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A phone call interrupted Ahmad's sleep. He had no idea he had dozed off. Jumping up, he saw that a guard stood at the entrance.

"one of your friends from Egypt wants to talk to you."

Ahmad followed him, taking his package with him. No way was he leaving it here where someone might steal it. Entering the phone booth, he wondered whether it was one of his friends calling him or someone else.

"Hello," he said.
"Ahmad, it is Gamal, how have you been. We heard the worst news. is it true?" Gamal spoke quickly without even a pause for breath.
Ahmad sighed. "i'm afraid. what happened to the fortune teller?"
"Someone hit her on the head after we left for the airport. Seems they learned of her part in your escape. It happened while we were still on the road." Gamal said. "Abu... has hired a lawyer to represent you here. We can only hope she doesn't die. If she lives she can witness for you. Otherwise, it may be difficult to prove your innocence. especially since Abu Isaiah has everything worked out to his advantage."

Ahmad shook his head. Maybe the fortune teller had been right. Maybe the map and key were cursed and it would be better for him to give them up. But that wasn't Ahmad's way of doing things. Once challenged, he fought to the end. He never gave up before, no matter what life had thrown at him; surviving was his game. There was no way he wold give up now.

"keep me updated," Ahmad said. "while I try and get this mess sorted out." Then he hung up.
 
Ahmad met with the lawyer the state had appointed for his case the next day. He told him everything that had happened, the will and map and key he'd received. The events in Egypt, his conversation with the fortune-teller and what she'd told him about Abu Isaiah, how Abu Iasiah had been poisoning his great uncle, the hijacking of the plane, etc etc.

He learned that some people were testifying against him, that he was mentally unstable, that there had been no hijacking - the plane was going in the right direction. he'd simply taken the wrong plane, etc. etc.

Ahmad realized that his past, his seizures, his military history all didn't help his case. They made the opponents seem right.
And Ahmad wondered if it might be true. What if he was imagining a lot of things? What proof did he have that what he said was true? Could it be that he'd hit the fortune-teller before he left Egypt? His friends had been there with him when he boarded the taxi. Surely they'd seen that the fortune-teller was alright. But what if he'd struck her before that in a fit that he didn't remember while she was alone with him? What if the effect of the blow had come after he'd left? What if she'd fallen after his taxi sped away? Effects of head injuries could show later and be fatal.

By the time his meeting with his lawyer ended, Ahmad was wondering his sanity.
 
Important plot twist. One of the men in Ahmad's group (Ahmad's four friends) is a double-crosser. That is how the opponents learn of everything. The fact that this man is so cunning and careful not to let anyone learn his part in the betrayal makes it ever more difficult. He's always showing himself to care about Ahmad's situation and in doing so he manages to gt all the information he needs! He's always one step ahead of the others because gets all the inside information while they don't know the truth about him. Note that some questions about him have to be answered: Was he always on the opposite side, doing his part of spying on Ahmad? or did he change sides at some point in time due to some reason, such as greed for money?

Which of the four friends is it? I haven't decided yet. It may be the one who apparently "saw" someone running from Ahmad's house in Egypt. Was he the one who tried to drown Ahmad? Or was he an accomplice who played his part in letting the infiltrator do his part. Did he intend to let Ahmad die that day or was he planning to simply get him out of the way by putting him in the hospital while others searched Ahmad's house for the map? Also, this may explain why Ahmad's medical case wasn't treated properly. He was being treated as a mental person instead of a crime victim. Forensic doctors weren't called in his case. Even the doctor seemed to be one of the enemies.
 
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As he waited for his trial, he was given the good news that the fortune-teller had come out of coma. Unfortunately, she had amnesia so couldn't tell anyone who had hit her. Ahmad seemed to be going backwards. He spoke to his lawyer about getting out on bail. unfortunately, his mental condition wasn't trusted, he learned. there was the possibility of transferring him to the mental ward. Additionally, he risked losing control of the estate he'd just inherited. Seemed like everything was going in favor of Abu Isaiah. "The caretaker of the estate will get control of the estate in case it is proven you are mentally unfit," he was told.

HOW DOES AHMAD GET OUT OF ALL THIS? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT? WILL SOMETHING ELSE HAPPEN TO HINDER HIS ESCAPE TO FREEDOM, HIS STRUGGLE TO PROVE HIS INNOCENCE AND SANITY?
 
Over the next few days, Ahmad spoke to advisors to figure out how to proceed with his case. Ahmad told him it was absolutely necessary to prove that he was not insane.

His advisors told him he was between a rock and a hard place. If he proved that he wasn't insane, then he definitely faced a much harder sentence since it would be hard to prove his innocence in the case. if he was determined mentally ill, he'd at least get out of jail but be stuck in a mental hospital. and Abu Isaiah would get control of his estate, unless he had someone else who could do that. Ahmad needed to speak to his lawyer immediately. he needed some input. where was the lawyer?
 
Here are a few ideas for conflict:

As time passes, Ahmad becomes suspicious of his Egyptian friends. It's obvious that someone is an informant, letting his enemies in on everything. Ahmad doesn't know who or how many are double-crossers but he stops trusting them all. Meanwhile Gamal tries to get Ahmad out on bail. He takes a trip to Ahmad's city to get that done. In the meantime, Ahmad's enemies in Egypt try to get him extradited to Egypt for attempted murder.

Also, the fortune teller has gained consciousness but has amnesia so can't testify.
 
Ahmed gazed at the rosy sky as the sun began to disappear behind the dark mountains. Only now did he truly appreciate the blessing of being able to wonder at Allah's creation, after being in a dark jail cell for what seemed like years. A feeling of warmth and comfort swept over him as he remembered that evening in the quaint, old, Egyptian inn, where he had laughed together with his dearest friends.

He was standing by the window in the same resort he had awoken in some time ago, after he had parachuted from the aeroplane and blacked out. Gamal was behind him, preparing the prayer mats for the evening prayer.

'Gamal, I'm so grateful you managed to bail me out. I was beginning to lose all hope in there,' said Ahmed, turning from the window.

'Alhamdulillah. I'm so glad to see you again, Ahmed,' smiled Gamal.

There was a moment of silence.

'Ahmed, I know you've been through a lot lately, and I know you feel you can't trust anyone, even your closest friends,' began Gamal. 'And you were right to be suspicious, because we discovered Abu Hasan has been betraying us.'

Ahmed looked shocked.

'Yes. I overheard some suspicious phone calls, and we had noticed he had been behaving strangely. None of us had known him for very long, so we began doubting him. When we finally confronted him, he ran away without a trace.'

