by Nick Carter
'Well, they don't know I have any money to spend yet,' I said. 'Maybe that will make them see me in a more friendly light.'
When Fayeh had finished her performances for the evening, she dressed and emerged from her dressing room looking like a school girl in a white sweater and blue miniskirt, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders. Most of the makeup was gone, and its removal enhanced the natural beauty of her face.
'Very nice,' I said.
She smiled and put her arm through mine, leading me out of the place. Outside we got a taxi, and Fayeh gave the driver an address in an area I wasn't familiar with. We drove across Cairo into the old part of town where the streets were narrow and skulking figures lurked around every street corner. She told the cab to stop in the middle of a block of decrepit old buildings.
I paid the driver and watched him move away. When the sound of the car was gone, it seemed suddenly very lonely. The girl led me to the end of the block to a decaying tenement, and we went inside.
The inside was worse than the outside. A dim bulb hung at the bottom of rotting wooden stairs. We climbed the stairs past peeling paint and wall graffiti to a third floor room. Fayeh knocked three times, hesitated, then knocked again.
In a moment the door opened, and a man stood there. He was a wreck of a human being, not just thin but bony like a skeleton. His face was long and sallow, the clothing he wore was little better than rags, and he stank.
He squinted down at the girl and made a sound in his throat. 'Yeah?'
'It is Fayeh Nasir,' she said.
'Oh, Yeah.' He looked past her at me. His eyes were glazed, as if he were coming off of a high of some kind. He studied me for a long moment, then looked back at the girl. 'What do you want?'
'Information,' she said.
'What kind?' He scratched his crotch.
'We want to be put in contact with the New Brotherhood,' she said.
Some of the glaze left his eyes and fear crept into them. 'You're crazy,' he said. He started to close the door in our faces.
I jammed my foot against it. 'We're not out to cause trouble,' I said. 'We just want to talk to somebody. I can pay you well.'
Again he studied my face. 'Step inside a minute,' he said finally.
The room he lived in was littered with papers and food scraps and various kinds of bedding. He apparently slept on a low pallet in a dark corner, a dirty greasy mess, but soiled bedding was everywhere. There were wine bottles all over the place, and there was the sweet stench of hashish in the stale air.
He slumped into a straight chair at a small table in the middle of the room. 'Sit down and talk,' he said. His accent was not quite British.
We preferred to stand. 'I want to be put in touch with Pierre Bovet,' I said.
He looked at me, then gave an ugly laugh. 'Why don't you ask for something easy, like breathing life back into King Tut?'
I didn't laugh. 'I'm not playing games,' I told him. 'The girl said you might be able to help. If not…'
'Nobody sees Pierre Bovet,' he said. 'You don't know what you're asking.'
Fayeh spoke then. 'We thought we might convince one of the men close to him first,' she explained. 'You put us in touch with the New Brotherhood and we will proceed from there.'
He rubbed his chin and thought about that for a moment. 'How much is in it for me?' he asked finally.
I pulled out my wallet, took out some bills and laid them on the dirty table. He looked at them and grunted. I added three more bills. He looked at them hungrily, then up at me. 'What will I tell them you want?'
'That I want to buy something.'
'Drugs? I can get you all you want.'
'Not drugs,' I said.
He squinted at me again, then reached out and picked up the money. He counted it carefully. 'All right. I'll do what I can. Where can I call you?'
I told him.
'I'll give you a ring tomorrow morning. Be there.'
'I'll be there,' I said. 'Just make sure you call,'
The visit was over. The girl and I left the pigsty Thinman called home. Outside, we found a taxi.
I saw Fayeh home. She rented a small apartment just off the Sharia el Abdel. She asked me up, but I declined and kept the taxi. It was going to be a busy day tomorrow and much as I wanted to be alone with her and as much as she seemed to mean the invitation, the mission came first… as always.
At just after ten the next morning the call came. Thimnan's voice sounded as shaky on the phone as he looked in person. He had instructions for me.
'You must have a car,' he said. 'The girl owns one, I believe.'
