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wider as the sun continued to pound down. Megan turned the air conditioning up, providing a merciful stream of cool air, but Wolfgang still cracked a window and sucked in the dusty taste of the desert.

Everybody they passed smiled, and many of them waved. Wolfgang waved back, noticing civilians of every race and creed growing in numbers as they closed in on the city. Small children laughed and kicked soccer balls between houses, while dogs and other small animals chased each other in and out of the streets. Everything was sunburnt and dust-blasted, just the way he imagined it would be. Even so, there was an order and pride reflected in the carefully swept porches and clean houses. People here gave a damn, it was obvious, and that was more than could be said of many places he’d visited.

Wolfgang leaned back in the seat as Megan piloted onto the highway, then turned north. She chewed gum quietly, relaxed into the seat as if she were out for a Sunday drive, and Wolfgang marveled at her flawless composure. Megan never seemed to be fazed by anything—never seemed to be caught off guard. The only time he’d ever seen her become emotional was after the Paris job when she broke down while telling him about James, her boyfriend and the member of Charlie Team who died on the Damascus operation. Wolfgang had taken James’s slot on the team and had ignorantly pursued Megan from day one.

Maybe if he’d known about James, he would’ve given her more space. Maybe he would have been kinder, and more subtle, and not so, well . . . himself.

Or maybe not. Because even now, sitting in the back of the 4Runner with the memories of Megan’s pain so fresh in his mind, he still found it impossible to ignore her. He found it impossible not to remember dancing together at the gala in Paris, and the way her grey eyes shone like stars when she laughed, which wasn’t often, but it was addictive. It was impossible not to think that maybe, if he kept trying, she’d give him the time of day.

Megan’s lips twitched, and Wolfgang suddenly had the idea that she was staring—or glaring— at him through the mirror. He looked away quickly, turning to the window again, and then he saw them. Rising out of the desert, maybe five kilometers away, the glorious triangle shape of the pyramids dominated the horizon. He could see three of them from this distance—two smaller pyramids, with the Great Pyramid itself looming over them and punching almost five hundred feet into the sky. As Megan continued to plow toward the city, smaller pyramids came into view, clustered together south of the others.

“Pyramids for the queens,” Megan said, answering his unspoken question. “The Sphinx is on the other side.”

“You’ve been there?” Wolfgang asked, his gaze lost on the pyramids.

Megan grunted but didn’t answer, and both Kevin and Megan stared directly ahead, their shoulder’s stiff.

So, I was right. They’ve been here before.

He opened a bottle of water and watched the pyramids grow slowly closer, then pass by a kilometer south of the highway. Moments later, they were enveloped by the city of Giza, and everything changed. Trees and greenery of all kinds appeared, jammed into flower beds and rising between buildings. People crowded around the sidewalks, bustling and shouting as the dust faded from the air.

Giza was packed to the brim with thousands of people clogging the streets. Horns blared, busses surged by, and music pounded from open-air restaurants. It was like any other big city, with a sun-blazed intensity that was both overwhelming and thrilling at the same time.

“How many—”

“Three million,” Megan said. “Three million people live here. And you should know that.”

Wolfgang looked back out the window, too distracted by the thrilling sights and sounds to be bothered by Megan’s rebuke. She was right, anyway. He needed to study better and be more aware of the places he worked.

Buildings grew taller, and the people less packed as the 4Runner ground another few dozen blocks into the city. The residential and shopping districts faded into the business and government districts, and the children and dogs were replaced with men in business suits climbing in and out of black cars caked in dust. But the greenery was still there, fueled by the richer dirt near the Nile River.

Megan turned the 4Runner into a parking garage and found a spot on the second level. She shoved it into park and turned to Wolfgang. “I gather you’ve never been to this part of the world before.”

Wolfgang shook his head.

“Figures. Well, here’s your crash course on survival. Cairo isn’t the kind of place where Jihadists are going to jump out of random buildings, guns blazing. We’re not walking into the Wild West, here. Having said that, many of these people make their livings off of tourists. Ignorant, gullible, cash-rich tourists. Get my drift?”

“Be street smart,” Wolfgang said.

“Be very street smart. Don’t make eye contact when you don’t have to. Don’t speak unless you need to. And absolutely don’t pull your weapon. Got it?”

The three of them unpacked the transmitters Lyle had given them and snapped them onto their belts before fitting wired earpieces in place.

“Charlie Lead, this is Charlie One,” Megan said. “Com check.”

“I’ve got you loud and clear, Charlie One,” Edric radioed back. “We’re almost in position. Deploy your team.”

Megan led them across the garage and down the stairs to the first level. Wolfgang breathed in the deep scent of a foreign city, savoring the dirt and the strange food and the unfamiliar body odor. It was at once fragrant and at once foreign—the smelly cocktail of a new place full of new people.

I like this. I like being someplace new.

Megan stopped at the base of the garage and brushed her crimson hair behind one ear, then she motioned to the northeast. “The museum is three blocks that way. We’ll split up and approach from different angles. Check in frequently, and try to blend in. Any

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