Countdown in Cairo by Noel Hynd Read Free Book Online

she had already started to entertain the wanderlust that was in her, a desire to be part of the action, to keep shaking things up.
    Then, “I still have a brief trip to Venezuela coming up,” she said.
    “Any dates on that yet?”
    “None yet. I’m thinking within the next few weeks.”
    “What’s the guy’s name, the philanthropist, who sends you?”
    “Joseph Collins.”
    “That could be worked into the equation,” Gamburian said. “When might you know the dates on that?”
    She shrugged. “I could go see Mr. Collins when I’m in New York and see what his thinking is.”
    “Well, as I said, considering your service and sacrifice this year, I’m sure the powers that be can let you work Venezuela into the schedule,” Gamburian said.
    “Then, yes,” she said, “I might be interested.”
    “The big bosses here see you as the third in command in New York, maybe even the second,” he said. “The top job will go to someone more administrative and, frankly, older, who’s been in Treasury longer. But the number two and three positions? They would be ones of senior investigators. Those positions presume youth and energy, someone willing to go out and shake the world up where it needs shaking up. The type of thing you showed you’re adept at in Kiev, Geneva, Paris, and Madrid, and wherever else you’ve been dumping bodies.” He paused. “The age thing is tricky. They look for a balance in these offices. Gray hair and wisdom combined with youth and diligence. A dash of treachery and savoir faire with both. How old are you again? Seventeen?”
    “I’ll be thirty on December twenty-fourth.”
    “Oh. Thirty. Ancient,” he said.
    “So this would be a major promotion also?” she asked.
    “Unquestionably,” Gamburian said. “Bigger title, heavier pay-check, increased oversight and responsibility. More physical risk perhaps. The assignment would start after the first of the year, and the offices will be in the Wall Street area. What better place to watch out for financial crime, right? You can just look out your window if things get slow. Oh, and I’m also told that much of the work will have to do with Central and South America, so the job presupposes fluent Spanish. Not just fluent, but so good that it could pass for an educated native speaker. What the State Department grades a 5 out of 5. Again, that’s you.”
    “That’s me,” she said.
    He leaned forward and wrote out a phone number. “Here’s the number to call for an interview. Think about it,” he said.
    She took the paper and folded it away. “Thanks, Mike,” she said. “I already have.”

SEVEN
    The car carrying Nagib was in New York City within five hours. The car traveled not to Manhattan, the city of skyscrapers, the upscale, and tourists, but rather to Brooklyn and a neighborhood known as Prospect Heights.
    Prospect Heights lies adjacent to Prospect Park, between Park Slope and Crown Heights. It is surrounded by the finest cultural and recreational institutions in Brooklyn—the Brooklyn Museum, the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, the Botanic Garden, and the Brooklyn Academy of Music. It is a polyglot area, with a typically New York mix of everything, notably people from the Caribbean, Africa, and the Middle East. The tenor of neighborhoods change from block to block; boarded up, burned-out structures defaced with graffiti stand next to newly renovated apartment complexes with glass elevators and rooftop gardens.
    Nagib’s car stopped at a three-story tenement on Lincoln Place. His driver guided him inside to the second-floor home of a man named Hassan, who tearfully embraced Nagib. Hassan was Nagib’s uncle, and he too had come to America illegally seven years ago.
    The uncle now had a new ID and a social security card. He had married an American woman of Lebanese descent and was legal to stay. Now he ran a small store and a small cell of conspirators. The uncle’s home was a halfway stop to Nagib’s destination.