'All right.'
'You will drive out of town on Sharia Khedive Ismail. Keep following it into the desert until you come to the old caravan track. Make a right turn and drive into the desert for about ten kilometers. At that point you will find a smaller track leading off to your left with a signpost pointing to an abandoned well called the Sharkass. Do you read Arabic?' he asked.
'Enough,' I said.
'Good. Drive along this track for exactly three kilometers, stop your car and wait. You will be met.'
'By whom?'
'By a member of the New Brotherhood.'
'What's his name? What will he look like?'
There was a soft chuckle. 'You will find that out when you get there.' The phone clicked in my ear.
The meeting had been set for afternoon, at two sharp. I called for Fayeh at her apartment and, as Thinman had suggested, we took her car. She had a weakness for bright, shiny things and drove a bright blue Citroën SM convertible.
'You like to drive,' I told her as we moved along the Sharia Khedive Ismail, the balmy air blowing her long hair about.
'I like to drive beautiful cars,' she corrected me. 'They tell me it has a double overhead camshaft V6 Maserati engine, whatever that means.'
I grinned, studying the expensive instrument panel. 'It means you're lucky to have two jobs to support it,' I said. I glanced at the clock on the panel and at my watch. I leaned forward and adjusted the hands on the clock. 'Your clock is running, but it's almost an hour off. You should pay more attention to time in your business.'
'Why is time important to a dancer?' she said, smiling.
I returned the smile. Sitting in the seat beside me, the loveliest legs in the Near East exposed by a micro-mini skirt, she did not seem to fit the part of policeman. She could have been a New York secretary on a weekend outing.
In a short time we were in the desert. We found the caravan track and made the right turn. Here the going was slower because we kept running into soft sand. Then when there was nothing around us but sand and sky and shimmering heat waves, we saw the signpost pointing to Sharkass Well along an ill-defined track.
'Can we drive on that?' she asked doubtfully.
'If you're careful. Go slow.'
We moved onto the track, the car bumping along in low gear. I watched carefully on all sides as we rode along, because I did not trust either the New Brotherhood or Thinman. The latter had seemed quite evasive on the phone. I watched the odometer on the panel, since we were to drive exactly three kilometers along this route. At one point Fayeh almost got us stuck in deep sand but then the car pulled free. At two point five kilometers, I said: 'Stop.'
She braked the car. I stood up in my seat and studied the hot sand ahead. Heat rose from the dunes around us and distorted the landscape. High in the cobalt-blue sky above, a vulture wheeled silently.
I sat back down and glanced at my watch. 'It's getting close to two o'clock, but there's nobody in sight anywhere. Maybe we ought to walk the last…'
I stopped, staring at the clock on the panel. It appeared to be running — I could hear the ticking — but the hands were just as I had set them back at Fayeh's apartment. Then it came to me.
'Get out!' I yelled at her. 'Get out quickly and run for that dune over there!'
'What…?' She was bewildered by the sudden change.
'Do it!' I said harshly. I reached past
her, flung her door open and shoved her out. Then I vaulted over the side of the car to the sand beside her.
'Over there!' I said. I grabbed her arm and dragged her after me to a rise of sand about fifty yards away. I pulled her over the crest and pushed her down on the warm sand on the far side. Then I looked back toward the car. 'There was a ticking,' I said, 'but your clock was not running.'
She stared at me for a blank moment, then looked wide-eyed toward the Citroen SM, sitting shiny and beautiful on the track in the bright sun.
And then it happened. The car just seemed to erupt in a blue brilliance, accompanied by an ear-shattering roar, and was immediately engulfed by yellow flames and black smoke. I pushed Fayeh down again as twisted pieces of metal sailed past our heads, hurled by the high-powered explosion.
When the flying debris had landed, we looked up. The car was burning brightly in the desert sun. There appeared to be little left of the front seat where we had sat moments before. In another moment there was a second explosion — the gas tank — and the flames rose even higher.
We watched silently for a long moment before I turned to Fayeh. 'Nice people,' I said.
