“Walid, this is Abigail.”

  “And this is my wife, Mona.” Walid nodded to the cheerful woman who appeared beside him.

  “Come in, come in,” Mona said. “You must be starving.” She ushered them inside and indicated they should sit at a large table, while Walid walked over to watch TV. As far as Abigail could see, it was a soccer game. She thought it rather strange that Walid did not want to speak with Riley at once. Still, Riley had told her several times that things were done differently in Cairo.

  Mona set bowls of chicken, rice, and vegetables in front of Abigail and Riley. Walid stopped watching television for a moment. “Eat your fill,” he insisted.

  Abigail was starving, but by the time she finished, she couldn’t eat another bite.

  “You must have more,” Walid urged her, still keeping one eye on the television. He went back to watching TV while Mona disappeared into the kitchen.

  Riley leaned close to Abigail. “Leave some on your plate to show you’re full.”

  The penny dropped. Abigail smiled with relief. Her relief was short lived when Mona came to the table and deposited stuffed pancakes in front of her.

  Abigail was careful to leave some this time.

  “What a shame the men have business,” Mona said to Abigail. “We have a seven-hour video of Walid’s cousin’s wedding. It has a wonderful parade through the streets to the reception center and some dancing in a hall.”

  “That sounds fascinating,” Abigail said. “Thanks so much for the lovely meal.”

  “I’ll fetch some fruit. We can eat while the men talk,” Mona said. She disappeared to the kitchen while Walid reluctantly turned off the television and nodded to Riley. They moved to a corner of the small apartment and leaned in close, their heads together. Abigail watched as Riley nodded from time to time. She had no idea what he was saying. She was unable to hear.

  After the men finished talking, Abigail thanked Mona and Walid, and Riley ushered her to the elevator. Once safely inside, she said, “What generous hosts! I don’t think I will be able to eat for at least a week.”

  Riley chuckled. “I’m sorry. I should have told you to leave some on your plate. They’ll keep refilling your plate until you leave a little.”

  “Are you able to tell me what Walid said?”

  “Yes, we’re to meet our contact at The Hanging Church.”

  “So, he’s going to hand over the papyrus there?” Abigail asked.

  Riley nodded.

  “But is it safe?” she asked. “Is a public place safe?”

  “I don’t think there’s an option,” Riley said, “unless maybe a restaurant, but a public place has more exits. Anyway, it was his decision.”

  Abigail nodded slowly. “We’re going there now?”

  Riley checked his watch. “Yes. It’s not too far. We’ll catch a taxi.”

  Abigail shuddered.

  This time, Abigail could see more of the road through a bigger hole in the taxi’s floor. She maneuvered her feet so that they weren’t anywhere near the hole, concerned her feet would go through the rusted structure. This driver also drove fast and in a rather haphazard manner. Abigail decided the best course of action was to shut her eyes firmly and planted her palms over them.

  When the taxi slowed, she opened her eyes and saw the Coptic Museum. She longed to go in there and look at the ancient Christian art, but more pressing matters were at hand. She hoped the Director was right—that this was going to be a simple mission. As soon as her feet hit the pavement, a wave of nausea flooded over her. She figured it was jet lag mixed with carsickness. She gulped in some air and then coughed when she realized she had breathed in exhaust fumes.

  Riley took Abigail by her arm and guided her toward The Hanging Church. Abigail could not help but look at her surroundings. She knew the church was one of the oldest in Cairo. It was magnificent, perched on top of second century Roman ruins.

  As Riley and Abigail walked through the iron gates under a pointed stone arch, Abigail looked up at the twin bell towers beyond the narrow courtyard. She could scarcely take her eyes from the magnificent courtyard. Potted plants lined the courtyard walls, and the grassy areas in the center of the courtyard contained a single huge plant each. Abigail was taken by the beautiful and colorful mosaics on the wall.

  “We won’t have much time,” Riley said. “I need you to tell me if the papyrus is authentic.”