Gamal looked Ahmed in the eyes.

'Ahmed, you've known the rest of us for several years. Jasem and Ali are very good people. We all care about you and would never think of trying to harm you. Please, don't let Abu Hasan's betrayal cause you to lose trust for all of us.'

Ahmed didn't know what to say. Inside, he felt confused and scared. At the same time, he wanted to believe Gamal. He could only nod his head and smile, then it was time to pray. Somehow, standing side by side in prayer in front of Allah re-ignited the bond of brotherhood between them, and Ahmed felt a huge burden lift off his shoulders. How he had missed his friends, and how glad he was that he had someone with him in this desolate place.

They went to the adjacent restaurant to have something to eat. Ahmed hadn't had a good meal in months, but despite this, he didn't really enjoy his meal. His mind was racing frantically. He couldn't stop thinking about Abu Hasan's deceit. It was true that he was the person they knew least well and if anyone were to turn against him, Abu Hasan was the most likely. But when, why, how...? It didn't make any sense. He thought back to the series of events in Egypt prior to his flight. Then something occurred to him.

'Gamal, if Abu Hasan was after the key and the will and the map, why did he allow them to be returned to me before my flight?'

'We don't really know what he was after, Ahmed. Exactly what his role was in all this isn't clear. We just know he was passing on information to an unknown party. Eat, Ahmed, you've hardly touched your food.'

Ahmed did his best to eat but he had no appetite. His mind was still a tangled web of thoughts getting deeper. The map hadn't made any sense to him at all. Maybe there was another piece of it? Maybe it needed decoding. That must be why these items had not been taken from him. Maybe they were keeping him in jail because they needed him to decipher what they were unable to. His great-uncle must have left behind particular clues that only Ahmed could unravel. The letters... he must read them again. And the stone... had that just been a dream, or was that a part of the puzzle too? What if Abu Hasan ran away with it?

Later that evening, Ahmed and Gamal were sitting by the fireplace away from the other guests. Ahmed was going through the items in the package from his great-uncle, and in his hands were the plane tickets. Strangely, there were two of them. He also realised that there were only a few days left for the assigned date of the flights. He mentioned this to Gamal who reminded him that he was on bail and failure to appear at the courts could result in serious consequences. But Ahmed considered how unlikely it was that he would be proven innocent. He must take this opportunity to get away before he was imprisoned for good. But how could he catch a flight when he was a suspect for a crime? There would be police at the airport looking out for him like before. There must be a way. He mentioned his thoughts to Gamal, who thought he was insane to skip bail. But eventually even he could see that there was no other way. Ahmed stood very little chance of sorting out this mess if he ended up in prison. He might even be killed. Gamal suggested finding another airport. The mountain range bordered a neighbouring country, so if they could get to the other side, they would be able to find a suitable airport. But how?

'Pardon me,' came an old voice. The two of them jumped in surprise. It was the owner of the inn who had come over to them. 'It's almost midnight. We will be extinguishing all fires in the lounge area soon.'

'Thank you, we were just leaving,' said Gamal.

That night, Ahmed tossed and turned as he tried to think of a way to get out of the country he was in. He couldn't get any sleep whatsoever. Some time in the early hours of the morning, he could hear noises outside. He crept to the window and saw that supplies were being unloaded off a truck and carried into the restaurant building. Ahmed tried to read the words on the side of the truck but it was too dark and the writing was too small. Ahmed rushed to wake up Gamal and asked him to try and read it.

'I can only read one bit. It says... it's.... it's the name of the neighbouring country!' cried Gamal. 'Ahmed! We've found our way out of here!'
 
Ahmad thought hard about running away. He knew that was a dangerous thing to do but he also knew that it was likely he would be extradited to Egypt and then he'd never get justice. And finally he decided the right thing would be to get away. Gamal learned from the men at the inn that the truck was to leave in the early hours of the morning, around dawn. They'd pass the border while it was still dark.
"We'll go inside the back and hide amongst the cartons," he said. He made it sound so simple Ahmad wondered if he'd done this before. And so the plan was set. While everyone else slept, they crept out of the inn and into the truck. They took a few bottles of water with them. "Hopefully, we'll get to a nearby town in a few hours," Gamal said.

Before long, the trucks started moving. To freedom, Ahmad thought. He hoped this plan wouldn't backfire because he was tired of the turmoil. His life had turned upside down and he didn't know how to straighten it. Whatever he did made him go 360 degrees around.

The trucks stopped on the border for what seemed like hours while officers checked around. Throughout that time, Ahmad's fear skyrocketed and he felt nauseated from the anxiety. Several times he heard voices near their truck and he was sure they'd get caught. But finally, just when Ahmad was becoming hopeless, the trucks started moving again.
 
Ahmed dozed off into a deep sleep despite the bumpy ride, the constant jerking and the roaring engine of the truck, as he had not slept well for some time. All the events of this strange episode in his life returned to him in the form of a muddled dream. He was running through the marketplaces of Egypt, running from doctors and nurses trying to restrain him, running even from his friends whom he thought he could trust. He was holding the items in the package: the silver key, the letter, the will, the map and the plane tickets. He was back in the inn made of solid stone. The man in the red fez was talking to him. What was he saying? Something about the stone. The stone was shining so brightly that it blinded his eyes. There was heat all around him. Something was wrong.

Ahmed awoke with a start, sweat trickling down his back, his heart pounding in his chest. He was struggling to breathe. His head was throbbing. It took a moment to register where he was. Light was streaking into the truck through a tear in its side, shining directly onto Ahmed. He moved out of the sunlight and felt the cold wind from the mountains as it whistled loudly through the tear. He moved towards it to get a glimpse outside, moving past Gamal who was asleep by a crate nearby. Ahmed could see a landscape of steep slopes covered in sparkling white and protruding black. Clouds rested gracefully on the breathtaking peaks in the distance. Frozen lakes glittered in the morning sun. A fine mist hung in the air. They must be at very high altitude, Ahmed thought. He felt calmer and his breathing was better. His mind drifted back to his dream... the last images seemed the most powerful. He must try to find out about Red Fez.

'Where are we?' mumbled Gamal from somewhere in the shadows.

'We're travelling through a mountain pass,' replied Ahmed.

'Where's all that cold air coming from? Is there anything to eat?' Gamal said, shivering.

They searched the truck and found a few cans rolling on the floor. They seemed to contain some kind of soup, though they couldn't read what the writing said. They managed to open the cans and drank to their fill, the soup tasting rather good.

