Two circular images of the Bedouin camp blurred, then merged into one clear picture. The desert folk went about their business, having not yet spotted the lone observer in the distance.
He lowered his binoculars, and rubbed dusty fingers over his rough chin as he contemplated his next step. Leila Sterling had said she would go to Saint Catherine, but gave no indication of when or how. After a day of discreet questions among the different Bedouin tribes near Cairo, he began to hear rumors. Rumors that led him farther into the desert, and finally, to this camp.
He propped one foot on a rock and leaned forward, resting a forearm on his leg. Even if she wasn’t here, he could at least find out which route she had taken. If he was lucky, he would be able to catch up before she reached Saint Catherine. It would save him the trouble of getting in and out of the city undetected.
And it would be easier to hide a murder in the desert.
Now all he needed to do was convince these Bedouin to talk to him, too. It hadn’t been difficult so far. The other Bedouin he’d spoken to had all seemed curious, friendly, and happy to help. He ran the back of his hand across his perspiring brow as he mulled over the story in his mind once more. It would only fall through if the girl had shown them pictures. It was unlikely she had any with her, but he would take the risk and improvise if he had to. With a push, he straightened and walked to his SUV, his steps confident. He would give them no reason to suspect him.
The binoculars returned to their place on the passenger seat and he climbed back into the vehicle. It took a heavy foot to coax the SUV into moving forward in the sand, but once he was rolling he kept the speed slow. He didn’t want to cause any alarm in the camp.
After parking a short walking distance from the nearest tent, he continued on foot. The Bedouin slowed their steps and turned their heads toward him. He gave the onlookers a friendly wave and took off his sunglasses, hanging them in the neck of his shirt.
“Good evening,” he called, hoping one of them spoke English. He only knew a few words in Arabic a friend had taught him when he was younger, most of them swear words he did not intend to use for this encounter. One weakness in this endeavor. His other was the fact he had never fired a gun before. That had been the whole point in hiring a hitman.
A boy in dusty jeans and an oversized T-shirt had stopped and watched him as he approached. The youth’s mouth hung open slightly.
He stopped a few yards in front of him, keeping a polite distance. An older woman joined the young Bedouin, keeping her hands folded in front of her long, loose dress—the boy’s mother, he supposed. Her wide stare was inquisitive.
“I’ve come for Miss Sterling. Leila.”
A few more Bedouin joined them, locking their keen gazes on him.
He continued, “She contacted me a few days ago via satellite phone and said that she was here under your care.”
The Bedouin whispered among themselves. All he could understand was the occasional utterance of her name, Leila. They knew her. He was in the right place. An elderly man stepped forward, arms spread, speaking a welcome in Arabic.
“And who are you?” he added in English.
“Pardon me. I’m Leila’s boyfriend, Alexander Harrison. She might have referred to me as Xander.”
The Bedouin man remained silent, his gaze dropping contemplatively.
“I have a photo,” he declared, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. The picture was photoshopped, but would fool anyone who had a quick glance of it on a phone’s screen. “If you need proof—”
The senior raised a hand to stop him. “No. I not need to see.”
He shifted his weight, contemplating his next words. Did the old man believe him or not?
“So, she’s here?”
“No. Not here. She left. Two others on camels. To Saint Catherine.”
Now he was getting somewhere. All he needed to hear was the exact route. This was going to be easy. He slathered on the kindest smile he could muster and waved at his SUV.
“Could you tell me which way they’ve gone? Perhaps I can catch up. Maybe they would prefer a ride to Saint Catherine in my car.”
“Perhaps you can catch up,” the man repeated slowly.
He licked his hard, parched lips and forced a smile. “As compensation for your troubles, I have brought along water and food.”
The senior’s eyes brightened at this. “You have map? I show you the way.”
“In the SUV.”
The two of them walked toward it.
“Leila will be happy,” the elder commented and grinned up at him, showing his yellowed, cracked teeth.
“Yes.” He couldn’t help but agree as a smile glued itself onto his own face. “She will be very glad indeed.”
The jeep bumped and rumbled down what Xander thought was the road. It was more like two tire tracks carved into the flat, rocky ground. They had left the asphalt highway half-an-hour ago and Xander missed it terribly. According to the last time stamp on the GPS, they still had another three hours until they arrived at the first Bedouin camp on the list. A loud pop came from the passenger seat.
“Are we going north or south?” Emma asked as she sucked her bubble gum back into her mouth. She turned the map in her hands left and right. Tilted her head to the side.
“East,” Xander grunted as a wheel banged against a rock. He gritted his teeth. Hopefully the tires would survive the drive.
“Oh.” She popped another bubble, then pushed the rest of her gum out with her tongue and pinched the chewed-up wad between two fingers. “This lost its flavor thirty miles back.”
“Emma. That’s gross.”
“Did you pack napkins?”
“I have no idea.”
Emma unbuckled her seatbelt and twisted around, stretching to reach one of the bags in the back. “You’ve got everything back here. How did you get all of this together? You got out of the hospital five hours ago.”
Xander sighed. “You’re supposed to be navigating.”
“I am,” Emma said, still twisted, her voice shaking as they ran over a rocky patch of road. “I got you to this road, if you could call it that. Did I, or did I not?”
“Yes. Thank you very much. But…” He drew out the word. It had been a mistake to let her come along. “If you brought us to this road, then you should know what direction we’re going, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Emma said, muffled as she continued to rummage around the backseat. “The GPS says something different. That’s all.”
Xander locked his jaw and swerved to avoid a boulder. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Emma plopped roughly back down in her seat with a roll of toilet paper in her hand. She tugged off a square and wrapped it around the blob of gum.
“It means the GPS doesn’t match the map.”
Xander punched his foot down on the brake. The jeep skidded a few yards, the back of the vehicle turning to the side as it stopped.
“Give me the blasted satnav,” he growled and held out an open palm.
Emma shoved the device into his hand. She tried to hide it by looking out the window, but he didn’t miss her eye roll. Xander studied the screen. All it showed was a small car icon in the middle of a gray area, thin, white line slicing through it.
“Emma, you do realize it says no signal in the upper corner, right?”
Emma looked and scrunched her lips to one side. “Oh. No. Didn’t see that.”
Xander hit his fist on the steering wheel. “If we have to go back, I’m going to leave you on the highway.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Emma picked up the map and retraced their route with her fingertip. “Look, according to this, we should be about here.” She poked at it. “The GPS is stuck on whatever direction we were driving in when we lost the signal. Nothing to worry about.”
Xander took the map and inspected the lines. They were still on track. He dug a compass out of the glove box and set it on the dashboard. He’d have to do it the old-fashioned way.
“I know, you’re worried about Leila,” Emma said in a soothing voice, “but you’ve gotta hold it together.”
Xander pursed his lips, not in the mood to hear about his feelings and emotions from someone else. Hoping she’d drop the subject, he shifted the jeep back into gear and pressed down on the gas.
“She’s fine, don’t let yourself think otherwise,” Emma went on as she opened a granola bar wrapper. “I understand you won’t feel better until you actually see her, but maybe she found some help. Maybe she’s even making some new friends.”
“Thank you, Dr. Emma.”
“My pleasure.”
This was going to be a long trip.