  Abigail nodded. She had already told the Director that a good copy would fool her. After all, she was a translator, not an appraiser of ancient artifacts. Still, she would know a blatant fake if she saw it.

  The pair joined the throng of people climbing the stairs to the interior. “We’re meeting him inside,” Riley told her.

  Once inside, Abigail’s concentration on the mission was challenged, surrounded as she was by magnificent icons.

  She could see Riley looking around for his contact. She too cast her eyes this way and that but could see nobody obvious. Her eyes alighted on a wooden screen decorated with geometric patterns in ivory.

  Just then, a scream pierced the air.

  7

  CAIRO

  Abigail followed Riley over to the screen. A man was lying dead on the floor, a crying woman standing over him. Riley bent down to take the man’s pulse, but Abigail could clearly see he was dead.

  “What happened?” Riley asked the woman. Abigail couldn’t hear her reply because the crowd gathered around the man and pressed in on them.

  “Can you see the papyrus, or his backpack, briefcase anything?” Riley urgently asked Abigail.

  She looked around, but couldn’t. “No. Vortex?”

  Riley nodded, a grim look on his face. He took the elderly woman by the arm and guided her outside, away from the noise of the crowd encircling the body.

  “What happened?” His tone was soothing.

  Abigail shot her a reassuring smile.

  “A man told me it was his brother’s birthday and paid me to give him a surprise gift,” she said.

  Abigail and Riley exchanged glances. “Go on,” Riley said.

  The woman dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “The man said his brother’s name was Fouad. He showed me a photo of him. He handed me a box and told me that when I saw that man, I had to stand in front of him and open the box.”

  “What was in the box?” Riley asked her.

  The woman burst into uncontrollable sobs. Abigail patted her gently on the back. Finally, the woman spoke again. “Bees,” she said.

  “Bees?” Abigail echoed.

  The woman nodded. “It was a box of bees. I think one must have stung the man, because he fell down dead.”

  “He must have been allergic to beestings,” Abigail said.

  “Was the man carrying anything?” Riley asked her.

  The woman shrugged. “I can’t remember.”

  “It’s very important,” Riley said gently. “It would be a big help if you could remember if he was carrying something. A briefcase? Or maybe he had a backpack?”

  The woman pressed her hands over her eyes for a moment and then said, “I think someone stole his backpack.”

  “Do you remember what they looked like?”

  “Just a teenager,” she said. “A young boy.”

  Riley let out a long sigh. “And can you describe the man who asked you to give the box to Fouad?”

  The woman nodded. “He looked like you, only thinner and with dark hair. He had a big nose and small eyes.”

  “Is there anything else you remember?” Riley prompted her.

  The woman burst into sobs once more. “The police, the police,” she wailed.

  “I don’t think you should wait around for the police,” Riley said. “Why don’t you leave now? We won’t tell anyone. You were tricked by a wicked man, and it isn’t your fault.” He ended the sentence firmly.

  The woman shot him a grateful look and then walked quickly out of the courtyard.

  “We had better leave before the police get here,” Riley said to Abigail, already walking at a fast pace away from The Hanging Church.

  “Let’s get this right,” Abigail said as she hurried to catch up to him. “I’m not entirely sure what happened. A Vortex agent must have known about the man’s allergy to beestings, and so he got a civilian to hand the man the box. Is that right?”

  Riley nodded. “It seems so.”

  “And did he pay a kid to steal the man’s backpack?”

  “That’s my guess as well,” Riley said. “Excuse me a moment.” He pulled out his phone.

  From the snippets of conversation she overheard, Abigail realized Riley was reporting to RHTF.

  When he hung up, she said, “So, Vortex has the papyrus.”

  “It looks that way,” Riley said, “but perhaps this Fouad guy made a copy.”

  Abigail’s hopes rose. “Do you think he did?”

  “I don’t know, but it would make sense if he did. We’ll have to book some rooms at a hotel while I make enquiries. First, we’ll find somewhere to eat.”

  “Can we maybe rent a car?” Abigail asked hopefully.