'Oh, my god!' she said, grabbing onto my arm and moving closer to me.
'I think the New Brotherhood is trying to tell me something,' I said, watching black smoke curl skyward.
'But, Thinman…'
'Something tells me he knew what they were up to,' I said. 'He set us up.'
'But why would he do it?'
'Because he's scared of them — and maybe of the trouble we can cause him.'
Suddenly she laughed. 'I still have fifteen payments to make on the car.'
I smiled and looked over at her. We were lying side by side on the sand. 'Let your insurance company worry that out. Now, how do we get back to town?'
She sighed and rolled over close to me so that her slim curves were touching me all along my side and thighs. Her skirt had hiked up around her hips revealing a triangle of white panties.
There will be a bus along the main track — back there at the junction — at about three-thirty.'
'Well, that's our transportation back,' I said.
She started to get up, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her so the full breasts pressed against my chest.
'Where are you going?'
'Well, you said…'
'I said we'd catch the bus. But that's an hour and a half from now, isn't it?'
She smiled and the smile made her face even more lovely. 'Yes,' she said softly. 'We do have some time. And it would be silly to stand around waiting for the bus. Besides, you did save my life…'
'Exactly,' I said. I removed the light jacket I was wearing, exposing the Luger. She glanced at the gun briefly, then moved her body so I could spread the jacket under her. 'There's a breeze here and it's quite comfortable. Let's forget about that burning car and the New Brotherhood and stay here.'
She pressed up against me. 'I'd like that, Nick.'
She was waiting to be kissed, and so I obliged. Her lips were warm and moist, and her mouth answered mine hungrily. The breasts that she moved so well in the dance now thrust against me. I ran my hand over the most available one.
My hand slid under her blouse, unclasped the small bra and was moving on hot, silky-smooth skin. She rolled onto her back, her eyes closed against the brightness of the cloudless sky. Her body began moving under my touch and small sounds came from her throat.
I pulled the blouse over her head in one movement and freed her breasts from the bra. They were round and full with large brown nipples. I leaned down and kissed each one. At the touch of my lips, she gasped.
While my mouth moved on her breasts, my hands explored those lovely thighs. I got up to the hem of the short skirt and fumbled there for a moment. She raised her hips slightly and pulled the skirt up around her waist, never opening her eyes. I moved my hand up along the inner thigh and felt the extra warmth there and she moved her thighs slightly apart.
'Oh, yes,' she breathed, moving hips and torso under my touch.
I found her mouth again with mine, and she opened it to receive me. We explored each other slowly. My hand had reached the lace panties now. I pulled them down over the olive-bronze swell of hips and tummy, down over the long legs, and she kicked them off. Then I felt her hand at my trousers. She was reaching for what she wanted so desperately. In a moment she had it and brought me to her. And then there was the delicious moment when we united.
Four
My foot struck the door with savage force, sending it crashing inward into the dim recesses of the room, splinters flying across the floor. I stepped into the room and looked around for Thinman. He was just struggling up from his grimy pallet bed.
'Damn you!' I growled at him.
He leaned away from me as I moved quickly past him, grabbed at a dirty drapery over a window and tore it off, dumping it in a heap on the floor. The room was flooded with sunlight. Thinman squinted against it, throwing a hand up to protect his eyes.
'What is it?' he said dully. 'What's going on?'
I strode over to him, grabbed at his soiled shirt front and pulled him off his feet, slamming him hard against the wall behind him. His eyes grew large and his mouth dropped open.
'You sent us out into the desert to get killed,' I growled at him.
He licked dry lips. 'Hell, no! I know better than that. They said they'd talk. That's the truth!'
I backhanded him across the face. 'You knew what they were going to do. But you figured, what's a couple of cops more or less. That's the truth.'
'I didn't know about the bomb — I swear it.'
I glared at him. 'Who said anything about a bomb?'
Awareness of his slip showed plainly in his face, and he looked away from me. 'Okay. They mentioned it. But what was I supposed to do?'
