Chapter Twenty-Eight
Novikov disliked dealing with men like those who now sat before him.
It wasn’t because they were bad men; he couldn’t have cared less about that.
He was a bad man himself, who did terrible things to people.
It was that they were amateurs. They killed and robbed for money, but did so at the lowest level of society.
Unfortunately, it was also what made them particularly useful for his current predicament.
He had contacts far and wide throughout the Middle East, it was the nature of his business, and so he often found himself working with individuals who were untrustworthy, unprofessional, and unlikeable.
This included the Taliban in Afghanistan, ISIS in Syria, and his current business partners, the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt.
These men had been part of the movement after the Arab Spring, when the Egyptian people overthrew their dictator, Hosni Mubarak, and eventually put in power Mohamed Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood.
That had lasted for a time before the military seized control and put a former general in power, which had left men like those in front of him penniless and desperate.
Which made them just the type of people he needed.
He simply could have killed the Metry woman, but there were complications.
He had picked a well-known café in the Khan El Khalili market to alleviate her suspicions.
She likely would not suspect that any harm would come to her in a crowded tourist spot, and she was right.
But the multitude of alleys and side streets in the enormous souk provided ample opportunities for a wayward tourist to be stabbed and robbed.
Not only would it go largely unnoticed in the throngs of people, but it wasn’t an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence.
Novikov could have done the job himself, but there were too many approaches to cover.
He needed a larger force, hence the Muslim Brotherhood foot soldiers.
Fortunately, the men came at a relatively cheap price.
Naturally, he had tried to avoid all of this.
She was from Cairo and so there were multiple threads to pull on in his search for her.
Too many, in fact. He had figured she would stay with family, but the problem was that Novikov had found extensive family records and had no way of knowing which ones she was staying with.
He had checked out her grandparents’ place as well as several others but came up empty.
His only choice now was to hit her in the one place he knew she would be time-and-place predictable, and that was the meeting he had scheduled with her through Richter’s email.
“You understand the plan?” he asked in Arabic as he put down his tea.
The head of the group sat across from him. The man picked the picture up off the table and studied the headshot of the attractive female that Novikov had been sent by his handlers.
“Aywa,” the man affirmed. Yes. “We will kill the girl. You will pay now?”
“Half now,” Novikov replied, “and half upon completion.”
“Kwayyis.” Good.
“But she must die. And if she has a computer, you must bring it to me.”
“Kwayyis,” the man repeated.
“Tomorrow. Be in place before noon.”
With that, he finished his tea, stood up, and left the small shop.
He didn’t trust these men, but he knew they would do what was asked.
He needn’t fear their ability to do the job, but he would have to be cautious when he paid them the second half of their fee.
Men like this were prone to greed and double cross.
Regardless, he would be there tomorrow to observe and ensure that things ran smoothly and that the job was carried out correctly.
Nate had severely underestimated the size of the entrance to the Grand Egyptian Museum.
The newly opened building was huge, as was the plaza leading up to it.
People walked back and forth, moving in all directions, and it gave him the feeling of observing a life-sized anthill.
With such a large space, it was a wonder two people would ever be able to find each other.
He didn’t see Ahmed upon arriving and so chose to stand directly in front of the entrance, groups of people walking around either side of him.
He was a little early, which was fine. The aspiring archaeologist enjoyed being so near to such a fascinating part of history, and he once again lamented the fact that he would most likely not have the opportunity to tour the Giza Plateau, Saqqara—the ancient necropolis southwest of Cairo that contained the oldest known stone pyramid—or even the museum in front of which he now stood.
He promised himself that he would make time on the next trip.
“Marhaban,” a familiar voice said from behind him, and he turned to see Ahmed smiling. The Saudi officer must have exited the museum, and Nate was momentarily jealous. Had he not been so jet-lagged Nate would have thought to get up earlier and tour the museum before their meeting as well.
“Marhaban sadiqi,” Nate replied with a warm smile. The two men shook hands, followed by a brief hug.
“You look good, Ahmed,” Nate said. Ahmed was wearing a light-gray suit and looked as if he had barely aged a day. “A major now, yes?” he asked in Arabic.
“Na’am,” Ahmed replied. “And you? Almost a doctor, I think, yes?”
“Almost,” Nate laughed. The two moved over to a bench and sat down.
“How are things?” Nate asked.
“Busy,” Ahmed responded. “Unfortunately, the Middle East is no safer now than it was before. Maybe less so these days.”
“I understand,” Nate agreed.
The two men made small talk for a while.
Ahmed told him of his work and his new posting in Riyadh within the General Intelligence Presidency, careful not to share too much information.
He talked about his wife and their new little son.
Then he asked about the others, to which Nate replied that he had seen some of them recently and they were doing well, but didn’t elaborate on how recently or that they were only blocks away from where they now sat.
Nate told him about his research into Ubar, and how Ahmed had inspired the course of his entire academic career, which caused him to beam with pride.
Finally, Ahmed turned and pulled a large manila envelope from his bag.
“Here are the images you asked for. They are not recent. I could not have given you recent information. You understand.”
“Of course,” Nate agreed.
“They are from the same time that you viewed them before. But I think you are more interested in history than recent events, yes?” Ahmed asked.
“Yes,” Nate said, taking the envelope from him. “Ahmed, I really appreciate this. I know you took a huge risk bringing this to me.”
“It is okay, my friend. I owe you much more. I owe you my life.” Ahmed had spoken emphatically after the attack in Yemen about how Nate and Tim had saved their lives by holding off the siege of their camp. Like many from tribal lineages, he took this debt very seriously.
“Ahmed, you’re a very good friend” was all Nate said. The two sat there a moment longer, the awkward silence building. There was one more piece of their business to be conducted. Finally, Ahmed cleared his throat and looked away at the magnificent museum.
“I could not get the permit,” he said quickly, as if trying to get it out before he changed his mind.
Nate felt a pit in his stomach. He had known this was the most likely outcome but had still maintained a sliver of hope that things would be easy.
Now they would have to go with plan B, which was fraught with danger and uncertainty.
Still, the thought of the adventure ahead excited him and helped dampen any negative emotions. He put a hand on Ahmed’s shoulder.
“It’s okay. I’m sure you did everything you could.”
“I did,” Ahmed replied quickly. “With the war the way it is, and regular rocket attacks from the south, the Ministry of Culture is not willing to allow an outside expedition that could be injured or killed. I am sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Nate said. “That is a very wise decision. You have done more than enough.” He lifted his hand, indicating the envelope he held in it. Ahmed stood and smoothed out his suit.
“I must take my leave. It was good to see you.” The two men embraced.
“You too, Ahmed.”
“If you ever need anything else, anything at all, you have only need ask,” Ahmed said with sincerity.
“Thanks, Ahmed.” Nate smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”