The Exodus Quest

III

The manhunt for Knox was not going well. 'This is ridiculous,' said Hosni. 'He's got away. Accept it.'

'He hasn't got away,' retorted Farooq, sweeping his arm across Mariut's northern shore, barren and open except for a few thin clumps of reeds that they'd already searched three times. 'How could he possibly have got away without us seeing him?'

'He must have drowned then,' muttered Hosni. 'Give him a day or two, he'll bob up for sure.'

Farooq grunted. He had little faith that Knox would do the honourable thing. 'He's here somewhere,' he said, opening his car door, sitting down and turning on the heaters to blast hot air at his wet feet. 'I know he is.'

'Come on, boss. The guys have had enough. Let's call it a day.'

'He's a killer. An escaped killer.'

'You don't honestly believe that, do you?'

'If you hadn't put on the brakes, he wouldn't have got away.'

'You wanted me to crash into the car in front? Is that what you're saying?' Hosni took a deep breath, spread his hands. 'Look, boss. Maybe he is still here, but isn't it just possible he managed to slip away? Why don't I send some of the guys to check out the places he might have gone?'

'Such as?'

'Pascal's apartment, for one. And to that man Kostas, where we picked him up yesterday. Or his hotel. Or Peterson's site.'

'Not Peterson,' glowered Farooq. 'I'm not having that man gloating about Knox getting away from me again. I'm not having it, you hear?'

'Fine. I'll just have a car monitor the lane. That's all. He won't even know they're there. The others can go back to Alex.' He turned and walked away without waiting for agreement.

Farooq bridled but said nothing, aware how bad this whole fiasco was making him look. Hosni was right. He needed to recapture Knox quickly. It was the only way to regain face. Where else might he have gone? He recalled his outburst on Peterson's site, his claim that the hostage woman Gaille had a set of photographs on her computer. An uneasy sensation passed through him. If he went for those, it meant he'd been sincere in his story. But he pushed that anxiety to one side, called the station instead, had them put him through to Mallawi, where he spoke to his counterpart, a man called Gamal. 'Just wanted to give you guys a heads-up,' he said. 'Someone we're interested in may be headed your way.'

'Interested in, why?'

'Murder,' said Farooq.

Gamal sucked in breath. 'Details?'

'His name's Daniel Knox. An archaeologist. Bastard killed the head of the SCA up here, a man named Omar Tawfiq.'

'What makes you think he's coming our way?'

Farooq hesitated. Underplay it, they'd do nothing. He needed Gamal convinced it was a live situation. 'We intercepted a phone call. He's heading your way all right. He's after a computer. It belongs to another archaeologist. Gaille whatever her name is. The one who's been taken hostage.'

'Hell,' muttered Gamal. 'Just what we need. You wouldn't believe how much shit that's already stirred up. How will we identify him?'

'He's maybe thirty. Tall. Dark hair. Athletic. English. He was in a car crash; you'll see it on his face.' He took a breath. 'And be warned: he's a slippery bastard, this one. Dangerous, too. He as good as told me how he'd killed Tawfiq. Boasted about it. He'll probably be armed by now, and he won't mess around, believe me. If you're wise, you'll ask your questions later, if you know what I mean.'

'Thanks,' said Gamal dryly.

'Just doing my job,' Farooq told him.