“You came” was all Nate said, feeling mixed emotions on the matter.
“Yeah, well… I’ve got enough on my conscience,” Tim said, “and I didn’t want you three idiots going off and getting yourselves killed without me.”
Wally and Shane moved around the stunned Nate and gave Tim giant hugs. Tim looked over at Nate and nodded, and he returned the sentiment.
“Well, you couldn’t have come at a better time,” Nate said, getting down to business. “Shit’s about to get real, and we could use your help.”
Tim threw his luggage in the room, changed, and they caught a cab to the Khan El Khalili market. Nate briefed him on the way as to the situation and the plan, with the other two interjecting as necessary. When they were finished, Tim thought it over. As the lead tactical guy on the team he was well versed in strategy, and he and Nate had prepared many operations together.
“It’s a good plan,” he said, “with the exception of one thing.”
“What’s that?” Nate asked, confused.
“I’m supposed to just fucking sit in a café while you guys have all the fun?”
Nate expected this reaction after Tim’s sudden appearance and had prepared an answer.
“Look, Tim, we had this all planned out. We’re all familiar with what the woman looks like, and we’ve had time to map recon our respective avenues of approach to the meeting location.”
“You’re late to the party, bro,” Shane added in a manner that was unhelpful for defusing the situation.
“You just need to be there in case I’m wrong and the meeting actually happens.”
“You’re never wrong,” Tim grumbled.
“There’s a first time for everything.” Nate grinned. “Besides, consider yourself QRF. If one of us engages, you’ll be free to back us up.” QRF stood for quick reaction force, a reserve element that stood by to provide assistance as needed during military operations. In layman’s terms, Tim was backup.
“Fair enough,” Tim said, sufficiently pacified.
The cab arrived at the western edge of the Khan El Khalili and dropped them off. In the event that someone was hunting the girl and was already set up, they didn’t want to infiltrate the area near the café and risk alerting them. Nate started a conference call and they all joined in, put in AirPods, and conducted a commo check. When everyone was up on the net they began making their way through the market’s narrow alleys and twisting streets toward the café to take up their positions.
Anastasia had her cousin drop her off by the Al-Azhar Mosque. She told Mariam she would take a cab home when she finished her shopping and that she would call her when she was on her way. She didn’t want her cousin to worry, and she definitely didn’t want her to stick around and insist on coming. When Mariam was out of sight, Anastasia crossed the street and headed north into the souk.
She knew exactly where the Naguib Mahfouz coffee shop was. When she was a teenager she had allowed a boy to take her there on a date. It was a popular location, particularly with tourists as it was large and convenient, and fortunately it was also close to the outskirts of the souk. She loved the Khan El Khalili and could normally spend hours walking through its multitude of shops. Today was different, though. She was in no mood for shopping and anyhow she was on a schedule.
Anastasia walked past an open-air park and entered the market, continuing straight for several minutes before turning west and being enveloped in the majesty of the souk. Heads of the many young men sitting around turned as she walked by, and a few catcalls were thrown her way. She was dressed modestly but hadn’t bothered to cover her head and hide some of her natural beauty, and she was regretting it.
The café was only a short distance ahead, if she remembered correctly. She looked down and checked her watch, noting that she still had fifteen minutes to spare. When she looked back up, two young men were standing in front of her, blocking her path.
“A’an iznak,” she said politely, attempting to get them to move out of her way.Excuse me. They were both Arab men, and clearly Egyptian. This was the harassment she was afraid of. They were much taller than her five-three frame, broad shouldered, and appeared to be about her age, but had a hard look in their eyes.
“A’an iznak,” she said again, this time slightly agitated. They said nothing, simply stared. She now noticed how conservatively they were dressed and began to worry that they were fundamentalists, perhaps even from the Muslim Brotherhood. Even though she wore pants, her arms were exposed below the elbow. She briefly wondered if that was enough to offend these men before remembering why she had come and deciding that she wasn’t in the mood.
As Anastasia attempted to step around the men, one shoved her back, nearly knocking her off balance. Before she could yell, the same man grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. She felt immediate pain. His grip was strong, and it was incredibly difficult to breathe. She struggled and attempted to pull his hand away, but it was no use. Next, she tried swatting at his face, but he simply smiled and batted away her attacks. She looked around to see if anyone would help her, but everyone appeared oblivious. Her throat closed as she began to feel lightheaded, and a wave of panic and despair washed over her. She was going to die here, or worse.
Nate noticed the two men immediately. He’d spent the better part of a decade hunting Islamic terrorists and they all tended to have a similar vibe about them. These two stood out due to their dress, their look, and their actions. They appeared to be milling about as if waiting for something or someone and did very little to conceal their actions.
He had ducked into a nearbydukkanand was waving away the shopkeeper, who was trying to sell him various trinkets and jewelry. Faking interest in a display, Nate watched the two men who were solely focused on whatever it was they were waiting for and completely oblivious to the fact that they were being observed. Eventually, he noticed that they were talking to someone, although they were blocking his view of whoever it was. There seemed to be a conversation of some type occurring, but he was still too far away to hear or see anything clearly.
Finally, some type of altercation started. It was difficult to ascertain the nature of it, but there appeared to be a struggle of some sort. Nate left the store and moved closer, just as the man turned slightly, and he caught a glimpse of an attractive dark-haired woman who was in theprocess of being choked. He unmuted his phone and began sprinting toward the men.
“This is Nate, I’ve got the target at my location! I’m engaging!” he yelled, though without any weapons he was going to be winging it.
Nate picked up speed as he ran down the narrow street and body-checked the man not otherwise engaged in violence, who went flying forward and crashed into a display of hookah pipes, shattered glass spraying the area as he did. Nate turned to face the second man and instantly recognized the beautiful face of Anastasia Metry in his grasp.
“Let her go,” Nate growled in Arabic, his voice low and laced with aggression.
The man looked at him blankly, as if trying to comprehend the Western man who had appeared out of nowhere, spoken Arabic, and attacked his partner. He did as instructed, and Anastasia dropped to the ground coughing. Next, he turned to face Nate and withdrew a long knife from his waistband.
