Free Countdown in Cairo by Noel Hynd

business,” Federov said, “the answer is no. And why would I lie to you at this point? I’ve made my money; I don’t live in Ukraine or Russia anymore, so I tell you again: I take my winning chips, and I walk away from the table. Is that so hard to understand?”
    “Maybe,” she said.
    “And I have some friends here,” he announced easily. “So I socialize, have dinner and drinks, and mind my own business.”
    “How long are you here for?” she asked.
    “Don’t play coy with me, Alex LaDucova,” he laughed, finishing his drink and signaling to the waiter that he could use another. “I’m sure the record of my air travel has already been given to you. I’m here for ten days. And you knew that.”
    She smiled. “I didn’t say I didn’t know that.”
    “Then why did you ask?”
    “To see if you’d tell me the truth.”
    Federov raised his thick hand expressively. “Again, why would I not tell the truth at this point? You have all the power here, not me.”
    The waiter presented Federov with his second drink, also a double. Alex was working slowly on the first half of hers.
    “These ‘Peacock’ drinks,” Federov said. “They’re like a woman’s breast. One is not enough and three would be too much.”
    “You said you had three yesterday.”
    “Yes, I’m a pervert and it was too much. Tonight I am a gentleman because I am with a lady.”
    “Tell me about your friend.”
    “Ah, this friend I am seeing this evening,” Federov said next. “I’m glad you can come along. This is, ah, ‘good fortune’—you’re well educated; what is the ten-dollar word?”
    “ ‘Fortuitous’?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is there an ulterior motive?”
    “There might be,” he said.
    “Why don’t you tell me then, or is it one of those things I have to figure out?”
    “No,” he said. “His name is Paul Guarneri. He is a former business associate of mine in New York. We’re going to meet him at 7:00 p.m. in Little Italy.”
    “What sort of business?” Alex asked, suddenly suspicious.
    “You can ask him that yourself. I’ll tell you right now that Paul is from a ‘connected family’ in New York, but his businesses now are entirely legitimate. Like many people in his position, he has friends on both sides of the law.”
    “Thanks for the warning.”
    “I mentioned you to him. He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
    “I don’t date wise guys, Yuri. You know that.”
    “His interest is elsewhere,” he said. “Come along. You won’t regret, hey.”
    She processed a lot of information quickly. Then she decided she would go along with it and file a complete report as soon as she returned to Washington. If Guarneri was connected, could an association of this sort hurt her? As an investigator, little tidbits that she picked up at such meetings could sometimes prove of immense value.
    “Okay. That’s fine,” she said. “I look forward to meeting your gangster pal.”
    He laughed again. She sipped more of her drink. The Peacock started to resemble rocket fuel, and she was on the runway. Then she realized he was looking at her very contemplatively, as if there were something else he wished to bring up.
    “What?” she asked.
    He reached directly to her. She held her position, not knowing where his hand was going. It went under her chin to the neckline of her blouse; she allowed it. He fingered the pendant that she wore, the one fashioned by a child for her in Venezuela. He looked at it thoughtfully.
    “You still wear this,” he noted.
    “I do.”
    “You used to wear a little gold cross. I had almost forgotten. That’s what you had when we first met.”
    She opened her mouth to remind him what had happened, but he continued the line of thought for her.
    “But you lost that little cross in Kiev,” he said. “The same day you lost the man you were in love with.”
    “That’s correct,” she said.
    “Life is strange,” he said.
    “It can be. Cruel too.”
    He gently pulled his hand away. In