The Sinai Secret

FORTY-THREE

British Airways Flight 721

Somewhere over the Mediterranean

That Night

Lang usually enjoyed British comedy, with its understated humor and cleverly absurd situations. Tonight, though, he watched the Hugh Grant movie on the individual screen without really seeing it. Instead he saw the shadow in the mist, a figure now recognizable.

Maybe.

His rush from the Khan al-Khalil to the airport had gotten him there only twenty-five minutes before a departure for London's Heathrow. When he'd been told by an unconcerned ticket agent that the plane was full, a wad of bills provided enough baksheesh to purchase not only a ticket but also an avoidance of time-consuming if indifferent security. The ease with which he evaded supposed protection against bomb-toting candidates for Islamic martyrdom du jour did little to make him feel safe, but it did get him to the gate in time. A bored glance at his forged passport, a nod from the accompanying ticket agent, no doubt signaling a willingness to share the newfound wealth, and he eased himself into a first-class seat.

He tried not to think of the righteous indignation of whomever he had displaced.

Instead he utilized his flight-induced insomnia to review the few facts he knew about whoever it was that wanted him dead. He had concluded that the reason was the white powder, the manna, or whatever it was with such amazing chemical and physical properties. The stuff simply didn't answer all the questions, though. If two scientists working for the foundation an ocean apart had discovered it, it could not have been such an impossible secret. In his mind he replayed the morning's conversation with bin Hamish and the revelations of Dr. Shaffer in Vienna.

Perhaps it was not the powder; perhaps it was…

He shook his head to decline the offer of a beverage by a flight attendant, regulation smile in place. The noun drink apparently did not exist in the airlines' lexicon.

The scene at the marketplace had added another riddle: Why didn't Tweedledum and Tweedledee call for backup from the local police?

There was only one reason he could think of in retrospect.

Somewhere between that thought and the glare of the next morning's light, the weariness that was the dregs of the day's adrenaline surge took over.