kickbacks from souvenir shops if they directed tourists there, Chigaru wanted his percentage—a chance, as Sully often put it, to “dip his beak.”
“It looks nice,” Jada agreed, popping open the door. “I’ll be happy just to lie down.”
Drake slid from the backseat and dragged his duffel with him. They had stopped in the middle of nowhere—and nowhere might have been exaggerating its significance—to divvy up the guns Chigaru had acquired for them. Sully and Drake each had tucked Belgian FN Five-sevens in clip holsters at the small of their backs. An armpit holster would have been too conspicuous, and so would a jacket worn in the Egyptian heat. With their shirttails out, the guns would be hidden but easily accessible.
Jada had taken the SIG P250, a smaller, more compact weapon that carried a few rounds less. Her father had taught her to shoot at a range in upstate New York, but she had never even pointed a gun at another human being, so though she reluctantly accepted the weapon, she kept it in her duffel.
With a cold Coke in hand, the glass bottle dripping, Sully climbed out and leaned on the roof, looking over the top as Chigaru got out of the car.
“You know how to romance a guy, Chigaru,” Sully said. “You always take me to the nicest places.”
Chigaru smiled and patted his pockets, digging out his cigarettes and a lighter.
“You are on your own from here, my friends,” he said, glancing around at the three of them. “The car is yours. Leave it at the airport in Cairo when you’re done or text me and let me know where you’ve abandoned it and I’ll send someone to get it. You have my number should you require anything else.”
Sully grabbed his duffel and walked around to shake Chigaru’s hand. “I think we’ve got it as under control as we’re ever going to. I’ll see to it that the second half of your money is wired into your account before my head hits the pillow tonight.”
Drake fished another bottle of water out of the cooler in the car. The ice had melted almost completely by now, but the drinks were still cold enough to be sweet relief.
Chigaru gave a small bow, then dropped the car keys into Sully’s hand. “Good hunting, my friend.”
Jada and Drake thanked him as well and then fell into step with Sully, headed for the hotel. Chigaru remained by the car, leaning against the trunk of the car with his sunglasses glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
“What, he’s just going to hang around out here?” Jada asked, her voice low.
“A guy that suave? I’m sure someone’ll be along to pick him up,” Drake said.
“You’re just jealous that you’re not that suave.”
“Suave is overrated and very last century. I’m rugged and sometimes adorably awkward,” Drake replied.
Before Jada could fill the obvious opening with good-natured mockery, Sully pushed between them, shouldering them apart like a teacher worried that his young charges were dancing a little too close at a junior high school mixer.
“Can you two cut it out with the cute banter?” Sully said. “You’re making me nauseous.”
Drake smiled innocently. He would have liked to tell Sully that he was just trying to keep Jada’s mind off her father’s death and the reason they were in Egypt to begin with, but he didn’t want to talk about it with Jada right beside them.
“I’m sure Chigaru’s arranged for transport,” Sully told Jada. “I figure he’ll be gone within the hour.”
Drake glanced over his shoulder at Chigaru, who leaned against their car, smoking, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Even at a distance, the man looked in control of the world around him. He might have been little more than a minion for hire, but it was clear he didn’t see it that way.
“As soon as it gets dark, I’ll sweep the car,” Drake muttered to Sully.
“Sweep for what?” Jada asked.
“Bugs,” Sully said. “Maybe explosives.”
She paled. “We just drove more than two hours in that
“It looks nice,” Jada agreed, popping open the door. “I’ll be happy just to lie down.”
Drake slid from the backseat and dragged his duffel with him. They had stopped in the middle of nowhere—and nowhere might have been exaggerating its significance—to divvy up the guns Chigaru had acquired for them. Sully and Drake each had tucked Belgian FN Five-sevens in clip holsters at the small of their backs. An armpit holster would have been too conspicuous, and so would a jacket worn in the Egyptian heat. With their shirttails out, the guns would be hidden but easily accessible.
Jada had taken the SIG P250, a smaller, more compact weapon that carried a few rounds less. Her father had taught her to shoot at a range in upstate New York, but she had never even pointed a gun at another human being, so though she reluctantly accepted the weapon, she kept it in her duffel.
With a cold Coke in hand, the glass bottle dripping, Sully climbed out and leaned on the roof, looking over the top as Chigaru got out of the car.
“You know how to romance a guy, Chigaru,” Sully said. “You always take me to the nicest places.”
Chigaru smiled and patted his pockets, digging out his cigarettes and a lighter.
“You are on your own from here, my friends,” he said, glancing around at the three of them. “The car is yours. Leave it at the airport in Cairo when you’re done or text me and let me know where you’ve abandoned it and I’ll send someone to get it. You have my number should you require anything else.”
Sully grabbed his duffel and walked around to shake Chigaru’s hand. “I think we’ve got it as under control as we’re ever going to. I’ll see to it that the second half of your money is wired into your account before my head hits the pillow tonight.”
Drake fished another bottle of water out of the cooler in the car. The ice had melted almost completely by now, but the drinks were still cold enough to be sweet relief.
Chigaru gave a small bow, then dropped the car keys into Sully’s hand. “Good hunting, my friend.”
Jada and Drake thanked him as well and then fell into step with Sully, headed for the hotel. Chigaru remained by the car, leaning against the trunk of the car with his sunglasses glinting in the late afternoon sunlight.
“What, he’s just going to hang around out here?” Jada asked, her voice low.
“A guy that suave? I’m sure someone’ll be along to pick him up,” Drake said.
“You’re just jealous that you’re not that suave.”
“Suave is overrated and very last century. I’m rugged and sometimes adorably awkward,” Drake replied.
Before Jada could fill the obvious opening with good-natured mockery, Sully pushed between them, shouldering them apart like a teacher worried that his young charges were dancing a little too close at a junior high school mixer.
“Can you two cut it out with the cute banter?” Sully said. “You’re making me nauseous.”
Drake smiled innocently. He would have liked to tell Sully that he was just trying to keep Jada’s mind off her father’s death and the reason they were in Egypt to begin with, but he didn’t want to talk about it with Jada right beside them.
“I’m sure Chigaru’s arranged for transport,” Sully told Jada. “I figure he’ll be gone within the hour.”
Drake glanced over his shoulder at Chigaru, who leaned against their car, smoking, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Even at a distance, the man looked in control of the world around him. He might have been little more than a minion for hire, but it was clear he didn’t see it that way.
“As soon as it gets dark, I’ll sweep the car,” Drake muttered to Sully.
“Sweep for what?” Jada asked.
“Bugs,” Sully said. “Maybe explosives.”
She paled. “We just drove more than two hours in that
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