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Chapter seven
JACK
“Nosignofher?” West asked as I got closer. I shook my head, waiting for the outburst, but instead, he was calm as he took out his phone.
“You don’t seem to be panicking this time,” I offered hesitantly, waiting for him to bite my head off.
He looked up and gave me a tight smile as he raised the phone to his ear. “Last time we were in an airport in a country I don’t know that well, and she could have been taken by anyone and we wouldn’t have had a clue where to even start looking. Here, I know the city, I know the people, and we have contacts who can help us. Nassar? It’s West. I’m afraid I’m going to have to call on you for your assistance sooner than anticipated.” He pulled the phone away and looked down at the screen, using his other hand to shade it from the bright sunlight. “Yes, I’ve got it. We won’t be long.”
“You called Nassar?” I asked as West stuck his phone back in his pocket. I followed him through a nearby alleyway that led out into one of the main streets in the area.
“I did. We are too close to continue our search the human way. I’m going to call in as much help as I can to find her before the worst happens.”
I stopped as we reached the street, and West stuck his arm out, waving for a taxi. “We don’t even know where she’s gone. She might have wanted to visit the pyramids and do the touristy thing.”
West shook his head. “She’s not here as a tourist, she’s here to follow her dreams. At the ball, a friend of her father’s mentioned a dig his foundation is financing, and she asked to volunteer for it.”
I stared at him. “A dig? Here in Egypt? Shit, that would have been...”
“Exceedingly dangerous for her, yes, I know. I said as much to her father, though I implied more for the political climate and her current status rather than coming out and saying she’d attract every ancient demon from miles around if she started running her hands through Egyptian sand.”
A taxi pulled up, and West leaned in to talk to the driver. He looked up at me and nodded, and I opened the boot to chuck our bags in the back. As West opened the door, I held him back for a moment. “You think she’s gone on this dig?”
“I do. But if we go after her there, we’re going to need some fire power, and that’s where Nassar comes in.”
He got into the car, and I leaned on the roof and looked in at him. Something about his tone was worrying. “West, where is this dig situated?”
He looked back out at me from the shadows of the car. “Zagazig. They are excavating the Temple of Bastet.”
I stared at him in shock. “They are excavating the temple? Shit.”
“Exactly. Get in the car, Davenport.”
As we pulled up outside the address Nassar had sent to West, I gave a silent prayer of thanks that Tory had found a safe district to stay in when she had arrived. So many tourists tried to get themselves lodgings close to the Giza pyramids, but sadly, the closest areas were not the most welcoming or safe for those who looked like easy targets. While I stood out like an all-American man from a great distance, luckily West was dark enough to pass for a local, and Nassar, it seemed, had managed to inherit the closest genes of all. After so long, it was hard to remember what he had originally looked like, but now he stood before us in a loose-fitting, ankle-length robe and a fez. His black hair was closely cropped, as was his beard, and his dark eyes shone with delight as we stepped into the rather ramshackle shop.
“West!” he greeted, lunging forward and flinging his arms around the rather startled older man. I cocked my head and looked on in amusement as West patted Nassar on the back half-heartedly. He was never one for physical displays of affection. Then Nassar saw me, and he released West almost immediately. I, however, returned the enthusiastic hug as my old friend and brother in arms held me by the shoulders and looked me up and down.
“You are so different, Sadeeq. American now, yes?”
“Yep, so’s West, but you wouldn’t know it looking at him. And it’s Jack Davenport now.”
“Ah, Jack. A good name. Strong. I am now Zayn Nassar. Welcome to my humble shop.”
I glanced around at the cluttered shelves filled with second-hand mobile phones, phone cases, chargers, and spare batteries.
“Interesting occupation you’ve got here, Zayn,” I remarked, a teasing note in my voice. It wasn’t what I’d expected to find at all when we’d come calling on one of the most dangerous men I’d ever met.
“Ahh, well you know that in this land, what you see isn’t always what you get,” Zayn replied, winking at West. “Come.” I followed Zayn and West into the back of the shop. Zayn paused to shout for an older man in a turban who headed out to watch the shop before Zayn led us down some stairs and into a room below. The room was mainly used for storage, and towards the back wall, Zayn pulled a tower of old cardboard boxes aside, revealing a door that was padlocked. Taking a key from a leather thong around his neck, Zayn unlocked it and led us into another room, flipping on the light switch as we went.
As antiquated as the shop had been above, this room was like it was in an entirely different building. Racks of weapons surrounded us on three sides, lit from behind with a clear white light that reflected off the pristine metal countertops. Everything from compound bows to Glocks, knives, swords, and even...
“Is that an actual rocket launcher?” I asked, reaching forward to run my fingers over the dark metal.
“It is, though I’m thinking that’s not really what you’ll be needing on this trip,” Zayn replied, glancing over at West who was lifting a Glock off the holder.
“I highly doubt it,” West answered, flashing me a rare smile. “Maybe just stick to handguns? A couple each, and possibly an Uzi just in case it gets really hairy.”
I reached out and lifted a wickedly curved blade, tapping the edge gently with my finger to test the sharpness. It didn’t quite cut through the skin enough to make me bleed, but it left a mark. “Haven’t seen one of these in a while,” I remarked, smiling at Zayn.