Some time later, when the ride had become less bumpy and the weather had become warmer, they arrived in a bustling town. The trucks came to a stop in a dark warehouse and the drivers got out and left. The two boys then contemplated how to get out. Eventually they decided to cut the tear in the side a bit wider, so they could squeeze out of it. They then managed to make their way out of the building through a window. A man on the opposite side of the street, sitting by the road, was watching them. They walked briskly out of the street and kept looking back to make sure they weren't being followed. It was a nice, old-fashioned little town but they had no idea where they were. They just wanted to find the airport and get away in case the police were looking for them. Would they already know Ahmed had skipped bail?

After a lot of aimless searching, asking strangers, boarding a train, hailing a taxi in another city, they finally arrived at the airport at nightfall. They were conscious not to attract attention in case they were wanted by the police. The date on the tickets was for the following day, so they would have to wait until tomorrow for their flights. Ahmed stood at the check-in desk and showed his tickets to the lady at the counter, while Gamal tried to phone Jasem and Ali to see how they were doing. The two of them looked around anxiously for any sign of trouble.

'Sir, where did you purchase these tickets?' asked the lady at the desk.

'Err... is there a problem?' asked Ahmed.

'Yes, sir, I'm afraid there is. These are not valid plane tickets.'

Ahmed was confused. 'What do you mean? They have to be valid!'

The lady shook her head. 'I've tried scanning them several times, they are not valid tickets. I'm afraid you will have to speak to one of the security officers.'

'Let me check something, I think I know what the problem is,' said Ahmed. He took the tickets, grabbed Gamal and quickly began walking away. The lady called after him and began calling security.

'Gamal, we gotta run!' said Ahmed under his breath.

They scanned the hall around them as they walked, looking for exits. A security officer muttering into a mouthpiece had spotted them. In the opposite direction was the way out. They ran. From the corners of their eyes they could see movement, presumably officers coming towards them. An officer moved into the doorway from which they had to get out. They darted up an adjacent stairway, weaving in and out of people. Panting, they reached the first floor and saw a sign for car parking. They followed the direction until they entered the dark car park where there were many places to hide. Ahmed began to black out and held on to the railing at the edge.

'Ahmed, you okay?' whispered Gamal, grabbing Ahmed's arm.

'Yes, I'll be fine,' said Ahmed in a faint voice.

Gamal looked over the railing and saw that a slope led downwards, but it was too dark to see where. Then a car drove past and he knew it was a road. They heard the sound of echoing footsteps running into the car park.

'Quick! Over the wall!' Gamal whispered.

Without thinking, they dived over the railing and rolled down the grassy slope until they reached the ground floor outside. They followed the road, trying to remain in the shadows. Police sirens could be heard nearby; they could only guess they were searching for them. Gamal was looking out for a taxi and before long, one came their way. The two of them dashed into the back seat and told the driver to drive. They didn't know where to go. When they caught their breath, Ahmed asked Gamal if he had spoken to Jasem and Ali.

'Oh, I couldn't get through to either of them,' replied Gamal.

'That's strange,' said Ahmed.

They seemed to have come so close, thought Ahmed. But another setback had come their way. Why would his great-uncle send him plane tickets that weren't valid? There must be an explanation...
 
They got off at an unknown location. the taxi driver refused to go any further. "The village is not too far," he said. "There's an inn there."

"Better that than nothing," Gamal muttered as they started toward the village. They walked for hours passing dusty old homes and shops. Every once in a while they asked some for directions for the nearest inn. "It is at the next town," someone told them. "Just follow this road." It was a dusty mud road that seemed to go nowhere. "I wonder if we're going in the right direction," Ahmad said. He was starting to lose hope. What if they got stranded nowhere and couldn't get back? What if they died of hunger? Ahmad's stomach grumbled in agreement, letting him know how hungry he was. He wished they'd taken some soup cans from the truck.

"Let's sit for a bit," Gamal suggested, sitting down on the side of the road. "All right," Ahmad agreed. And they sat. Ahmad's feet were sore from the walking. He wanted to lie down but how could he? It was late afternoon and they had to find the inn before nightfall.

"What did the man say? how many kilometers?" he asked.

Gamal shook his head. "he didn't say."

After a bit, they got back up and started walking again. Just as Ahmad was thinking he'd fall from the exhaustion, a horse led coach passed them from a side road. "Need a ride?" asked the driver?

They nodded and boarded the coach. "To the inn," Gamal said. About a half hour later, the coach stopped at a small building. "Here," the driver said pointing at the building with a sign in a different language. this is the inn."

Ahmad and Gamal nodded, paid the driver a few coins, and got off. Ahmad was glad the neighboring country's currency was accepted here. They entered the inn and Gamal went to inquire about rooms while Ahmad sat and stretched his legs. Just then Ahmad's cell phone beeped. He looked at it and saw there was a message from an unknown number, unknown location. It read "Lose Gamal."

Ahmad shuddered with fear as Gamal turned and pointed toward him, saying something to the innkeeper. It apparently was an innocent gesture. Gamal was inquiring about rooms for himself and Ahmad and pointed out Ahmad, but what did he really say to the innkeeper? The innkeeper eyed Ahmad and then picked up a register and flipped through the pages. Then he gave Gamal a key.

Room 205, Gamal announced reaching Ahmad's table. I've told the innkeeper to send our meal upstairs. It will take a 1/2 hour approximately.

Ahmad nodded. "Let me get some biscuits," he said walking to the café. He ordered a coffee and some biscuits and they sat and ate quietly. Then the two went upstairs.

While Gamal waited for their food to come, Ahmad went to the bathroom. "I'll have a bath," he said. "It will ease my bones." Closing the door, he turned the shower on. Then he examined the window. It was large enough for him to fit through and the fall wasn't too high. Climbing out, he jumped, hoping he didn't break his legs in the process. Then he ran as fast as he could as far away from the inn as he could through the empty streets. After he was far enough, he slowed down and started on a mud road that seemed to be leading to a main road. He could see coaches in the distance. When he got there, he flagged a coach. "To the next town," he said, climbing in. The driver nodded and smacking his horse with his whip, he started the coach. And once again in his life, Ahmad was on his own. He didn't know who to believe, Gamal or the phone message, but he knew one thing. He couldn't trust anyone. He was on his own.
 
Abu Hasan's head was throbbing and his lip felt like it was busted. Darkness surrounded him. He didn't know where he was and he couldn't remember what had happened, how he had gotten into that state. Then the memories rushed into his mind. The beating, the threats, until he gave in to hooded men and sent Ahmad the message. They threatened to kill him. He had no other way but to do what they said.