I pulled him off the wall, turned with him and threw a right into his sallow face. Bone crunched and he grunted loudly and fell to the floor. He lay there groaning, bleeding from the mouth and nose. He stared up at me with dull eyes.
'You could have told us,' I said. 'You took my money, remember?'
'Look, they do what they want,' he gasped. 'You want me to get myself killed?'
Reaching down, I pulled him roughly to his feet.
'Better us than you, huh?' I said bitterly. I pulled his head up sharply with one hand, forcing him to look into my eyes. 'Listen to me carefully. I want some names and some information. If I don't get what I want, I'm going to kill you.'
He looked at me, studying my face, wondering. 'Who are you?' he said. 'You don't act like a cop.'
I plowed another fist into him, lower this time, near the belly. He yelled and sank to his knees. 'That's for asking,' I said. 'Now, you tell me how to get in contact with the New Brotherhood without getting my head blown off.'
'They're not interested,' Thinman gasped, his face twisted with pain. 'Nothing I can do.'
I kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him over. He lay there without moving, making moaning sounds in his throat. I knelt beside him and let Hugo slip into my palm.
'You see this?' I asked.
His eyes focused on the gleaming stiletto.
'I'm going to kill you a little at a time,' I told him, 'unless you get your memory back in a big hurry.'
'What do you want?' he said finally.
'Who planted the bomb? Was it an order from Bovet?'
He shook his head. 'I don't honestly know. I talked to one of his three lieutenants, a man named Selim el Bekri, an Egyptian. Maybe el Bekri acted on his own. A Brother, a cousin of his, was killed recently. The word is that he was killed by an American, possibly CIA. Naturally, el Bekri would not be exactly friendly toward any snooping American now.'
I grunted. There was that reference again to the death of a Brother about the time of Drummond's murder. But Drummond would have mentioned having to kill a man in the note he left.
'Who are Pierre Bovet's other lieutenants?' I asked.
&
nbsp; 'I have told you all I can. For God's sake!'
I moved Hugo to a point just over Thinman's right eyeball. 'Maybe I'll blind you first,' I said. 'Do you know how easily a slim blade penetrates the ball of the eye?' I moved the stiletto closer to his eye.
He sucked in his breath. 'All right!' he yelled. 'The other two are an Italian named Carlo Mazzini, from Sicily, and a man known as Reynaldo.'
Thinman was telling the truth finally. The Sicilian would be the man Fayeh mentioned. The preliminary questioning was over.
'All right,' I said. 'Now, if I wanted to buy drugs from the New Brotherhood, in sizable quantities, how would I go about it?' Thinman licked his lips again and sweat gleamed on his brow and upper Up. 'I know a middleman who sells to the pushers. He gets his stuff directly from a Brother.'
'How?' I persisted.
Thinman screwed up his gaunt face in mental agony and glanced at the open door, as if a Brother might be lurking outside. 'He fronts as a peddler out at the pyramids. Every Wednesday he sits there against a wall, not far from the Sphinx, and waits for his contact. About mid-morning the Brother comes, buys a bag of basboussa and leaves a package of uncut heroin. The payment for the heroin is in the bag of basboussa sweets.'
Now I was getting somewhere. 'How would I identify this peddler?'
Thinman sighed heavily. I held the stiletto close to his face. 'He always wears a blue-striped djellaba and a dark red fez. He has a small scar on his right cheek. You can't mistake him. The Brother who makes the transaction is called Abdullah.'
I took Hugo away from Thinman's face. 'You know, Thinman, you can be a very co-operative fellow. One last question, where is the headquarters of this super-secret New Brotherhood?'
He stared at me. 'Do you think I would know that?' He shook his head. 'Only Brotherhood members know. And it means death to talk.'
I decided that was probably the truth. 'Okay.' I stuck the stiletto into my belt and stood up. Thinman relaxed a little. I kicked him in the side and he grunted, as much in surprise as pain.
That's just a reminder,' I said, 'of what will happen to you if you mention this talk to anybody.'
I walked to the open door, stopped and looked around the room. 'You really ought to clean this place up,' I said. 'It's a mess.'