Chapter Sixteen
Gabriela sat back and watched downtown Cairo roll by.
They were on one of several major highways that cut through the city, and the view was of new office buildings, shopping centers, high-rise apartment buildings, and hotels.
Traffic was slow moving, but at least it wasn’t at a standstill, she thought.
The cityscape eventually gave way to residential clusters.
Some new and some more traditional. She’d heard that there were massive slums northeast of the city like the favelas in Rio.
A place where the homeless could create a home of sorts.
She’d never been there, but she’d seen pictures.
She was more familiar with the traditional neighborhoods of multifamily brown and tan adobe houses that were found throughout Egypt.
Generation upon generation, living on top of each other.
You grow up and you get married, and you add a floor to the house.
The rebar was already there, waiting for the new generation.
Gabriela thought it was brilliant. Not for her, necessarily, but for others.
She loved her parents. That didn’t mean she wanted to live above them in Scoon, South Carolina, for the rest of her life.
Jim moved highway to highway, and the flow of traffic picked up.
He turned onto Salah Salem Street, the highway that led to the airport.
He drove for two miles and turned into a residential area of block after block of the mud-brick multifloored houses.
After several blocks he picked up another highway with businesses on both sides of the road.
“I know that shortcut to our destination because yet another of my cousins lives with her in-laws in one of those houses,” Jim said. “They are very nice on the inside. Thick walls to keep them cool in the afternoon.”
He pulled into a narrow parking lot that serviced a row of single-level structures. A dentist, a grocery, an insurance broker, and Mausud Freight Forwarding.
“This is Mausud,” he said, angle parking in front of the office.
“It’s a strip mall,” Rafer said. “I expected a warehouse.”
“The warehouse is the last very large building on the end,” Jim said.
Gabriela got out of the cab and walked to the door.
Mausud Freight Forwarding was printed in gold letters on the glass.
She pushed through the door and stepped into a front office that was grimly utilitarian.
Gray tile floor and beige walls. An uncomfortable-looking modern couch and two matching chairs occupied a corner.
A metal and faux-wood desk had been placed at the back of the room, next to a hallway.
A pleasant-looking woman was at the desk.
“I’d like to speak to the manager, if he’s available,” Gabriela said to the woman, passing a card over to her.
“Of course,” the woman said. “That would be Rocky Mausud. Let me check to see if he’s busy.” She walked down the short hall to an open door and spoke in Arabic. She turned toward Gabriela. “This way,” she said.
Mausud stood at his desk when Gabriela and Rafer entered.
The desk was littered with stacks of files, crumpled papers, a Red Sox ball cap, a MacBook Pro, and a coffee mug filled with various pens and markers.
He had a wide smile and perfect ultra-white teeth.
He was stocky, with thinning dark brown hair.
Nicely dressed in a button-down shirt and dress slacks.
“Do you speak English?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said. “I grew up in the States, and I graduated from Harvard.”
Red flag. Alarm going off in Gabriela’s brain. Clang, clang, clang. He might have been at Harvard at the same time as Harry Bench.
She gave him her card and introduced Rafer as her associate. “We’re doing a background check for a client who is interested in shipping goods from New York to Cairo. They would be of a sensitive nature.”
“We’re very discreet,” Rocky said.
“Suppose my client had many items to be crated and shipped?” Gabriela asked.
“That isn’t a problem. We can go on-site to assist in packing and crating. We can also assist in transport to the airport if necessary.”
“I have to ask,” Rafer said. “Your name is Rocky?”
“My father is a great fan of the Rocky movies.”
Gabriela smiled. “Is your father involved in the business?”
“He’s semi-retired. He spends much of his time in the States. He’s there now. Football season.” Rocky passed a folder over to Gabriela. “You’ll find all the information you need in here. And if not, you can always call, and we’ll get you an answer.”
Gabriela opened the folder and flipped through the pages. Pricing, availability, process, some photos. The caption under a photo caught her eye. Fooze loading a piano destined for Carnegie Hall.
“Here’s another unusual name,” Gabriela said. “Fooze.”
“That’s my cousin,” Rocky said.
“He works here as well?”
“Yes. We’re a family business.”
“Is Fooze here now?”
“Fooze is in Luxor for a few days organizing a large shipment that will be going to London.”
“I expected your office to be attached to a warehouse,” Gabriela said. “What if my schedule requires storage for a brief period?”
