The restaurant stood a few blocks from one of the main shopping areas of downtown Cairo. Leila waited outside for a few minutes, studying the menu posted next to the door, and after she’d read through the entrees, she peered down the street for her friend.
Satellite dishes of varying sizes sat on top of the flat roofs and laundry draped over some of the balconies. The crooked letters hanging over the door of the smartphone shop flickered as they threatened to burn out. Couples and small groups of friends ambled down the sidewalks, laughing, chattering, clusters of shopping bags in hand.
No sign of Emma.
Leila leaned against the wall and flicked a mosquito off her arm. With a sigh, she checked her phone for the tenth time. Fifteen after seven. Eyes narrowed, she scrunched her lips to one side.
Fashionably late, as usual.
She paced while she wrote another text to Emma, then wandered inside, got a table, and ordered a drink. Taking small sips, she kept an eye on her phone. The checkmarks next to her message showed delivered but unread.
At least Xander was thinking of her.
Xander: Take your time, luv. Hope Emma is all right. I’ll see you in a couple days. Then you’ll be all mine xx
He was still the best. If only they didn’t have to live on different continents.
Was it time to have that conversation? She stared at her phone, her only means of communication with him—aside from the two times they’d visited each other. The black screen reflected a glowy image of the cone-shaped ceiling light.
No, she couldn’t think about that yet. They’d only been together for a year. And she had too much on her plate with doctorate studies and field work. There was no way she could move. Not any time soon.
Fifteen minutes, two texts, and an unanswered phone call later, Leila swirled the half-melted ice in her glass. Empty, and Emma still hadn’t shown up. What the heck was going on? Twirling a strand of brunette hair around her finger, she tried not to watch as the waitress passed by with plates heaped with pasta to other tables.
The aroma of basil and garlic drifted by while she told the waitress once again that she’d wait to order. Stomach growling, she hit Emma’s name on the screen of her phone and listened to the buzzing ringtone.
“Hey, girl,” Emma’s chipper voice, lightly accented with Italian, came from the speaker.
“Hey. Where on earth are you? Is everything okay? I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”
“Waiting? For what?”
Leila rolled her eyes. I can’t believe this. “You wanted to meet me for dinner.”
“What? Tonight? Are you sure?” The speaker rustled for a few seconds. “I’m trying to get some work done for the colloquium tomorrow. But an actual dinner does sound better than this bag of chips.”
Leila frowned. “You texted me two hours ago,” she said over the crunching noises on the speaker. “And you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls since.”
“I did? What? I haven’t gotten any texts. My phone has been right next to me the whole time. It never rang.”
“Would I make this up?”
“Well, no. It’s just weird, is all. Hang on a sec,” Emma said, her voice muffled.
Leila ran her finger around the rim of her empty glass, ready to tell her not to worry about it. Emma had been stressing out over the colloquium for weeks. It would have been easy enough for her to forget she’d made plans.
A moment later, Emma spoke again, “No, I didn’t text you. Do you mean email? I haven’t even checked my email yet. Or did you get your dates mixed up?” Emma’s tone changed. “Oh, I see how it is. Excited about Thursday, are we?” she teased.
Leila reclined in her seat, narrowing her eyes. How could Emma not have texted? “Wait a minute. That’s not possible. The message was sent from your number. I’ll take a screenshot.” They both fell silent as Leila made a screen capture and sent the picture.
“No,” Emma said. “I didn’t write that.”
“Did you use a different phone?”
“No. Seriously, that’s not from me. Someone must have hacked my phone.”
“We don’t know that. It could be some glitch.”
“A glitch that invites you to dinner?”
Leila surveyed the restaurant, almost expecting to find someone watching her. But the other patrons minded their own business, spinning pasta with their forks.
“I don’t know, Emma, this is—”
“This is serious. You’ve got enemies. Enemies who can do things.”
“Faris is in prison.”
“Exactly my point. He’s in prison thanks to you. He’s got all the time in the world to think about how you ruined his life, killed his son, and—”
“Emma, stop.” Leila raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t argue with Emma. Maybe Faris really was trying to lure her out. He might be locked up, but he still had money and connections.
An invisible weight pressed down on her chest.
“We’ll go to the police,” Emma continued.
“Yeah, right.” Leila swallowed back the shakiness. “You can walk in there and tell them you think someone hacked your phone. What are they going to do about it?”
“You know what? Come stay at my place. At least until Xander gets here.”