  Riley shook his head. “Parking would be a nightmare.”

  A short and unnerving taxi ride later, Abigail found herself in an area of car repairs and auto shops. She followed Riley into an unassuming and dirty white building with lettering in bright red and navy blue. The restaurant was crowded.

  “No tables available downstairs,” Riley said. “Let’s try upstairs.”

  Several tables upstairs were available, so Riley chose the one furthest from the stairs. As usual, he sat with his back to the wall. He wasted no time ordering.

  Abigail found the pungent odor of cigarette smoke overpowering. “Is there a non-smoking section?” she asked Riley as soon as the waiter left.

  He chuckled. “You’re sitting in it. Most patrons ignore it. That’s the way it is in Cairo. Anyway, I’ve ordered koshari.”

  Abigail grimaced. She had no idea what koshari was. She soon discovered it was a dish of lentils, rice, and noodles, covered with something that tasted like pizza sauce, and topped with fried onions. It was followed by a sweet dish of rice in milk.

  Throughout the meal, Riley was distracted, checking texts on his phone. Abigail reflected that it was so different from the dinner date she’d almost had with Riley in Pennsylvania. How long ago was that? A day? Two? She couldn’t quite figure it out, not with the different time zones and the jet lag and adrenaline fogging her brain.

  Abigail knew Riley wouldn’t tell her what he had found out while they remained in a public place. If he couldn’t track down the copy, then she expected they would fly home.

  Riley barely spoke a word until they had finished their meal. “I’ve booked a room in a hotel next to the main train station in Ramses Square. I’ll let you settle in, then I’ll come to your room and give you an update.”

  By the time they reached the hotel, Abigail’s nerves were on edge: the constant noise, the busy roads, the fast driving. Still, her room was comfortable enough. Abigail took a shower and then paced up and down. She couldn’t relax until Riley told her what was happening.

  It seemed like an age before Riley knocked on the door.

  Abigail opened the door and gasped in shock. Gone was Riley’s sandy colored hair. It was now black. “Your hair! It’s black!” Abigail sputtered.

  He slipped inside the room and locked and bolted the door behind him. “This is for you.”

  Abigail looked inside the paper bag to see a bottle of hair color. “You want me to dye my hair black too?”

  Riley nodded. “Vortex agents will only recognize us from photos. They don’t know us by sight, so they won’t recognize us with dark hair.”

  Abigail bit her lip. She was blessed with naturally blonde hair, and she had always treated it carefully. She used the natural approach with her hair, and after she washed it, she always used a chamomile tea rinse made for her by her Amish friend, Mary. The last thing Abigail wanted to do was to color her hair, but she had no choice. “Oh well, safety first,” she said to herself.

  Riley quirked one eyebrow. “What was that?”

  “I was just talking to myself.” Abigail remembered the last mission. “No burner phone?”

  Riley shook his head. “Not this time. This was supposed to be a simple retrieval.”

  “You said you’d fill me in?”

  Riley’s expression at once turned gloomy. “It’s not good news, I’m afraid. I was concerned when our contact was killed by bees, and RHTF confirmed it. It looks as though we’re dealing with The Viper.”

  “The Viper?” Abigail wasn’t sure she had heard right.

  Riley nodded and handed Abigail another package. She looked inside, concerned lest it was another disguise. To her relief, it was a box of chocolates. “Chocolates?” she said. “Thanks, but I don’t think I could eat another thing.”

  Riley threw himself down on a brightly colored orange floral chair nearby. “Chocolate is meant to be shared.”

  Abigail chuckled. She opened the chocolates and set them in front of Riley. He immediately popped one in his mouth.

  “The Viper is a dangerous man. He’s a mercenary for hire and it looks as though Vortex have hired him. I’ve never come face-to-face with him, but I know him by reputation.”

  “So, he’s an assassin?” Abigail asked.

  “Yes, but he’s known for killing people by unusual means.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Abigail said. “He sounds mentally unbalanced.”