“We have a climate-controlled storage area at the end of this strip of buildings,” Rocky said.
“Climate controlled would be critical,” Gabriela said. “Would it be possible for me to see your storage facility?”
“Of course,” Rocky said. “I’ll walk with you. I have business to discuss with my storage manager.”
Rocky walked Rafer and Gabriela past a real estate office, a falafel shop, an insurance office, and a teahouse.
“This is our storage facility,” he said, opening the door.
“As you can see, it is very pleasant inside. And very orderly. Everything is crated and labeled. Large jobs are placed in shipping containers when possible. We have a loading dock at the back of the building.”
Gabriela didn’t think it was especially orderly. She thought it was more like organized chaos. They walked the length of the facility and back, and Gabriela thanked Rocky for his time and said they would be in touch.
Gabriela and Rafer stepped outside, and Gabriela waved Jim over to pick them up.
“Way to go, Gabs,” Rafer said when they were back in the car. “You didn’t miss a beat when you found that picture of Fooze. I thought you’d at least do your happy dance.”
“I don’t have a happy dance.”
“Yeah, you do. It’s where you get all bouncy, jumping up and down and twirling around while you sing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus.’ ”
“When did I ever do that?”
“I don’t want to tell secrets in front of Jim, but there were times when we were together and… you know.”
“That is very impressive, to get a woman to sing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus,’ ” Jim said.
“I never sang the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’!” Gabriela said.
“Oh yeah, you sang it,” Rafer said.
“Never!”
“I see this is becoming a heated argument,” Jim said. “I have snacks. Would anyone like a KitKat?”
“Sure,” Rafer said.
“And I also have Snickers bars today.”
“I’ll take the Snickers,” Gabriela said.
“What will we be doing now?” Jim asked.
“I’m going to Luxor,” Gabriela said.
“Me too,” Rafer said.
“And me?” Jim asked. “Am I going to Luxor? You will most likely need a guide and a translator and someone with snacks.”
“What about Harley?” Rafer asked. “Do we leave him in the hotel?”
“He’s going to be on crutches for a couple weeks,” Gabriela said. “I’m thinking about sending him back home.”
“That could be a problem,” Rafer said. “Home has to be someplace where he’ll be safe.”
“My apartment, your house, my parents’ house, his parents’ house, and your parents’ house are not on the safe list,” Gabriela said.
“Agreed.”
“I can’t stick Marcella with him,” Gabriela said. “She’s a single mom who lives with her mother.”
“He needs a keeper,” Rafer said. “Maybe we can temporarily put him in one of those assisted living places.”
“I’ll think about it later,” Gabriela said. “Right now I need to do some research before heading to Luxor.”
“If we are going to Luxor, we should not drive,” Jim said. “It is a long drive. Eight hours if nothing goes wrong. And something going wrong is a good possibility. There are many excellent flights that we can take. When we get there, I can borrow my cousin Souki’s car, if we need one.”
“I’d like to fly out first thing in the morning,” Gabriela said. “I need an address for Fooze. Either a hotel or the residence where he’s packing things for shipment. Marcella might be able to hack into the Mausud records. If she’s not successful, I’ll have to find out for myself later tonight.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” Rafer said.
“It’s a small office with a front door and a back door,” Gabriela said. “I saw no sign of a security system. Not even a Ring doorbell. The short hallway that we walked down to get to Rocky’s office was lined with file cabinets. I’m guessing their files are all on paper.”
“And in Arabic,” Rafer said.
“I’ll take Jim with me,” Gabriela said.
“You want me to do B & E with you?” Jim asked.
Gabriela looked at him. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes,” Jim said. “I don’t usually do a crime. Maybe I run over a goat sometimes when I’m in the countryside, and once I forgot to pay at a grocery store, but it was for a small amount.”
“We wouldn’t be doing any damage,” Gabriela said. “We would simply go in and read some files. And then we would leave. It’s not nearly as serious as running over a goat.”
“I never run over them intentionally,” Jim said. “I think many of them are depressed and suicidal and stand in the road, waiting for me to end their miserable existence.”
“So, running over a goat is actually a good deed,” Rafer said.
“I think this is true,” Jim said. “And then if no one comes out of their house and is angry, I clear the road by putting the goat in my car and taking it to my cousin Sami, who is a butcher and excellent at making goat chops.”
Gabriela looked around the parking lot. “I haven’t seen the black SUV today. And no drones.”