Free The Egyptian by Layton Green Page A

against the wall.
Don’t talk back to me, you little shit! Don’t tell me about fighting! I’ve fought in two
wars
!
    He shoved Grey’s head into the wall, and the drywall cracked. Grey watched as the white powder sprinkled his head and chest in slow motion, fairy dust from a faraway realm.
    He heard his mother, lying with her cancer in the next room, begin to cry.
    The teenager next to him on the plane closed his magazine, and Grey closed his eyes.

– 12 –
     
    J ax slid into the seat across from the bald man and his bodyguard. He didn’t mind discussing the job face-to-face in a discrete location, as long as the job site was elsewhere, which he’d confirmed by email. The United States was one country where he did not, as a rule, work. He also steered clear of illegal acts in countries where he kept residences, and he preferred to live in non-extradition countries.
    But at the moment, he had a thing for Florence. What the hell. He couldn’t keep all his rules, all the time, or he might as well live in Switzerland.
    Another rule: Jax did not work for terrorist organizations. Terrorists didn’t like to keep witnesses alive, and he didn’t want terrorists chasing him around the globe. Not that many terrorists contacted him; they tended to be insular types. Mohammed had assured him terrorism was not the agenda.
    “I’m Al-Miri,” the tall one said, and didn’t bother to introduce the other.
    “Where’s Mohammed?”
    “I didn’t wish to use my name on the email. I’m sure you understand.”
    “How’d you find me?”
    “It is not important.”
    ‘”Fraid it is.”
    Al-Miri placed his hands in front of him, fingers interlocked, and drummed his left forefinger on the table. “I shall be honest. I found you through someone with whom you recently conducted business. Someone in Egypt.”
    “From the supply or the demand side?”
    “The supply,” Al-Miri said.
    Interesting. Dorian was typically a middleman. There were others who knew how to contact him via email, however. “And you want to discuss a similar service?”
    Al-Miri ceased his finger movement. “I wish my property, which you have assisted to steal, returned.”
    The sounds in the café faded into the background. Jax’s right hand found the hilt of his boot knife. Was this some sort of joke? His friend Darko, a Bosnian mercenary, had set up a scam like this before, a quick laugh.
    This didn’t feel like a joke.
    “The man you did business with was my employee,” Al-Miri said. “He stole something important from me. It is an unacceptable loss.”
    Jax leaned forward; as he did so, the ugly bodyguard shifted forward as well. Jax kept his voice low. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to get up from this table and walk out of here. You’re going to wait fifteen minutes and do the same. Then you’re going to go back to Egypt, forget you ever saw me, and never mention my name again.
Ever
. Doing anything else will be very bad for your health.
Capisce
?”
    “What is clear,” Al-Miri said, “is that you don’t wish to be my enemy. I am a reasonable man. I don’t hold you responsible for the theft. I understand you are in a distinct business, and that you simply conducted a transaction. That is why I will pay you to assist me in the location of my property.”
    “I don’t know you, and I don’t double-cross my customers. Maybe you need to sort it out with your employee.”
    “He is no longer available.”
    “Then looks like you’re out of luck. Go home. You’re out of your depth.”
    “You need only provide me the name of the party to whom you delivered my property.”
    Jax stood. “I told you, I don’t double-cross my customers.”
    “I’m afraid this is unacceptable,” Al-Miri said softly.
    “That’s the funny thing about life. You often don’t get what you want, and even more often you don’t want what you get.”
    Jax backed towards the door, keeping his eyes on the two men. Neither Al-Miri nor his