Several weeks ago his wife and children had been kidnapped and he'd been told they would be killed if he didn't give them information about Ahmad, so he'd complied hoping nothing bad would happen to Ahmad. He thought that was the end of it. Once they'd been let go, he'd taken his wife and children and left them with his parents where they would be safe.

But the evil had come after him. When he was returning home one night, a car had stopped asking for directions. Abu Hasan went near it to help the driver, but the driver didn't seem to understand which way to go and had asked Abu Hasan if he'd get in the car and guide him. Thinking nothing of it, Abu had complied. But as soon as he entered the car, a passenger from the back seat pressed a white cloth onto Abu's face and in moments Abu Hasan faded out. He awoke in a warehouse.

"We know you know where he is." one man said.

Abu shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Where am I?"

"A blow to the head and Abu landed against the wall. You know well who we are talking about. Ahmad."

"He's in jail," Abu Hasan replied. "I know nothing more.'

"He's out on bail and you know who helped him."

"If you don't tell us, we'll kill you," another man said pointing a gun at him.

"Get your information from someone else," Abu said. "I've done enough." Abu Hasan wasn't worried for his own life as he'd been for his wife and kids'. Or so he thought. The beatings that followed him convinced him he couldn't tolerate this. These men were really dangerous, capable of anything.

"What do you want from me," Abu cried out finally.

"Get Ahmad alone, away from his companion. Get him to mistrust him."

Abu didn't want to do this but life was too dear. He knew that if Ahmad was left alone it would be easier for the thugs to get to him. Where were Gamal and Ahmad? Ahmad's phone didn't show up on GPS.

"Well?"

Abu hesitated but then he spotted a long shiny knife that a third man had pulled out and he realized he couldn't resist. He was no doubt the weakest of the friends. His friends would hate him, and rightfully so. They already did when they'd learned that he'd given Ahmad's whereabouts to the opponents.

Searching through his pockets, Abu took out his cell phone and sent the message, hoping Ahmad never received it. Hoping Ahmad had discarded his phone. When the message was sent, Abu quickly threw the phone onto the floor and stepped on hit hard, crushing it so his opponents wouldn't get Ahmad's number. He didn't know if they'd kill him but he didn't care. He couldn't let them have Ahmad's number.

One man tried to stop him but wasn't quick enough. Their leader walked upto Abu Hasan. "Quite a thoughtful man, aren't you." he said in rage. And then he struck Abu, causing him to black out. Abu fell to the ground. As he blacked out he was sure he would die. But now, he realized they had let him live. Why? he wondered. He looked around. Where were they. Would they be back to complete the job and finish him off? He was glad he wasn't killed yet but knew he had to get away. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he saw that the floor was empty. His crushed phone wasn't there. Raising himself, he felt the walls to find a way out of the place. He found a narrow hallway that led to another wider area and he realized he was in some sort of warehouse. After searching for a while, he found a door that opened easily. Getting out, he noticed it was nighttime and he was in an area he'd never been before; some sort of wilderness. The road seemed to have just warehouses and nothing else. And he wondered if he'd find a way back to town. He had to get back. He had to get another message to Ahmad and one to Gamal, to let them know what had happened. He hopped he wasn't too late.

Crying, he made his way on the empty road. He hopped he was headed in the right direction.
 
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'Grigor! Give me a hand with this!'

Grigor walked over to the rocket launcher and began loading it without thinking. He recognised the soldier as one from his squad. Somewhere nearby there was a loud explosion and a violent shuddering of the desert ground. Sand was flying everywhere. Blood was on his hands. Pain in every limb. The rocket fired and everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, he could see two faces looking at him.

'Sergei, go and call the doctor! He's awake!' Boris was saying.

'Where am I?'

'A hospital in Russia. Don't worry, you'll be OK,' replied Boris. 'But you have to get off now.'

'Get off?'

'Yes, this is your stop. Sir? Hello?'

Ahmed opened his eyes and realised he was at the back of a coach. The driver was standing by his side, saying something in a foreign language, with a few words of English. Ahmed staggered off the coach, wondering about the meaning of these images that kept resurfacing in his mind and whether they were recollections of his past.

Upon disembarking, he looked around him. He seemed to be in some sort of countryside. Golden light was piercing its way through dark, indigo clouds. It was almost morning. He trudged along the dirty road as the coach behind him disappeared, leaving only a trail of dust. There were houses in the distance and farmland stretching out as far as he could see. The air was filled with the typical farmyard smell.

He came across a river glowing in the morning rays, where he performed ablution and prayed. Then he sat and supplicated to Allaah, asking for His help and guidance in this difficult trial. Around him, he could hear the village slowly stirring to life. As he got up, he realised he was close to a house. Someone was walking slowly towards him. An old man with a warm smile. The man seemed to take pity on Ahmed and took him inside, where he gave him some warm milk and freshly baked bread. Ahmed could scarcely believe that he had been met with such kindness after so much cruelty and distrust. He did not know how to thank the man. He did not even speak his language. He shook hands warmly and gestured his gratitude, then left, thanking Allaah as he walked for sending this mercy.

Ahmed walked until he found a secluded spot to rest, where a mossy tree trunk lay on the ground beside a lake. Ducks and geese were sleeping peacefully nearby. He sat there for hours, staring at the lake but hardly seeing it. His mind was filled with images of what had happened, trying to make sense of it all. The plane tickets were in his hands. They must be some sort of clue, he thought. A message. He had checked every detail and considered different possibilities. Could the dates be numbers for coordinates? There was nothing remarkable about most of it, except... the code at the bottom. It was just numbers. He stared at them. What if it was a phone number, with both tickets combined? As ridiculous as it sounded, he pulled out his phone whose battery was almost finished. He said bismillah and dialled the numbers, a feeling of suspense building inside him. He put the phone to his ear and heard it ringing. He felt as if butterflies were in his stomach.

'Hello?' came a gruff voice.

'Err, hello,' said Ahmed.

'Name?'

'Err, Grigor Thomas,' replied Ahmed, looking at the name on the ticket.

'Grigor! I've been waiting for you. Are you safe?'

'Yes I'm OK, I - '

'Where are you?'

Ahmed hesitated. 'Who is this?'

'You might not remember me, but you will know me when you see me. Listen, we don't have much time. We need to meet.'

Ahmed wanted to ask how he could know he could trust this man. But he considered the fact that his great-uncle was the one who wanted him to contact this person. If there was anyone who might able to help, it must be this man.

