The Somali Deception Episode II (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) Read Free Page B

  “They all are wearing thobes
and ghutras.”
    “We’re wearing thobes and
ghutras,” said Cameron.   “Can you be
more specific?”
    In his tattered desert tanned
Tee shirt and matching light denim pants, the boy, Rehan, was the only person
on the grandstand not wearing a thobe or ghutra.   The boy shrugged the shoulder of
protruding arm, “You said you wanted the younger man from the Kingdom.”
    “Yes,” said Pepe.
    “He is there in the white thobe
and red checkered ghutras.”   The boy
pressed his arm out farther, wagging his hand toward the man.   “There behind the red painted camel with
the green robot.   The one with the
number nine on the side, talking to the tall bald man.”
    “Yeah,” said Pepe.   “I see.”   He fixed his eyes on the man the boy had
described.   The man, the only one of
the small Arab horde to wear a red-checkered ghutra, was close to his trainer
passionately gesturing toward the length of the track.   “Yes, that’s him.”   Pepe tilted his head close to Cameron,
“And look who is with him, our friend from the London garage.”
    “That’s the man from London alright,”
said Cameron.   “Looks
like he is stepping away.   Good.”
    Cameron slipped his hand into
his thobe, and then retrieved a bright pink folded note revealing a picture of
a hawk and the number one hundred.   He held the paper toward the boy.
    Rehan’s eyes widened.   He snapped for the money.
    “Hold on,” said Cameron, lifting
the bill above the boy’s reach.   “This dirham is yours as well as the others we promised.”   He handed Rehan the bill.
    “And the rest?” asked Rehan.
    “First I need you to go down
there and tell the Saudi the two Frenchmen are here to see him.”
    “But you speak English.”
    “And so do you,” said Pepe, “so
what?”
    Rehan nodded and scurried down
the grandstand toward the camel pit, his dusted shirt and trousers blending
into the tan sand and shadow below the grandstand.   He wove his way through the crowded
staging area, disappeared, reappeared, and then popped up in front of the
Saudi.   The Saudi, elegant in his
pristine white thobe, froze mid-gesture of explanation to his trainer of how he
saw the race that was to be run, and then tilted his head down to the urchin
pauper boy before him.   Rehan held
his clasped hands up to the man and then swung back around toward the
grandstands and pointed with the same overextended arm and waggling hand he had
used a moment before.   The Saudi
fixed his gaze near Cameron and Pepe, his eyes searching.
    “Smile and wave,” said Cameron
as he subtly raised his hand.   Pepe
did the same.
    Having seen their signal the
Saudi smiled, slightly bowed his head, and waved back.   He held up his hand with the palm
upwards and all of the fingers together and made a small movement with his
wrist to signify he was almost finished and then he turned back to his trainer.
    “Watch this,” said Cameron.
    “He will not leave until he has
a reward,” said Pepe referring to the boy, still standing in the Saudi’s
shadow.   The Saudi appeared
surprised to realize the boy was still there.   He said something to Rehan, and then
attempted to return to the trainer.
    “Not that easy,” said Cameron,
and he was correct, as the Saudi next gave Rehan something out of the leather
pouch.   Only then did the boy
disappear again into the crowd.
    “I don’t know about this guy,”
said Cameron.
    “Considering he is friends with
Abbo, that should tell you enough.   Then again, he is willing to betray him to us, so.”
    “Even that makes me queasy.   I mean we’re here for the morning
races.   Only sheikhs race in the
morning and this fella owns a camel.”
    “A lipstick wearing camel.”
    “I think they are all wearing
lipstick.   Anyway, if this guy is a
Royal Saud why is he willing to talk to us?   What’s the deal between him and Abbo
anyway?” asked Cameron.
    “He owes Abbo money,” said
Pepe.   “A