  Riley shrugged one shoulder. “He has quite a reputation. As far as I know, he hasn’t worked for Vortex before, but he has been involved in some high-profile cases.”

  Something occurred to Abigail. “Does anyone know what he looks like?”

  “He’s tall and thin with a large hooked nose,” Riley said. “Nobody has ever taken a photo of him.”

  “The lady who opened the packet of bees described a man like that.”

  “Yes, that snippet of a description along with the method of killing our contact seems to suggest it’s The Viper.”

  Abigail popped a chocolate in her mouth. She wasn’t hungry, as the koshari had been quite a heavy meal, but she was confident she needed to comfort eat. “What’s our mission? I take it we don’t fly home now.”

  “No. The Director wants us to discover the identity of the victim and go to his apartment to see if he made a copy of the papyrus.”

  “Wouldn’t The Viper have already done that?”

  Riley paused in the act of popping another chocolate into his mouth. “I doubt it. Vortex would have ordered him to take the papyrus and dispose of the man who intended to sell it to us. He has a good head start on us now at any rate. I imagine he’s already on his way to handing over the papyrus to Vortex.”

  Abigail rubbed her forehead. “What happens now? Specifically, I mean. I take it you’re making enquiries as to the victim’s identity?”

  Riley nodded slowly. “I’ll likely hear back sometime in the night, probably by morning. We’ll stay in this hotel until I hear.” He stood up and placed his hand lightly on Abigail’s shoulder. “Try to get some sleep. And only open the door when you hear my voice.”

  Abigail walked Riley to the door. She locked it and bolted it as soon as he left and then leaned back against it. It was nice to share chocolates with Riley. She could imagine they were on a real date. And they had been on a real date, if only for a few minutes. Abigail allowed herself a small smile at what the future might hold.

  Abigail was unable to sleep a wink because of the noise from the street below. Despite being awfully tired, sleep eluded her. Hawkers competed to be heard over the yells of other hawkers. Pedestrians hurled abuse at hawkers and other pedestrians. Teenagers shouted into their phones. Taxis honked. Machinery clanked. Drink vendors loudly declared they were squeezing the juice out of sugar cane, oranges, and pomegranates. Customers argued with waiters over plates of koshari. Police sirens were loud enough to be heard over the rabble. Trains roared into the station. Passengers alighted into the waiting arms of touts and porters, all clamouring for attention. Shoemakers hammered soles onto sandals. Key-cutters pushed screeching metal onto angle-grinders. The noise was relentless.

  Finally, she was jolted awake by Riley’s voice at the door.

  She struggled out of bed. “What time is it?” she asked by way of greeting.

  “Time to get going,” Riley said. “Something’s happened.”

  8

  CAIRO

  Abigail hurried to the bathroom, dressed as fast as she could, and then followed Riley out the door.

  “We have the contact’s name,” he said. “Our analysts tracked him down. Apparently, a former employee of the Cairo Museum texted another email to another retired employee stating he had seen the papyrus that mentioned Goliath’s spear.”

  “How did they get the name out of that?” she asked Riley.

  “They knew his Christian name was Fouad, so they searched all the retired man’s phone calls. They found he did on occasion call Fouad.”

  “Did they mention the papyrus?”

  Riley raised one eyebrow. “No, no. They were too careful for that. Fouad was likely dealing in stolen goods.”

  “Where are we going now?” Abigail asked as the elevator doors opened.

  A man and a woman stepped inside the elevator, and Riley did not respond until they were on the noisy street. “New City,” he said close to her ear.

  They caught a taxi. This one was in a better state of repair, but the driver still drove as fast as humanly possible. Abigail found the solution was to shut her eyes tightly.

  She didn’t open her eyes until the taxi screeched to a stop so suddenly that she was flung forward in her seat.

  This area of Cairo was not as busy as the one she had previously seen. All the buildings around her looked new.

  “We’ll walk from here,” Riley said. “It’s possible Vortex agents are watching Fouad’s apartment, although I think that’s unlikely. It’s a remote possibility, nonetheless.”