'Grigor, are you there?'

'Yes, yes I'm here.'

'I need to know your location so I can get you to safety.'

Ahmed told him the name of the country he had travelled to through the mountain pass, and that he was in an unknown village somewhere. He told him about the airport city and some details of his journeying since then.

'Roger. I think I know where you might be. I can get a chopper to you by nightfall, can you stay low till then?'

'I'll try,' said Ahmed.

'Keep your phone switched off until later. I'll text you where you need to be. Don't trust anyone.'

The call ended.

The conversation echoed in Ahmed's mind. What did he mean, you will know me when you see me? Maybe it was Boris or Sergei. But why not just say their name? He could not help but feel uncertain about the whole idea. A helicopter coming for him? It sounded crazy.
 
Ahmad waited for the sunlight to spread. He placed his nearly dead phone on a rock, angling it so it would be in the sun's path. He was grateful for the blessing of solar energy and even more happy he'd gotten the beta version of the solar powered mobile phone. The phone would recharge in no time. It worked all right most of the time.

In the mean time, he decided to go for a swim in the lake. It would refresh him. As he looked around him, he saw that the place was beyond anything he'd ever seen, even in pictures. Such was the beauty and serenity of this country village. If he hadn't been going through these life-threatening conditions, he'd actually enjoy being here.

After the swim, he gathered his belongings and started for the marketplace to catch something to eat. He longed for a hot bun and some coffee.

***
Meanwhile, Abu Hasan continued to walk on the long road, his feet bruised. He had to find his friends, had to get word to Ahmad and Gamal. Oh Allah, let them be safe. He cried out aloud, looking up to dawn sky. He'd come a long way according to the road signs he'd passed, but he was still miles away from the nearest town.

***
The leader of the thug handed the crushed phone to the data recovery technician and inquired whether he could obtain information from it, explaining that it was necessary to get the whereabouts of a fugitive wanted for attempted murder.

"Piece of cake," the technician said, and got to work immediately. Before long, the thug had obtained Ahmad and Gamal's phone numbers. He handed their phone numbers to his partner in crime. "Here, find out where they are through GPS."


***

Gamal awoke from a deep sleep, his body still tired from all the walking. Looking about, he saw that he was in the motel room he and Ahmad were sharing. He'd fallen asleep after eating his share of the food. Turning over he sat up and looked around. Ahmad's food was still untouched and the shower was running. A quick glance at the wall mount clock told him he'd been asleep for a few hours. “What the!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. How long had Ahmad been in the shower?

Running to the bathroom, he knocked on it loudly. But no answer came. A few more knocks. Still nothing. Finally, he kicked the door open. “Ahmad, are you alright?” he asked, rushing inside. Checking the shower, he saw that Ahmad was not there. A side wall window was wide open, wind blowing fiercely through it.

Gamal looked out through the window. Ahmad was nowhere to be seen.

Where was he, he wondered. What had happened? There was no way he could have left without telling him. Did he get kidnapped? Did the police find him? He was still thinking this when a loud rap sounded on the motel room’s door.

“Police. Open the door or we’ll break in.”

Gamal didn’t know what to do. Where to go. He looked out the window but the leap was too low for him. He’d definitely break a limb if he tried jumping. Just then a loud crashing sound told him the police had broken the door and were inside. Gamal went back to the room. “What can I do for you?”

“We are looking for your friend, Ahmad. Where is he?” said the officer.

“I’m afraid he’s not here. Seems he’s gone out,” Gamal said, trying to quench his fear and anxiety.

The officers surrounded him. “There is only one exit out of this building and he hasn’t been out that way. So either he’s in this room or-“ the officer said.

“or what,” Gamal said, becoming more frightened because of the way they were looking at him.

“What have you done with Ahmad,” inquired an officer.

“Sir, really I do not know where he is. When I woke up he wasn’t in the room. I have no idea where he is.” He told them about the shower and the open window.

“Gamal, we have received a phone call that you murdered Ahmad. You’re under arrest.”

And to Gamal’s worst nightmares,
Gamal watched as an officer put handcuffs on him and started leading him out of the room.

“Really officer, I haven’t done anything.”

“We’ll let you go when we find Ahmad. Until then, you’re staying with us.” An officer said.

***

The thug finally managed to intercept Ahmad's phone call. He listened as Ahmad told his whereabouts to someone and was told that a helicopter would come to get him. After the phone call ended, the head thug made a call to Abu Isaiah and told him what he'd learned.

"Perfect!" Abu Isaiah said before hanging up. "We'll have a surprise for him. I'll let the authorities know."

***
It was late afternoon when Ahmad started back toward the place where the person had told him a helicopter would get him. But something was nagging him. Something telling him how he could trust that person. What if it's a trap? He didn't know who that person was or who had left the phone number. Who'd altered the tickets, making them invalid. What if it was Abu Isaiah's doing?

He thought over it long and hard, his pace getting slower with each passing moment. Until he couldn't get himself to move. He looked round at the buildings and shops, trying to figure out what to do. His eyes landed on a hardware store. Rushing to the store, he asked for a pair of binoculars. "Give me the best you've got," he said to the storekeeper. And in five minutes he'd purchased a pair of handy binoculars, one that let him see from very far distance. He'd been accustomed to using these while he was in the army. Now all he needed to do was sit where no one could see him and he could have a good glimpse of the place where the helicopter was to meet him.


Night fell. And Ahmad waited. For his friend or foe, time would tell. To his dismay, in the less than an hour, the place was filled with police from his country. He had been betrayed. Another setback. Luckily he was far away enough to get away without being detected. Under the cover of the night, Ahmad, quickly started toward the old town, where he'd had breakfast. But he couldn't stay there. He had to get far from here and quickly. Where to go? he wondered. Then he remembered a train station he'd seen not far from here. A sign had said that the next train left at midnight. Ahmad quickly started for that. And in no time, he boarded the train, ticket in hand. In less than fifteen minutes, the whistle sounded and the train started, to a place Ahmad had never heard of. Somewhere on the other side of the country, a map told him bordering China. Ahmad sat back, glad he'd outsmarted his enemies once again, but unsure what the future would bring. His phone beeped, announcing another message. But Ahmad decided not to read it. He would get rid of the phone. It brought only misery so far.
 
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Deep in the suburbs of Cairo, a young man was scurrying amongst feeble shelters and derelict houses. He turned several corners before finally coming to a boarded up house. He looked both ways before opening the basement window hidden behind an overgrown bush. He climbed down into the dusty room, where a second young man was making tea on a little stove.

