Galal barked an order at his men and sent six of them in the direction of the guest accommodation.
When Galal had returned moments before without the Englishman in tow, Amjad Bassam had been furious.
‘He could be working for the media,’ he growled.
The policeman had shaken his head. ‘No, he was asking the wrong sorts of questions,’ he argued. ‘And he’s not a decision-maker. He had to make a phone call to his superiors before I left him. He is of no harm to us.’
The army captain had dropped the conversation and had returned to his own team as they worked through the crowd interviewing witnesses.
Galal scratched absently at a mosquito bite on his forearm while his mind churned.
The woman disappearing was unexpected – and a concern. It hadn’t been part of the original plan, and now that her colleague was dead, there was no way of telling where she was.
The camp staff had confirmed both had arrived at the same time, and his men had already interviewed the driver who had dropped them off after their hurried exit from the mining company’s offices earlier that day.
Anna Collins had certainly been at the camp at some point since her departure from the mine. The only question was, where was she now?
He had sent his men to patrol the bungalows, aware that if he kept asking Taylor questions he could have aroused the man’s suspicions about what had really happened at the mine camp, choosing instead to give the man some space in the hope he’d find out where the woman might be.
Surely, she’d have phoned her colleagues to tell them she was safe if she had escaped?
Once he was alone, Galal pulled out a mobile phone, one that hadn’t been issued to him by the department, and dialled a number he knew by heart.
‘It’s me,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘We might have a problem. The woman evaded the attackers, and there’s an Englishman who turned up. He says he’s from the insurance company the woman was working for. He’s been asking questions.’
He listened to the man at the other end of the call, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand the thick accent.
‘I have my men undertaking a perimeter patrol,’ he said. ‘They’ll keep an eye on him.’
He fell silent and paced the ground next to the army truck. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And if Miss Collins reappears, I’ll ensure that the matter is taken care of. Permanently.’
Galal ended the call and cursed.
He thought he’d been careful to hide his gambling debts, always making sure that no-one within the police force would discover his weakness.
Now, he wished he’d never been coerced into joining the syndicate.
The gambling had alleviated the monotony for a while, before the men who played cards every week began to chip away at his resolve and use his weakness to their advantage
First, they’d played to his ego, softening him up, telling him of the rewards that awaited him if he joined their venture.
Then, his gambling debts had been allowed to increase, until the night he stood up from his place at the table and announced he wanted out.
The leader’s eyes had hardened, and Galal had been pushed back into his seat, terrified, while the man set out his plans in detail: a plan that held Galal at its centre, and which would almost certainly end in Galal’s death if he tried to abscond.
Galal exhaled and tapped the phone against his chin as he tried to concentrate.
Something about the man who introduced himself as Dan Taylor made him nervous.
Very nervous.