“An elderly man, most likely traveling alone.”
Zaher frowned and shrugged. “I’ve seen a few today.”
“Mind if I have a look at the manifest?”
Zaher shifted his weight and threw a glance over his shoulder at his colleague. The other officer paid them no attention, still checking the papers of the Isuzu truck loaded with tires.
“Yes, I do mind. I can’t just show it to everyone who asks.”
Xander resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This wasn’t the first hesitation he’d seen that day. Not wanting to waste time with threats of interfering with an investigation and causing a scene, he opened his wallet again. He took out the last of his cash—five hundred Egyptian pounds—and held it out.
Zaher studied the Egyptian bills in Xander’s hand, then nodded. “Come with me.”
A minute later, Xander sat at the desk inside the shack, reading the first page of the manifest. He scanned the list of names, nationalities, destinations, points of departure, then shook his head and pulled out a phone to snap a picture. If Soliman had thought this through, which he probably had, he could very well be traveling under a fake name. Xander would have to mark the ones that fit Soliman’s profile and send a list of names in to be thoroughly investigated. He flipped to the second page, the names merging together in a blur.
Rubbing his temples, Xander closed his eyes. How was it even possible he was doing this? Taking part in a manhunt for Soliman. Soliman, who had only ever been kind to him. Who had given Xander a second chance. Who thought of almost nothing else other than archaeology. Who meticulously cared for every artifact he handled like it was priceless. Who would never do something like blow up a museum. Who had strangely been missing since the previous morning, despite never having missed a day of work in his life. Xander’s phone rang, tearing him from his thoughts. He checked the display.
It was Jones, the station chief.
After a quick glance at the guard, who had taken his place outside the shack, Xander stood. The door was wide open, and as a precaution, he pushed it shut, then hit the green phone button.
“Harrison.”
“Report to the safe house. Immediately.”
“What’s happening?”
Jones took a moment before he replied, “You’re off the case.”
Xander froze. Blast. They must have figured out his connection. “What d’you mean?”
“You’re off the case. I’ll tell you more when you get here. Actually, there are quite a few things I’d like to ask you.”
Furrowing his brow, Xander glanced out the window as the tire-laden truck rolled past the guard shack, continuing on its way toward Sharm El-Sheikh. Why was his boss being so cryptic? If it was about Aisha and Sami, Jones would have told him to go home.
“You can’t just drop this on me. Give me a bone to chew.”
After a stream of expletives, Jones indulged him, his voice impatient, “Around zero-three-hundred someone walked into Dr. Soliman’s house. This new person-of-interest was armed with a Glock and carried a backpack with an artifact inside.”
Xander lowered himself into the chair and glanced at the list on the table. “Sounds like he could be one of those Medjay characters.”
“Mm-hmm,” Jones agreed. “This is where you come in.”
Xander drummed his fingers on the tabletop, waiting. Nothing would surprise him at this point.
“Her name is Leila Sterling.”
The room spun as a wave of cold splashed over Xander. Leila… arrested? There had to be some mistake. She wouldn’t break into houses and steal artifacts. Then he realized the irony of that thought. He was the blazing idiot who had introduced her to the sport.
“Harrison?”
Cursing himself, Xander raked his fingers through his hair. “You… You’re sure it’s her?”
“It’s her.”
Xander sucked in his breath. Jones was articulate; he wouldn’t mistake someone else for Leila. And he certainly wouldn’t lie or bait Xander about it.
“Right. I’m on my way.” He stood and snatched the manifest, then headed for the door. “Has anyone talked to her yet? Can you wait until I get there?”
“Hawkins will take care of it,” Jones said with finality.
“No one speaks to her until I’m there.” Xander swung the door open and stormed out of the shack and past the guard.
“Hawkins will start in fifteen minutes.”
“Hey,” Zaher called after Xander and fell into a trot behind him. “The manifest stays here.”
Xander ignored him. “Tell Hawkins not to start without me. I need to be there.” He cursed under his breath as he neared the car. “She didn’t do anything. Her mother and brother could have been blown to bits.”
“Harrison, get over here. We’ll speak in person.”
“Right. We’ll talk in person.” Xander yanked his car door open. “And Hawkins will stay away from her. Wait until I’m there.” Xander threw the log papers into the backseat of the car and slid behind the wheel, slamming the door. “She has nothing to do with it.”
“I’m sure the girl will appreciate your loyalty,” Jones drawled.
Xander gritted his teeth and hung up. He turned the ignition just as a knock came at the car window. The second officer stood outside, motioning for him to roll down the window. Xander popped the door open.
“Where are you going with those papers?” the policeman asked. “Show me your ID.”
