I am trying to get the complete story uploaded, but unfortunately, the internet is not cooperating. Here's a bit of the next installment until I get it sorted out. Sorry about all the hold-ups and delays - once I get this running it should be a fair bit smoother.
Triumphant Sun, Pt. 12In some, the men simply conversed among each other; in others, they inspected crates, containers, even a stack of rifles. In isolation, they proved nothing. But with the framework he had begun to perceive from his conversation with Fuad, they might be a definitive step forward. Unfortunately they were also adrift, lacking reference; though the 'what' was clear, the 'who, where, when' remained absent.
Said had dropped them in his lap and then promptly vanished, in an extremely perplexing and even slightly worrying fashion. The man had an angle, of that there was no doubt. But again, it lay in a vacuum, disconnected from everything else. He threw open the doors of the balcony to let air into the stuffy room, seated himself with a notepad on a plastic chair and began to sketch out his ideas on the pad.
In one corner, Said. In another, Fuad's subtle hints. The photos in the center, a strong line linking them to the Iranian and a weak, dashed one to the Afghan. General Abdel-Kareem went on too, with another strong line to the photographs. After some thought he put Carlos on the edge – with his fingers in every pie in city, he had a tendency to crop up in the most unexpected places.
His glass of coffee had reached the bitter dregs, swirling in the bottom. He peered into the cup, wondering if there was another sip there, but decided against it. In the kitchen, he found that he'd forgotten, yet again, to stock the refrigerator with anything for breakfast.
For a moment he leaned against the door, forehead braced on his arm, mentally berating himself. Then he grabbed a handful of Egpytian pounds, snagged his keys and headed out and down the street to grab a plate of fuul and a pastry at a local dive.