Free The Forbidden Tomb by Chris Kuzneski Page A

the car wasn’t something Cobb had planned, but rather a necessary evil born of the situation. Now the best thing that could happen would be for someone else to notice the keys in the unlocked car and take it on a joyride of his own. The more distance he could get between themselves and a stolen vehicle, the better.
    ‘Name’s Simon, by the way.’ He thrust his hand toward Cobb as they strolled toward a main road. ‘Thanks for the help back there.’
    ‘Sure,’ Cobb said with a furtive glance.
    Despite their time in the car, this was his first chance to size up the new addition. He was lean and wiry, a few inches shorter than Cobb and at least five years younger. His hair was closely cropped, and stubble covered his face. His look appeared to be one of convenience more than personal style. Nothing about him stood out. Not his size. Not his features. Not his attire. It was as if he had made every effort to blend in.
    Knowing little else about him, Cobb turned to Sarah.
    ‘Jack, this is Simon Dade,’ she said. ‘Simon, this is Jack—’
    Cobb cut her off. ‘Jack is good enough for now.’
    Sarah understood Cobb’s hesitation. He didn’t know Dade, and until he did their relationship would remain casual, so first names were just fine with him.
    She continued her explanation, hoping to allay some of Cobb’s concerns. ‘Jack, Simon is a CIA asset. He’s what they call a “tour guide”.’
    ‘An asset,
not
an agent?’
    ‘That’s correct.’
    ‘And what does a CIA tour guide do?’ Cobb asked.
    ‘Pretty much the same thing as an actual tour guide,’ she replied, ‘only he knows everything about the places that you’d want to avoid on vacation.’
    Dade nodded. ‘It’s my job to know the city inside and out. Who’s responsible for what, and where, and how? Think of me as your local “big brother”. I can give you intel on every corner of Alexandria.’
    Cobb glanced at him. ‘Does that mean you have surveillance capabilities?’
    Dade grinned. ‘I might have access to a camera or two, sure. What are you trying to find out?’
    ‘Nothing yet. I just want to know your limits.’
    ‘Honestly? I’m not a very good cook. Other than that, I don’t have many.’
    Cobb considered the comment. This early on, he wasn’t sure if he liked Dade’s cockiness or hated it. ‘When did you spot us?’
    ‘The airport,’ he answered.
    ‘Bullshit,’ Sarah said. ‘No way you spotted us that early.’
    ‘Wanna bet?’ Dade pulled his phone from his pocket and found what he was looking for. He showed the picture to Sarah. ‘You’re very photogenic.’
    The image showed Cobb and Sarah exiting their private plane from Florida. Chartered by Papineau under the name of a dummy corporation that was buried under four layers of paperwork, the private plane had delivered them to the Cairo International Airport, nearly three hours from their final destination.
    The arrangement was intended to guarantee their anonymity.
    But it hadn’t worked with the tour guide.
    She glared at Dade. ‘I wasn’t listed on the passenger manifest, and we didn’t fly into Alexandria. How did you . . .?’
    He smiled cockily. ‘In my line of work, it pays to have your bases covered. Alexandria. Cairo. I’ve got connections at all the private terminals and airfields in Egypt. The passengers of every flight are documented and sent to me and a few other associates. We get our information from mechanics in the hangars, controllers on the tarmac, even some of the pilots themselves. Anyone with access.’
    ‘That has to be hundreds of flights a day,’ Sarah replied.
    ‘Try thousands,’ Dade corrected. ‘But trust me: the right picture to the right people is worth the effort.’ He smiled. ‘CIA checks don’t bounce.’
    It was a joke – the CIA would never risk a paper trail – but Sarah understood his point. A couple of hours spent scanning through photos each night was worth the government payday. The CIA was a lot of things,