other. Both Augie and Ayoub were beyond further explanation or conniving.
* * *
The next day I took a United Arab Airlines flight to Cairo and grabbed the next jet to Tangier. I arrived in Tangier and first took a room at the Grand Hotel, in the Medina, which Fergus had mentioned. I had lunch in a nearby restaurant, mechoui and a Stork Pils beers, then returned to the hotel bar.
I was sipping a Pernod, standing beside a barstool with my back to the dark-mustached bartender, when the girl came in. She was young, dressed in a black sheath and high-heeled sandals. Long straight dark hair fell over her shoulders. She was beautiful the way only young Arabian girls can be beautiful: a dark, earthy beauty with a hint of mystery. She walked in a way that made a man want to reach out and touch her, a hips-undulating, breasts-moving, sensual walk that made an erotic but not vulgar display of her body. I watched as she moved past me, avoiding my eyes, leaving a faint scent of musky perfume in the air. She sat on a barstool about halfway down the bar and ordered a sherry. After the bartender had served her, he moved down to me.
"Every day she comes in like this," he said, noticing my admiring glance. "She orders one drink — just the one — and then she leaves."
"She's lovely," I said. "Do you know her name?"
"It is Hadiya — in Arabic it means 'gift, " he said, smiling through his mustache. "She dances at the Miramar Hotel. Shall I introduce you?"
I picked up my Pernod. "Thanks," I said, "but I'll go it solo."
The girl turned to look at me as I sat down beside her. Her eyes, big and black, were even lovelier close up, but at the moment aloof and wary. "May I buy you a drink?" I asked.
"Why?" she said coolly.
"Because you remind me of five memorable days I spent in Lebanon," I said, "and because it pleases me to be near you."
She looked into my eyes and studied my face for a long moment. "All right," she said suddenly. "You remind me of three lovely days in Gibraltar."
We laughed then together, and her laugh was musical. We exchanged names and some small talk about Tangier, and then the bartender showed up.
"A call for you."
I groaned inwardly. It was Hawk, I knew. His plane must have arrived early. I asked Hadiya to wait for me and excused myself. I took the call in the lobby, for privacy.
"Nick?" The voice was brisk, businesslike, with just a hint of a New England accent.
"Yes, sir. I hope you had a good flight."
"The girls were pretty, but the food was terrible," Hawk grated. I pictured his lean, impatient face, capped by thick graying hair, as he sweated in the Tangier airport telephone booth. "I have only a few hours between flights, Nick, so kiss the girl goodbye, whoever she is, and meet me at the Djenina Restaurant for an early dinner in exactly… one hour and a half."
I acknowledged and the phone clicked in my ear. I stood there for a moment, wondering what Hawk had up his sleeve for me now and whether it would be a follow-up to the Luxor business. Then I returned to the girl. "I have to leave," I said. "Business."
"Oh," she said, pouting prettily.
"But I think I'll catch the floor show at the Miramar tonight," I said. "If it's at all possible."
"I would like that, Mr. Carter." She smiled at me.
I drew back. "I told you my first name, not my last."
"Augie Fergus told me you'd be here," she said.
"How the hell did…"
Her face grew solemn. "Augie called me yesterday afternoon from Luxor. He described you, then said if anything happened to him, I should give you a photograph he keeps in his suitcase in our room."
Somehow, the thought of this beautiful thing belonging to Augie Fergus took me by surprise, and I must have registered it. I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me short.
"Something has gone wrong, then?" she asked.
I gave her the details. She took it all passively, then said, "It must have happened while he was on the telephone."
"What must have happened?" I asked.
"When he was
* * *
The next day I took a United Arab Airlines flight to Cairo and grabbed the next jet to Tangier. I arrived in Tangier and first took a room at the Grand Hotel, in the Medina, which Fergus had mentioned. I had lunch in a nearby restaurant, mechoui and a Stork Pils beers, then returned to the hotel bar.
I was sipping a Pernod, standing beside a barstool with my back to the dark-mustached bartender, when the girl came in. She was young, dressed in a black sheath and high-heeled sandals. Long straight dark hair fell over her shoulders. She was beautiful the way only young Arabian girls can be beautiful: a dark, earthy beauty with a hint of mystery. She walked in a way that made a man want to reach out and touch her, a hips-undulating, breasts-moving, sensual walk that made an erotic but not vulgar display of her body. I watched as she moved past me, avoiding my eyes, leaving a faint scent of musky perfume in the air. She sat on a barstool about halfway down the bar and ordered a sherry. After the bartender had served her, he moved down to me.
"Every day she comes in like this," he said, noticing my admiring glance. "She orders one drink — just the one — and then she leaves."
"She's lovely," I said. "Do you know her name?"
"It is Hadiya — in Arabic it means 'gift, " he said, smiling through his mustache. "She dances at the Miramar Hotel. Shall I introduce you?"
I picked up my Pernod. "Thanks," I said, "but I'll go it solo."
The girl turned to look at me as I sat down beside her. Her eyes, big and black, were even lovelier close up, but at the moment aloof and wary. "May I buy you a drink?" I asked.
"Why?" she said coolly.
"Because you remind me of five memorable days I spent in Lebanon," I said, "and because it pleases me to be near you."
She looked into my eyes and studied my face for a long moment. "All right," she said suddenly. "You remind me of three lovely days in Gibraltar."
We laughed then together, and her laugh was musical. We exchanged names and some small talk about Tangier, and then the bartender showed up.
"A call for you."
I groaned inwardly. It was Hawk, I knew. His plane must have arrived early. I asked Hadiya to wait for me and excused myself. I took the call in the lobby, for privacy.
"Nick?" The voice was brisk, businesslike, with just a hint of a New England accent.
"Yes, sir. I hope you had a good flight."
"The girls were pretty, but the food was terrible," Hawk grated. I pictured his lean, impatient face, capped by thick graying hair, as he sweated in the Tangier airport telephone booth. "I have only a few hours between flights, Nick, so kiss the girl goodbye, whoever she is, and meet me at the Djenina Restaurant for an early dinner in exactly… one hour and a half."
I acknowledged and the phone clicked in my ear. I stood there for a moment, wondering what Hawk had up his sleeve for me now and whether it would be a follow-up to the Luxor business. Then I returned to the girl. "I have to leave," I said. "Business."
"Oh," she said, pouting prettily.
"But I think I'll catch the floor show at the Miramar tonight," I said. "If it's at all possible."
"I would like that, Mr. Carter." She smiled at me.
I drew back. "I told you my first name, not my last."
"Augie Fergus told me you'd be here," she said.
"How the hell did…"
Her face grew solemn. "Augie called me yesterday afternoon from Luxor. He described you, then said if anything happened to him, I should give you a photograph he keeps in his suitcase in our room."
Somehow, the thought of this beautiful thing belonging to Augie Fergus took me by surprise, and I must have registered it. I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me short.
"Something has gone wrong, then?" she asked.
I gave her the details. She took it all passively, then said, "It must have happened while he was on the telephone."
"What must have happened?" I asked.
"When he was
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