The tension in Leila’s chest lifted. Better than sitting around home alone.
“All right. Be there soon,” she promised and hung up. She paid for her drink, then stood on wobbly legs and headed for the door. Through the window, she caught sight of a taxi parked across the street. She hurried outside and crossed the road, peering over her shoulder.
A part of her expected Faris to be standing there, waiting for her with an ornate, curved janbiya dagger. At the sight of an empty sidewalk, she released a sigh of relief and slid into the backseat, slamming the door.
“El Maadi, please.”
The driver nodded and pulled the vehicle into traffic.
“Did you have a nice dinner?” she asked, her voice deep. “Their zabaione is the best.”
Leila glanced up, recognizing the same driver as before. She chewed her bottom lip. No need to be suspicious. The woman must have taken a break. “I didn’t eat, actually.”
Beneath black bangs, the driver watched from the rear-view mirror with unsmiling eyes. “That’s too bad.”
Leila leaned back into her seat, her heart still racing. First a broken window, then a fake text. There had to be some other explanation. Her friend was being paranoid and doing a good job of making her paranoid too. To reassure herself, she glanced back down at her phone and reread the text, and double-checked the time and phone number, but she had nothing that could prove Emma didn’t really send it.
She must have written it, fallen asleep, and forgotten. She’d been late before for similar reasons. Except, she’d always admitted it, not make up an elaborate excuse. Unable to make any sense of it, Leila shook her head and watched the city flash by. Flat-roofed buildings and palm trees swept past as they sped down the road. Street lamps casting a yellow glow on the pavement illuminated the inside of the taxi in flashes. She studied the blue and white road signs and knitted her brows together.
“You missed the turn to Maadi.”
The woman said nothing.
Leila swallowed, her throat dry, as they continued down the street. “Is the road closed?”
The woman ignored her. Maybe she was taking her a longer route to get a larger fare.
“I’m kind of in a hurry, could we take a short cut?”
The woman met her gaze in the rear view mirror, her dark eyes stoic and unreadable. They slowed for a red light and Leila grabbed the door handle. Locked. She pressed the window button, only to hear a useless click. Her body froze, blood turning ice-cold. She threw a frantic glance at the driver, who still watched her in the mirror.
Leila sat up, swallowed again, and leaned forward. When she spoke, she tried to hide the waver in her voice.
“Unlock the door, please. I want out.”
The trace of a smile crinkled the edges of the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid not, Leila.”
Leila blinked. She knew her name?
“Who… who are you?”
The light turned green and the woman drove on in agonizing silence.
Trying her best to keep her breathing steady, Leila peered over the back of the seat. A laptop sat on the passenger’s side and a twisted mess of cables spread in all directions. On the floor, a black tote gaped open, enough to reveal a box of ammo inside.
She pressed her back against her seat, her heart thundering in her ears. Emma was right. It was a trap. She had to escape before they left the city. Or before she got knocked out—or shot. Hand shaking, she picked up her phone.
“Don’t bother,” the driver said before Leila could call the police. “The signal jammer is on.”
A quick glance at her screen proved the woman’s claim. A new, more desperate plan formed in her mind. It scared her, but the driver scared her more. All Leila needed was an opportune moment to make her escape.
“What do you want from me?” Leila said, allowing a frail touch to her voice.
The woman kept her eyes on the road, slowing for another red light.
Now. Leila slid her hand up the back of the passenger seat, pressed the button to the headrest, and ripped it out. With as much strength as she could muster, she slammed the pointed sticks into the window. Glass shattered in all directions, stinging her legs.
The woman hit the gas and took a sharp turn, toppling Leila off the bench. Wedged between the front and back seats, Leila pulled herself up. Wind whipped through her hair as the driver sped through the streets.
Time for Plan B.
She threw her arm around the woman’s neck, then squeezed as hard as she could. The car swerved. Something stung Leila’s arm but she held onto the woman’s neck with an iron grip. A loud bang shook the vehicle as they drove over a curb and flew toward a thick metal lamppost. Then came the impact.
A deafening boom filled Leila’s ears. Her head smacked against the headrest and glass rained down around her. Her head throbbed as she crawled to the window and dragged herself out of the car, ignoring the pain from the broken glass that dug into her belly as she wriggled through.
The driver’s door opened once Leila found her footing on the grassy median. She staggered across the street, adrenaline easing the pain enough for her to break into a run down the sidewalk, in the direction of the glowing lights of a souq.