Deadly Strike

Cairo, Egypt Katherine "Kat" Killinger couldn't remember a colder day in Cairo. An unusual chilling fog and misty rain slithered around the old buildings, whipped through this out-of-the-way narrow street, and sliced through the tan, cotton slacks, thin white blouse, and casual jacket she wore. The coat completely hid the Walther P88 9mm automatic pistol in her belt holster. She shivered a moment in the damp chill, then concentrated on staring through the thinning fog and mist at the two-story white-and-yellow office building that was the target of her stakeout. Kat watched for a bomber. She and Specialist partner Duncan Bancroft were here at the invitation of the Cairo police to help them find the terrorists who were targeting American-owned businesses. Six blasts had taken place in Cairo in the past six weeks. Kat pursed full lips. Her brown eyes wavered a moment and she closed them. She'd been watching this well-painted white-and-yellow office building for hours now and it was beginning to tell. This was the third day of the stakeout and she was starting to question their logic and their plan. She steeled herself for more waiting. The triathlons were more like this for pure energy sapping. Kat let out a long-held breath and leaned against the building just out of the misty rain. This whole street smelled of age and dirt and stale Egyptian tobacco. The Geological American Oil Survey office she watched stood just across the street and one building to the right. In spite of the rain, the street was peppered with people. An outdoor market a block down drew shoppers even in the wet. A pair of young girls with backpacks hurried past, chattering and laughing. People came and went from the small offices on both sides of the street. A dozen men and women walked past the survey office every few minutes. Kat studied them all. She tensed as a trio came toward the office on the far sidewalk. A woman in full chador carried a parcel under one arm and a shopping bag that looked heavy. Close behind her a student with a backpack idled along in no rush to get anywhere. The third person was a large man with a full black beard and a low-riding hat that hid most of his face. She tensed when she saw that the man carried a black suitcase. Two of the other bombings had involved suitcases. Her right hand hovered over the butt of the Walther. Kat scrutinized the veiled woman. She was still one office away from the survey firm. As the matron angled closer to the building, Kat watched the man. He had moved to the outside of the sidewalk to pass the woman. He walked quickly and didn't even glance toward the oil firm. The boy with the backpack couldn't be more than ten. She looked away from him and at the woman near the glass windows of the oil-company office. A moment later Kat relaxed as the big man strode quickly past the target office and vanished up the street in the mists. The veiled woman hesitated in front of the oil firm, looked around, then continued past it. Two men dressed all in black hurried along the sidewalk blocking out Kat's view of the student with the backpack. Then she found him. He was only four feet tall, slender with a tumbled mass of wet, black hair. He had stopped in front of the oil-survey office. He shrugged out of his pack. He reached inside it for a moment, then placed the pack against the facade of the store. At once Kat pulled her Walther and charged away from the empty building she had been hiding beside and sprinted into the misty rain. She was still thirty yards from the youth. The kid could have reached inside the pack to activate a bomb's timer. She ran flat out toward the office and saw the boy turn and rush away from the building, coming directly at her. He saw her in his way but kept running forward. The boy screamed something at Kat in Arabic. She didn't understand the words but felt his anger. KatCunningham, Chet is the author of 'Deadly Strike' with ISBN 9780553580808 and ISBN 0553580809.