
"Nyet. We will take the stairs," Grekov announced.
Once in the stairwell, Grekov grabbed Dryusha by the neck, slamming him against the concrete wall.
Stunned, Dryusha made no attempt to fight back, even as Grekov viciously pounded the young man's face with his fist, smashing the back of his head repeatedly into the wall. The fury was quick and damaging, and within seconds Dryusha slumped to the floor, just conscious enough to hear the click of Grekov's weapon as he prepared to fire it into Dryusha's skull.
"If I hear that you helped these women escape in any way, I will kill you, your mother, and your sisters, too, you understand?"
Dryusha nodded gingerly.
"Stay here," Grekov went on. "I will go speak to Ali alone. After that, we will search the women's rooms. Understand?"
Again, the young man nodded.
Only then did Grekov pocket his weapon and bound up the stairs alone.
***
The laptops just fit into the lead box, as though it was designed for this purpose.
"What about the star-maps?" Tom asked. "We need those, and the coordinates."
"Here, I'll show you," Brook told him, as Saa looked on and Katy focused her camera. Brook brought out a brand-new laptop computer—small, compact, cheap. "Bought it yesterday and fired it up, all without the Internet. It’s totally clean. Never accessed a network, and never will. We'll use it for the star-maps and nothing else." Brook produced a thumb-drive and showed him, but didn't insert it. "When the time comes, not before," Brook concluded, pocketing the drive and closing the laptop. "Let's roll."
"I don't know where they went," Ali told Grekov. "They've been very secretive, and they've included Tom in their scheme, whatever it is. Ever since he showed up, Brook hasn't confided in me."
Ali waited for the blows he was sure would come. He stood in the middle of his hotel room between the two full-sized beds; Grekov in front of the only door out. Ali could see there was no escape. He vainly hoped that he'd retain some of his good looks when it was over, and be able to function as something other than an invalid. He was pretty sure Grekov wouldn't kill him; Ali was the only ally Grekov had in this operation, and for Grekov greed always trumped anger.
"Strelov isn't going to like this," Grekov said simply. "We'll go check her room. Come."
Ali was surprised at the ease with which Grekov entered Brook's room. One swipe of a card was all it took.
Have they searched my room, too? Ali wondered.
"Rabbit is doing yours as we speak," Grekov assured him, reading Ali's thoughts.
"He won't find anything," Ali stated firmly.
"Let's hope not," Grekov replied. "For your sake."
The Russian made a quick and thorough search of Brook's room, as if he'd done this a hundred times, and been trained and drilled to do it, too. Ali waited helplessly, certain he would be of no help, yet desperate to make Grekov stop somehow, positive this violation of Brook's privacy would be blamed on him.
***
Tom drove one of the big trucks, Saa the other. Katy went with Tom, while Brook went with Saa.
"You managed to get everything?" Brook asked Saa.
"Yes, no problem—tents, clothing, boots, everything on your list."
"Slow down a little—we don't want to lose them."
Behind, Tom had difficulty keeping up with the traffic. The truck was larger than anything he'd ever driven, and fully loaded. He was having trouble just keeping it on the road, especially through the narrow streets and alleyways of the small provincial town Saa had brought them to.
Saa slowed his vehicle. For security reasons, they hadn't told Tom their first destination. Brook thought it might not have helped much anyway, since Tom didn't know enough to even ask for directions. She looked in the back of the truck. There were shovels, picks, and boards for excavation work. With only the four of them, they wouldn't be doing any major operations. If they found something, Brook was prepared to call in the Marines, but for the time being, they could manage.
Saa soon pulled the lead truck up to a police station, a lonely outpost in a sleepy town. A large man in a policeman's uniform, resembling Saa a great deal, charged out of the building with enormous enthusiasm and embraced Saa like a long-lost cousin, which in fact he was.
They conversed rapidly for less than a minute, after which Saa seized the leaden briefcase with all the phones and laptops, and gave it to the policeman. The cousin looked both ways down the street, and up on the rooftops, making a huge show of secrecy, waved goodbye, then rushed the thing into the police station.
"We go, we go!" Saa urged, rushing Katy, Tom and Brook back into the vehicles. "Everything safe now. We go."
***
Green woke up around four in the morning, unsure where he was for a moment. As often as he'd slept in his office, it still brought him a tinge of regret and shame. He hated to be the resident sad old man of the department. He was sure the students and other faculty discussed him behind his back, and commented on his eccentricities. His life hadn't been an unhappy
one, but it also hadn't included a wife, kids, family, or home.
The professor shook the chill from his bones and quickly checked his phone and computer for news from Brook.
There was nothing.
Green plugged in the coffeemaker. He wasn't sure how long he could wait, and wished he and Brook had discussed what to do now. He figured he ought to maintain radio silence, but the decision would kill him eventually, he believed. He wanted desperately to call her and find out what was going on. He was stuck in West Virginia, far from the action, and unable to help in any way. The way she'd wanted to disguise the longitude and latitude figures—
A distinct, gentle, distant chime from a computer startled Professor Green. He checked his own computer and phone. Neither of those had made the sound, he was sure, and the coffee machine merely hissed at him.
Was there another noise?
Down the hall—Brook's room! Green snuck to his own door, unlocked it, and listened.
Nothing.
Gingerly, he opened his door and peeked down the hall. Brook's door was closed, but Green knew that didn't mean anything. There were other doors—five in total—between Green's office and Brook's. It was possible the chime had come from somewhere else, but unlikely—in the many decades of his tenure, Green had never seen anyone else come into work this early in the morning. Green listened. He'd wondered about his hearing lately. He meant to have it tested.
Temporarily reassured, he locked the door again and stepped back to his coffee maker, which was just finishing its cycle. Whoever it was down the hall must have heard it, right? Green poured himself a cup and turned off the machine.
Could it be Brook? Back from Egypt? Not likely, given flight times. Unless she'd lied about where she was?
He took out his phone. If you're going to be an old fool, might as well go the whole hog. He dialed campus security.
"Woodburn Hall. Somebody's broken in. I'm here too—Professor Stuart Green. Elderly, wool hat—don't shoot me." Green hung up and immediately put the hat on. The smart thing to do would be to lock the door and stay put, or perhaps hurry back outside and wait in the cold.