'Ali! What took you so long?' said Jasem, stirring the pot.

'I... thought I was... being followed,' panted Ali. 'And I got a bit lost.'

'Sit down, the tea's ready,' said Jasem, wiping sweat from his forehead.

'I've got news,' said Ali, pulling out a newspaper. 'Gamal is in jail in a foreign country.'

'What?!' blurted out Jasem.

He took the newspaper and scanned the story. Gamal's picture was unmistakeable. 'Arrested for the murder of one Grigor Thomas?' he read aloud. He could not believe it. They both knew it was utter nonsense.

'We have to get him out,' said Ali.

'You know very well we can't!' said Jasem. 'We're on the run ourselves, with police thinking we were part of the attack on that fortune-teller lady.'

'Yeah but she's getting her memory back, right?'

Jasem sat down and sipped his tea. It was true, there were rumours that Georgi was getting her memory back. Whilst this was good news, it was also dangerous as the people who attacked her might return to make sure she never testified.

'We can't rely on that,' said Jasem. 'That lady is in danger and there's nothing we can do to help her.'

'Let's send him a message at least,' suggested Ali.

'It's too risky using our phones. Besides, there's hardly any reception here anyway.'

'Well we can't stay in this stinking hole surviving on tea and biscuits. We've been here for weeks and... I'm tired of it, Jasem,' cried Ali. 'The rats, the dust, the dark...'

'I know, Ali. Be patient. We'll get out soon, In-sha-Allaah. Here, drink your tea.' But Jasem did not know how soon that would be. He, too, was beginning to break under the weight of their suffering.


***

The dark road seemed endless as Abu Hasan tarried further in the cold. Suddenly, he heard the sound of an engine and turned to see the headlights of a car coming from behind. Could it be his captors looking for him? Terror rose inside him as he looked around for somewhere to hide. The land was flat and barren, and he was already too exhausted to run. He turned away from the road and dived to the ground just as the car rumbled by. Abu Hasan was scared he might have moved too slowly. Now the car came to a halt and Abu Hasan feared the worst. A man's voice called out.

'Hey, you OK?'

Abu Hasan didn't recognise the voice, and looking up, the man seemed alone.

'What you doing out here?' asked the man.

'I was attacked,' said Abu Hasan.

'By whom?'

'I... I don't know. I just need some help...'

There was a pause in which either man sized up the other.

'I'm going to El Asher. If you're going to Cairo, you can catch a bus from there in the morning,' the man finally said.

Abu Hasan was immensely relieved when he could finally sit down in the car and had water to drink. His eyelids felt heavy and though he tried to resist, his surroundings began to blur.


***

Grigor could feel something cold entering his veins as he lay there, unable to escape, in the operating room of a hospital in Israel. The neurosurgeon had put on his surgical gown and gloves, and only his cold eyes appeared above the face mask. Lurking somewhere nearby was the Mossad agent. Would he, too, be involved in the operation? Rows and rows of silver equipment was all he could see as the anaesthetic took effect and the room disappeared.

There was a loud whistle and Ahmed awoke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest. The train began to move again after what must have been a short stop at a station. He checked his bag to make sure everything was still inside, which, thankfully, it was. Villages and farmlands hurtled by outside, but the misty mountains stood firmly in place. Why did these nightmares keep occurring, thought Ahmed. They were getting more and more frequent, as were his black outs.

The train was rather old and shabby, and filled with people. Their voices were drowned by the steady rhythm of the wheels on the track.

'Oh, so you're finally awake!' said a voice next to him.

It was an old woman, smiling at him. Somehow, he hadn't noticed her earlier.

'What's your name?' she asked him.

'My name?' said Ahmed, not wanting to reveal it. 'You can call me Boris,' he said.

'Boris,' repeated the woman. 'That's a nice name. Here, have some cake, Boris.'

Ahmed took the cake but he didn't feel like eating it as he felt travel sick. He got up to find the toilets. Why had he said Boris? He had seen his face so many times in his dreams that it was the only name he could think of. As he squeezed past people toward the end of the carriage, the image of Boris would not leave his mind. It became so strong and clear, that it was as if he were looking at Boris at that very moment. He blinked. He could not believe what he was seeing. It was Boris. The tall, muscular man with straw-coloured hair in an army cut, was coming towards him. Without thinking, Ahmed began to move towards him. Then he suddenly realised that he didn't even remember much about Boris. But it was too late. In a swift movement, Boris caught Ahmed's arm in a strong grip and pushed him in front, a knife pressed against his back.

'Keep moving,' he breathed against his neck.

He forced him into a window seat, where he sat beside him. Ahmed was trapped.
 
'What's going on?' demanded Ahmed.

'You don't have any idea, do you?' said Boris, his voice sounding so familiar.

'About what?'

'About what you've done!' said Boris.

'Look, I don't remember anything,' said Ahmed.

'We were your friends, Ahmed. We looked out for you. We rescued you, saved your back more times than you could count. And then you stabbed us in the back!'

'What did I do?' asked Ahmed.

Boris' face was contorted with anger. 'You betrayed us. You abandoned us!' he spat. 'Decided to live a pure life!' he mocked. 'Even changed your name! And when we needed your help, turned a blind eye. Forgot us, just like that, after all we did!'

The truth was slowly dawning on Ahmed, but it was still a blur. Yes, Boris and Sergei had contacted him again after he left the army. But what was it for?

'Listen, we can sort this out. I'm sorry for - '

'Sorry?!' Boris laughed. 'It's too late. We've made a contract to hunt you down, and down you will go!'

The train began to slow down.

'Get up, we're getting off,' said Boris.

The knife digging into his back again, Ahmed was forced to walk to the door and descend from the train, Boris right behind him. They were walking towards the exit when someone called them. Turning to look, Ahmed jumped in shock as Boris was knocked to the ground after being struck on the head with a hard object.

The assailant grabbed Ahmed and revealed a gun in his belt. 'If you want to live, come with me.'

Ahmed didn't seem to have much of a choice. The two of them sprinted out of the station. They got into a car where a driver was waiting and sped off.

'We didn't expect you to get off here. We have to drive to the next village.'

'Who are you?' asked Ahmed.

'All will become clear, just sit tight.'

After an hour, they arrived at a remote house in the hills. The fresh mountain air was a welcomed change from the cramped train.

Ahmed walked in and found himself face to face with another man from his forgotten past. He looked older and took a moment to recognise, but it was him. Finally, he was meeting with Red Fez.
 
"Hello son," the red fez said. "How are you doing?"

