Scorpia Rising

know him. I’ve worked with him twice in the past. You can trust him.”
    The use of his first name signaled something to the Egyptian head of security. He nodded slowly, then turned back to Alex, examining him more carefully. “We found a dead man in an outside broadcast van,” he said.
    Alex nodded. “That was Erik Gunter. He was part of it. He was the head of security at Cairo College. But he was also working for Scorpia.”
    “He was stung by a scorpion.”
    “That’s right.” Alex didn’t offer any explanation.
    Byrne leaned forward. “Tell me,” he said. “Where can we find this man . . . Razim?”
    “I’ll tell you that,” Alex said. “But there’s a condition. I want to come with you when you take him out.”
    Manzour shook his head. “Out of the question. I have men who are experienced in this sort of thing. Unit Triple Seven. They do not need your help.” Unit 777 was the Egyptian counterterrorism and special operations unit. It had gotten its name from the year it was founded—1977. It was based in southern Cairo.
    “I think you’ve done enough, Alex,” Byrne agreed. “You can leave this to us.”
    Alex shook his head. “Razim is in a fort near the town of Siwa,” he said. “And he has enough firepower to hold back an army. He’s put mines in the sand all around him so even if your men are experienced, they’ll be blown to pieces before they get anywhere near. Razim boasted to me about radar warning systems and surface-to-air missiles. Do you really want to get into a fight with him? If you let me help you, you won’t have to.”
    Neither man spoke, so Alex went on.
    “There’s a helicopter waiting to take Julius Grief back to the fort. I can show you where it is and you’ll be able to hide twelve of your men inside. If we move fast enough, we might be able to catch Razim before he’s heard what happened here tonight. I can walk right in. He’ll think I’m Julius.”
    “And then?” Manzour was suddenly interested.
    “Your men wait in the helicopter. There’s a central control room. If I can get in there, I can disable all the machinery in the fort. No power. No missiles. No mines. Then you attack. He still has about twenty or thirty guards, but you’ll take them by surprise.”
    “Everything depends upon your being able to reach this control room,” Manzour said.
    “It’s in an old bakery. I noticed it when I was there. That’s the weak spot.”
    There was a brief silence, then Byrne nodded. “He’s right,” he said. “The question is—is it too late for a news blackout?”
    “The television stations have already broadcast that an attempt was made on the life of your secretary of state,” Manzour replied. “But they have not reported if it was successful. I can make sure that they say nothing more tonight. That would give you the time you need.”
    “So it’s agreed?”
    There was a movement at the door and the officer whom Manzour had sent out returned, chattering excitedly in Arabic. He was staring at Alex as if he had just seen a ghost. Manzour nodded and dismissed him. “It’s true about the other boy,” he said. “He’s an exact duplicate . . . apart from the bullet hole in his head.”
    Alex shrugged.
    Manzour glanced at Byrne. “What do you think?”
    “A joint American-Egyptian operation. It’s your country, but it was our politician. Six of your men. Six of mine. Plus Alex, of course.”
    “I agree. But we must move quickly.”
    Byrne reached out and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder. He had to know. “What did Razim do to you, Alex?” he asked.
    He felt Alex flinch, as if the contact was painful to him. He didn’t answer Byrne’s question. “Razim has an interest in pain,” he said. “I think it’s time he experienced some.” He stood up. “We shouldn’t be sitting here talking. We should be on our way. And there is one other thing.
    “This time, I want a gun.”

    The Sikorsky H-34 was waiting exactly where Alex had said it would be, sitting in the darkness beside a half-built office block. The pilot didn’t even see them coming. One moment he was sitting in the cockpit, waiting for Erik Gunter and Julius Grief, the next he had been dragged out and found himself spread-eagled on the rubble with a gun pressed into the back of his neck.
    A signal was given and four jeeps pulled in. Alex was in the first, sitting next to Joe Byrne. There were a dozen men behind them—all dressed in desert khakis and combat boots and