The woman was certainly not bad looking, but there was something about her that Lisimba Lamay couldn't quite put his finger on.  While examining her documentation, he occasionally glanced up at her face - then down to her breasts, trying to figure out why she made him uncomfortable.  Her papers were completely in order.  A phone call had confirmed her position.  Valerie Mons-Tabor, United States Embassy, wanted to interview his FBI prisoners.

        "Everything seems to be in order, Miss Tabor.  It is not usual for your embassy to send someone over in these situations.  I assure you, however, that these two will be prosecuted under Egyptian law!"

        Miss Tabor could care less what this man had to say.  He knew, as well as she, that sooner or later the Egyptians would allow extradition and these two men would never see the inside of an Egyptian prison.  But, she played the game.  "I'm sure that is your prerogative, Mr. Lamay  I have merely been instructed to interview the gentlemen, determine that they are being well taken care of and report their status back to the embassy.  The fact that Mr. Bennett is an FBI agent makes this case all the more visible to our respective governments, don't you agree?"

        Her voice was deep, erotic and went straight to XXX's penis.  He cursed his weakness, cleared his throat and, walking to the door with his back turned to her, said, "Yes, it is.  If you will follow me, Miss Tabor, I will take you to the prisoners."

        "One at a time, Lieutenant."

        "Pardon?"  The lieutenant turned to face her, surreptitiously pressing his embarrassing pole against his thigh from inside his pants pocket.

        He saw her eyes flash to his crotch and then, up to his eyes.  She flashed him a knowing smile, further increasing his embarrassment and causing a red flush to fill his cheeks.  "I wish to speak to the gentlemen one at a time", she said.  She reached out and stroked his arm.  "I'm sure that will not a problem?"

 

        * * * * * * * * * *

        

         Dressed in the new Army Combat Uniform, Mutt looked like the soldiers standing guard at the gate leading to the Al Faw Palace compound.  A little older, a little shabbier but, it had only been six years since he and his assault team ran across the bridge that led to the Palace.  The real difference, as far as Mutt was concerned, was that back then he'd been a Sergeant and now, he stood before the guards a Colonel.  He'd always wanted to be an officer.  He looked past the guards and briefly relived that day six years ago.  The bombers overhead, the bright lights of explosions going off all over the city and the so-so resistance of Iraq's fabled Republican Guards defending the Palace flashed through his mind as if it were yesterday.  The IRG certainly hadn't lived up to their reputation.  During the initial attack by Mutt's company, the IRG troops had folded.  The Al Faw Palace had been mostly spared from bombing during the initial days of the war.  There was one sortie that knocked out most of the bridge connecting mainland Iraq with the man-made peninsula. The Department of Defense had designated the palace as the site for their eventual combined forces headquarters before the war ever started.  The bridge was repaired and DoD designated Al Faw Palace as Camp Victory.

         The guard asked for his ID and Mutt provided it.  When the guard asked for the nature of his business, Mutt replied,"I've come to see Major General Fitzgerald."  MG Fitzgerald was the current Chief of Staff in the Multi-National Corps - Iraq (MNF-I).  Although Mutt didn't know MG Fitzgerald from beans, he didn't expect to meet with him either. 

         The soldier waved him through and Mutt leisurely walked towards Camp Victory.

 

        * * * * * * * * * *

 

        Nadya and Mark arrived at the same guard position ten minutes later.  Nadya was casually dressed in military style pants and light jacket, both olive green in color.  She carried a notebook, a tape recorder and credentials identifying her as a journalist for CNN International News.  Mark wore jeans, a T-shirt and a Boston Reds ball cap.  He carried a Nikon camera and similar credentials.

        "We are scheduled for the eleven hundred press conference," Nadya said.  

        The guard checked his list and waved them through. 

        As they walked along the hundred meter bridge, Nadya said, "Twenty-nine bathrooms in this stinking place!  Finding HIS bathroom might take awhile."

        "Naw.  It's sure to be somewhere near the biggest room in the place.  This was a resort, after all, and there's bound to be a "Presidential Suite", don't you think?"

        Nadya didn't answer.  She continued to walk shaking her head at the enormity of their search.

        "HALT!"

        Jarred from their thoughts, both Nadya and Mark instantly stopped and turned to see three Army soldiers pointing their weapons at them.

        "On your knees!  Hands behind your head!  NOW!"  One soldier screamed at them.

        "Wait a damned....."  Nadya began.

        The screaming soldier pointed his weapon in the air and fired a shot, then brought it down again, pointed directly at Nadya's face from only six feet away.

        "Jesus Christ," exclaimed Mark as he and Nadya fell to their knees.

        Unnoticed by the soldiers or the pair on their knees, Tessa Farrell walked along the opposite side of the bridge.  She pushed her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans.  It's nice to know people in high places, she thought.  I missed them in Rio, but got 'em here.  She giggled and skipped for a couple of steps before stopping to stare at a soldier walking her way.

        The soldier coming her way looked familiar. Ah, ****.  That's...that's Mutt Barkley!

        She stopped as Mutt pulled alongside her.  He didn't stop, but he looked her way, smiled and winked.

        Tessa could only turn and watch him go, the black canvas bag bouncing off his back.  She stomped her foot and said, "Dammit!"

 

        * * * * * * * * * *

 

        First Joe, and then Chris began vomiting about twenty minutes after Miss Tabor, U.S. Embassy, interviewed them.  First Joe, and then Chris fell to the floor - rigidly straight, eyes wide, saliva pouring from their open mouths.  First Joe, and then Chris died from poisoning before anyone in the Cairo Metro Police Station could come to their aid.

        While Joe and Chris were dying, Valerie Mons-Tabor was ditching her wig, form fitting neoprene face form and falsies in an alley garbage can and climbing into a cab headed for a private airport ten miles outside of the Cairo city limits.  

 

        * * * * * * * * * *

 

        Still hacked into Miss Kitty's computer, Tom was the first to see the email come in to her account.  Like the others, it was short and to the point.  "Jozef and Chris Bennett."

        Holy ****, Tom thought.  He hadn't wasted much time on the assassin until now.  He'd been more concerned with locating Seth's storage room and then, finding the next one.  Looting Seth's haul was much better than actually trying to get all this stuff himself.  This assassin, though, was bad news and who knew where he would strike next.

        Tom settled behind his computer screen and started tracing the assassin's emails.

 

        * * * * * * * * * *