Ahmad nodded. "As good as possible under the current circumstances." As Ahmad stared at the round red face of the man, he started recognizing him. The man in the Red Fez was a friend of his great uncle, someone Ahmad had seen on many occasions when during his brief stay when he was off from boarding school.

"We have heard," said the man in the Red Fez. He motioned for Ahmad to sit. "Gregor, you made a mistake when you skipped bail. we are trying to get your case transferred to military court but it's important you return."

"I can't!" Ahmad said in exasperation. "They'll imprison me."

"They will be lenient if you return voluntarily. Especially if you get back before your next court date."

Ahmad sighed. Shaking his head he said "that's impossible. the military is also against me."

"Not all of them. Seems Boris and Sergie were on the wrong side of the law. You owed them nothing. You were under no compulsion to respond to their calls. It wasn't a military requirement. What they have against you is personal. They have no influence on the outcome of your case."

Ahmad nodded. nothing made sense to him.

"It's up to you," said the man in the Red Fez. "You can go on your way, hide, change your name, and start a new life with a new identity. Or you can try to fix everything by proving your innocence, which you'll have more power over should your case be transferred to military court."

"And if it doesn't?"

"It's highly likely it will. In any case, we are willing to testify on your character at the court."

"I'll think about it." Ahmad said.

"Your next appearance is scheduled for the 18th. Make up your mind before that. We'll get you through the border should you decide to return. One of us will be waiting for you at the border anytime. It's up to you what you want to do now. For now, you can rest in the adjacent room."

Ahmad nodded. He understood the severity of his case but his mind was a mess. Going to the next room, he sat on the bed and tried to think things through. What to do? what step to take? Should he go back to his home country and face trial or should he try to disappear again, something which was getting harder to do with each passing moment. He needed some advice, but who to turn to? Who to ask?

Taking out his phone, he stared at it. Could he call his so-called friends in Egypt and get their opinion? How much could he trust Jasem and Ali? Already Abu Hasan and Gamal had turned out to be traitors, what if the others were too? In the end he decided as long as he was with the men from the military, friends of his great uncle, he was fine. Switching on his phone, he dialed Jasem's number. It was picked up on the first ring. Though the connection was noisy, he could hear him. "Jasem, it's Ahmad."

"Ahmad, where are you. We've been worried. what happened with Gamal?"

"I don't know where Gamal is," Ahmad said.

"We know. He's in jail. he's accused of murdering you."

"What?" Ahmad said. "How can that be? I'm alive."

"-but missing. the newspaper said as long as you aren't found, it's assumed you're dead and Gamal is guilty."

Ahmad shook his head. Was this real? It seemed someone was playing a double role. Was someone trying to put discord between him and his friends and in the process harming them all. "What can I do to help Gamal?" Ahmad wondered out loud.

But he couldn't hear Jasem's response. The connection had become so bad he only heard a roaring noise before the line went dead.

As Ahmad sat there, thinking of what to do, he knew he had to find a way to get Gamal out of jail. But to do that, he had to reveal himself to the authorities, and that came with repercussions that might be too dangerous. Still he knew he couldn't leave Gamal in jail. He had 10 days before he was due in court. Whatever he did, had to be done in that time. And he had to act quick. He had no time to lose.
 
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Rain fell hard against the window as Ahmed lay on the bed, thinking. The key to all this was Georgi, the fortune-teller. If he could find her, she might be able to testify to his innocence if her memory returned. And then he would no longer be wanted by the police. He needed to clear his name, as he couldn't keep running forever. Then it would be easy for Gamal to be released. But his enemies would, no doubt, find new obstacles with which to block his path to his great-uncle's inheritance. He would need to find a way to end that, too. But where to start?

There was a sharp knock on the door.
'Grigor, can I come in?' said Red Fez.
'Yes,' said Ahmed, sitting up.
'I've brought you something to eat. There's also much I need to tell you, but we don't have a great deal of time; it's not safe here.'
He pulled up a chair, took out a cigar and lit it, then looked out of the window as swirls of smoke came out of his mouth. Ahmed began to eat the sandwiches he had been given.
'Do you still have the contents of the package your great-uncle sent you?' asked Red Fez.
Ahmed nodded.
'The plane tickets?'
Ahmed nodded again.
'Good, good. What did the fortune-teller tell you about the map and key?'
'That a... man gave it... to my great-uncle...' said Ahmed, between mouthfuls. 'But he lost the map...'
Red Fez sneered. 'Rubbish! Your grandfather never lost it. He worked tirelessly to decipher that map. His knowledge of ancient egyptian language and history was pivotal in such a task. But he never trusted anyone and pretended he did not know about the map. When he discovered Abu Isaih was looking for it, he took greater measures to hide his research. Around that time he contacted me but it was too late. Abu Isaih had already begun to bring upon your great-uncle's demise. I then profiled this Abu Isaih and learned he works for a powerful figure in Egypt, with many contacts in high places. We are still tracking him down. He is the one who hired Boris and Sergei to stop you at all costs from claiming the inheritance.'
'But how did he know about Boris and Sergei?'
'The fortune-teller, Grigor. You were foolish to fall for her. She is the one who brought you to the attention of her cousin Abu Isaih, who had no idea you existed at the time.'
'Georgi? I don't believe it. I trust her.'
'Very foolish! She is not a fortune-teller and Georgi isn't even her real name. You probably told her everything about your feud with Boris and Sergei. The same information she used against you when you left her.'
'No!' said Ahmed in disbelief. 'She helped me to escape from Egypt...'
'That I don't understand, but you would be wise to keep away from her,' said Red Fez.

Red Fez inhaled deeply on his cigar as Ahmed sat in confusion over what he had just heard.
'Listen to me, Grigor. The plane tickets are the most important item in that package. Your great-uncle told me about it before he died. They are crucial to finding the map and diary, as well as the key.'
'But I already have the map and key,' said Ahmed.
'No, those are decoys. Your uncle knew you would be in danger when he involved you in the estate. Those items would have been stolen from you by now, had your enemies not known they were fakes. Yes, the real items are somewhere in that house, and that is why they are guarding it with full patrol.'
'What's so special about the diary?' asked Ahmed.
'The diary contains the research your great-uncle was working on for years, which will help understand the map. I will help you, Grigor, to get inside the house, but when the time is right. For now, you need to get the police off your back. It will be difficult for my men to help you as a fugitive.'

Ahmed thought about the plane tickets.
'I thought they only contained a phone number?' asked Ahmed.
'Yes, mine,' replied Red Fez. 'But that's not all. Don't worry about that now. Finish your sandwich, we need to leave.'

