Marrakesh, Morocco
A
cton stared out the window as the plane descended, his eyes widening slightly. He was well aware they were heading south simply by the position of the sun, but their final destination was a surprise.
“Looks like we’re in Marrakesh,” he whispered.
Laura leaned over for a look. “Morocco? Why the devil would he bring us to Morocco?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but here we are. I’m guessing he wanted us out of Europe so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the authorities there if something went wrong.”
She leaned back. “They have authorities here.”
“Yeah, but in a country like this, they can be bought for the right amount of money.”
Laura squinted with one eye. “But Morocco is stable.”
“It’s stable, but it has enough problems that the right amount of money buys you anything.”
“You’re right on that. Do you think we’re actually going to meet him?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
Their flight attendant, who had done her job admirably, attending to their every need except information, approached. “I’ll get you to make sure you’re buckled in. We’ll be landing shortly.”
Acton tapped the buckle of his seatbelt. “I rarely take it off.” Laura did the same.
“Excellent. When we arrive, you’ll be met by a driver. Please get in the car. Everything will be explained to you then.” She returned to the back, and as promised, minutes later they were on the ground, a black limousine waiting for them, a chauffeur in the usual accouterments of the trade waiting.
As they disembarked and walked onto the tarmac, the chauffeur opened the rear door and a man stepped out. He smiled broadly at them and bowed. “Professor Acton, Professor Palmer. Please get in.”
They complied, no pleasantries exchanged, likely so anyone watching wouldn’t have time to get a good look at them. They were followed in by the man, then the door was closed by the chauffeur. “Can you show me the item, please?”
Acton opened the waterproof bag he had been carrying the Bible in since the boat, and let him look inside.
“Thank you.” He tapped on the glass separating them from the driver, and it lowered several inches. “Go ahead,” he said in Arabic. The glass slid back up and the car gently pulled away from the private jet. He retrieved a cellphone and made a call, switching to German, causing Acton and Laura to exchange surprised glances. “I’ve seen it…ninety minutes.” He ended the call then smiled at them. “Enjoy the drive, professors.” He gestured at the fridge. “Help yourselves. It will be some time before we arrive.”
Acton shook his head. “No thanks, I think I’ll just enjoy the view.”
The man chuckled, puzzling him at first.
Then he noticed the windows were blacked out.
Somebody doesn’t want us to know where we’re going.
He decided it might be best not to let them know they were already fully aware they were in Marrakesh.
It might just save their lives.