Ahmed was more confused than ever. When he seemed to be coming close to answers, he was dragged further away. Could he trust Georgi? Maybe she had changed since then, or else why would she help him back in Egypt?

'Are you ready for us to go to Cairo?' asked Red Fez.
'Yes,' replied Ahmed. Going to Cairo seemed the only way forward. If he was going to let Red Fez deal with the prison sentence, it would have to be done there. But more importantly, he wanted to find Georgi and get answers. Get her to testify his innocence. He had to try.

'There is one more thing, Grigor,' said Red Fez, as they stood on the porch, about to run over to the helicopter in the pouring rain. 'The fortune-teller seems to have made an amulet, some kind of stone. One of my men found a message from Abu Isaih, requesting her to make it. That is responsible for weakening your mind and making it easier for your enemies to get to you. It must be destroyed...'
'Where is it?' asked Ahmed.
'I found it on you in the hospital when I came to visit you,' said Red Fez. 'But now it is with one of your friends.'
 
i am awe struck by the raw talent here :ma: (you can delete this post but had no idea where else to write this) just brilliant.. it should be the theme for a movie :ma: :D
 
As Ahmad prepared to leave, his mind couldn't get off Georgi and what the Red Fez had revealed to him. Why would she help him leave Egypt if she was involved? and then it struck him. She'd given him his package and plane tickets but the plane was going the wrong way. She'd deliberately put him on the wrong plane! Ahmad shuddered at the thought. He realized this woman could do a lot of damage. He had to warn his friends. Had to let them know not to trust her.
 
The calls to prayer echoed through the streets of Cairo at sunset. In one of the narrow streets, a hooded man knocked on the door.

'Who are you and what do you want?' came a woman's voice from inside.
'It's me, Ali. Please, I mean no harm. We need your help,' said Ali. He was relieved to have found the right house and that Georgi was at home.

There was silence for a minute, then the sound of locks being opened and the door opened slightly with the chain fastened against the wall.

'I can't help you, I've already done all I can,' said Georgi.
'Please', said Ali.
'How did you find me?' Georgi asked.
'A man in the market said he knew where you lived. I saw him talking to you last time I saw you.'
'The tent manager? He's gonna get me killed, telling everybody where I live!' cried Georgi.
'It was difficult persuading him. I said you knew me and I even ran an errand for him,' said Ali. 'Please, let me inside before someone sees me, I'm a wanted person.'
'That makes two of us,' muttered Georgi, as she opened the door to let Ali in and quickly locked it behind him.
'Jasem'll kill me if he finds out I came to see you,' said Ali.

He looked around. The place was small, dingy and near-empty, with a couple of bags by the side. Georgi was clearly about to leave.

'I only came by here to collect a few things,' said Georgi. 'You're lucky you found me. And I'm lucky you're not them.'
'Who?' asked Ali.
'The men Abu Isaih works for.'
'What do they want with you?'
'They know I helped Ahmed escape from Egypt. They're worried I'll testify to his innocence. They want me dead. I have to get away from here... You don't know my cousin...'
'Please, come with me, we can find a solution,' said Ali. 'You have to testify that it wasn't us who attacked you. The police are after all of us now!'
'If I go to the police, they'll get to me first,' said Georgi. 'Why do you think I faked amnesia? That bought me some time but good thing I ran away from hospital. They had their men prowling around in case I came to my senses.'

Georgi began shoving some clothes into a bulging bag.

'Look, me and Jasem will go with you,' persisted Ali.
'No! Nothing will make any difference. They're probably looking for you, too. Get away while you still can.'

Ali was getting desperate. Without Georgi, how would they prove their innocence? He watched as she scrambled together the last few items lying around and put them into a rucksack which she flung onto her back.

Suddenly, she froze, then beckoned Ali to be quiet. Footsteps could be heard scraping against the dusty ground outside the front door. The two of them were glued to the spot as they stared at each other in terror. They could hear someone attempt to pick the lock. Georgi pointed to a room adjacent to theirs, and as quietly as possible, they moved towards it. Georgi glanced towards the bags on the floor, but Ali gestured her to leave them.

As they entered the tiny kitchen, dark shadows flitted across the window. Georgi put her arm out to signal turning back. As they headed for the stairs, the front door came crashing open, but they didn't wait to get a glimpse of who it was. A window in the kitchen smashed. They scurried up the steps then burst out onto the open, flat roof and raced across, jumping over into the next house. The whole street was connected in this way. Ducking beneath clothes on washing lines and jumping over obstacles, they kept going as long as they could. Somewhere down below, a car was moving on the road, perhaps trying to follow.

The building in the next street was slightly lower, so they managed to leap across and tumbled on its hard floor where they lay low, gasping for breath, trying to listen for the sounds of their pursuers. Ali looked around but it was hard to see very far beyond all the banners and various things draped across the streets.

A door opened from somewhere behind them and a man stepped out, emptied a dish of crumbs and returned, without seeing them. They got up and found the door still unlocked, so descended the stairs and found themselves in a bustling coffee shop. They sat at a table, not knowing what to do. Georgi was still shivering in shock.

'What am I going to do?' she was saying to herself.
'Listen, me and Jasem are hiding in the suburbs. Come and stay there, it'll be safer.'

Georgi shook her head. 'I'm going to stay with a friend in Romania. I've already booked the tickets. I leave in two days.'
'Where are you planning on staying till then?'
'A hotel far from here.'

They kept looking over their shoulders anxiously. Georgi pulled a scarf out of her bag and wrapped it around her head.

'Ali, listen. There's something I forgot to tell Ahmed,' said Georgi. 'There's an amulet, looks like a stone with weird writing... you have to find it and destroy it.'
'Amulet? What do you mean?'
'Just find it, Ali. It's designed to harm Ahmed, and you have to help him get rid of it.'
She shook her head and sighed, muttering things to herself.

Ali's eyes widened as he spotted someone enter the shop, looking around suspiciously. 'Georgi! They're here!' he hissed.
Georgi spun round, then told Ali to get under the table, its cloth drooping to floor level. She bent her head and covered it with the menu.
'We have to get out of here!' she whispered to him.
'Sit tight!' he whispered back.

Ali could hear his heart thumping as he listened under the table for feet coming towards their table.
Seconds painfully went by as he tried to think of what to do next.
'Georgi?' he whispered.
No reply.
He said her name louder, but no reply.

He lifted up the table cloth where she had been sitting and found, to his astonishment, that she had gone.
 

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