24991125 | 1008
Old Cairo River Bazaar | Misr al-Qadima | Free City of Cairo
30°00′33″ N
31°14′20″ E
“Is he going to show?”
“Give him ten minutes.”
“That’s what you said ten minutes ago.”
“He’ll be here.” Viper said.
Cobra sighed.
He massaged the bridge of his nose.
It was then his comm crackled.
Boss, come in.
It was Boa.
“I’m here. What is it?”
A pause.
A moment of silence.
Hesitant silence.
Could you like… pick something up on the way back?
Cobra closed his eyes for half a second.
“Are you guys for real?” he hissed.
Viper grinned without looking at him.
I’m hungry, boss.
Been going on slop for days.
Cobra exhaled.
He rose, slow and unhurried.
He spent a minute stretching stiffness out of his shoulders and joints.
Another errand in a long morning of nothing.
He adjusted his jacket, checked his watch.
Then glanced once more toward the café.
“Go, I’ll handle this end.” Viper said.
“You sure?”
“No risk,” Viper said dismissively, “I know the guy.”
“Alright, I will just be a minute.”
“Maybe get us a couple of donuts, or bagels. We haven’t had breakfast yet.”
He had a point.
Cobra felt the hunger then.
Across the river.
Morning light spilled over white stone and glass.
The café was already filling up.
People were sitting down.
Cups were being placed.
Cobra tapped the comm once.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
Viper nodded, already settling deeper into his chair.
His eyes back on the street.
Cobra stepped off the curb and toward the bridge.
Thirty meters of water.
One crossing.
One coffee.
He strode into the crowd.
He strode past people going about their day.
The press of the crowd.
He sidestepped those took slower strides.
Office workers.
Laborers.
Tourists.
A male bodybuilder and his model girlfriend.
She was grumbling about something.
But the male…
Cobra felt something about him.
The stench of gunpowder and steel.
There’s more.
The tinge of blood and violence.
He turned his head then.
He bumped into someone.
An audible chatter.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
He quickly snapped back to the front.
A beauty in white sundress and a scarf.
She was holding a purse.
Storm-grey eyes.
The impact jarred her phone out of her hand.
“Sorry.” They said together.
He spotted her phone among the shuffle of feet.
He deftly snatched it up.
He stood up.
The woman regarded him.
He held up her phone.
“Thank you,” she said, mildly distracted.
“Don’t mention it.” He said, turning to go.
“Wait.” She called out.
He turned around.
“Are you… an American?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, on edge.
There was something about her.
“I could not place your accent,” she continued. “City 01?”
“Yes, New Yorker by birth.” He smiled disarmingly, “I travelled, a lot. Hardly home.”
“Yes, Cairo is nice this time around.”
She said, moving closer.
“I’m Shirley.” She said, extending a hand, “Shirley Tempess. City 01.”
“James.” He said, a little too quickly.
“Nice to meet you, James.” She smiled, “see you around.”
He nodded, smiled and walked away.
24991125 | 1013
Safehouse Zero | Wadi Fringe | Eastern Nile Desert
30°12′06″ N
31°00′28″ E
Boa and Python exchanged looks.
She blinked first.
“Did I heard right?” she whispered.
Python nodded.
“The Shirley Tempess?” Boa repeated in disbelief, “the heiress? The socialite?”
“EVECorp’s It Girl.”
“Did he just…” Boa began.
“… told Shirley Tempess his real name?”
“Yeah,” Python said softly.
24991125 | 1015
Old Cairo River Bazaar | Misr al-Qadima | Free City of Cairo
30°00′33″ N
31°14′20″ E
“Here it is.” Kurt said.
Illeana fell in next to him.
Harrington & Blythe Waterworks.
She took a look around.
Two men seated outside an unnamed watering hole.
The smell of blood and scent of freshly-butchered meat.
A man seated beside an antique analogue radio.
She crinkled her nose.
“Let’s go,” Kurt said.
Illeana did not argue.
“Let’s. We stuck out like a sore thumb.” She said.
They ascended the stairs.
A wooden door with a glass pane.
Harrington & Blythe Waterworks.
Tier-1 Infrastructure Consultants.
128 Al-Nil al-Far‘i Canal Ring Road.
Misr al-Qadima, Free City of Cairo.
Kurt pushed against the door.
A soft chime.
An elderly lady sat at the reception.
Watching old streams on her tablet.
“Yes?” she looked up without preamble.
“We’d like to see Charles Harrington and William Blythe.” Kurt said.
“Are you the police?” the lady asked.
“No.”
“Then come back when you have an appointment.” She turned back to her holo.
“We are – “
Illeana clipped Kurt on the elbow.
“Let me handle this,” she said softly.
She produced a sharp card from her purse.
Crisp, polished, almost steel.
Illeana placed her name card before the receptionist.
“Please inform Charles and William that Mr Kurt Blade and Ms Illeana Frost from EVECorp Paris branch would like to meet them.”
The lady took the card.
She took a cursory glance.
Her eyes widened.
“Please have a seat,” her tone changed.
Courteous. Polite.
Fearful.
She disappeared into the door behind her.
Kurt looked at her.
“What? You planning to shoot her?” Illeana asked, incredulous.
“Mr Blade, Ms Frost.” A voice said.
An elderly gentleman stood before the office door.
“I am Charles Harrington,” the man spoke in his crisp, native accent.
“What can I do for you?”
“Mr Harrington.” Illeana said.
“May we come in?”
“Yes, of course,” Charles said, holding the door ajar.
Kurt and Illeana filed into the office proper.
“Elizabeth,” Charles called, “coffee.”
“Black,” Kurt said simply.
“Milk and sugar for me, please.” Illeana said.
Charles led them to the meeting room.
The window accorded them a view of the Nile.
“Please, have a seat.” Charles said.
“We won’t keep you too long, Mr Harrington.” Illeana said.
“Charles, please.” He waved dismissively.
“We are in need of your services.” Kurt said.
Elizabeth arrived with coffee.
Illeana accepted hers with a nod of thanks.
Kurt took a sip.
“What can I do for you?” Charles asked, bracing himself.
“Aquifer” Illeana said.
Charles leaned back in his seat.
“What do you need?”
“Access.” Kurt said.
“Specifically, the Water Treatment wing.” Illeana added.
Charles nodded.
“When?”
“Tonight.” Kurt said, “For forty-eight hours.”
Charles sucked in his breath.
“I will see what I can do,” he said softly.
Kurt nodded.
He drained his coffee and stood up.
Illeana nodded her thanks and caught up to Kurt briskly.
Charles glanced at her coffee, untouched.
Her crisp name card still before him.
Illeana Frost.
Enforcer | Class I.
Paris Branch.
24991125 | 1022
Old Cairo River Bazaar | Misr al-Qadima | Free City of Cairo
30°00′33″ N
31°14′20″ E
He tossed his shades on the table.
He propped the paper bag in front of him.
Viper reached for the bag.
Tore it open without preamble.
He stuffed a bagel into his mouth.
Cobra propped himself back into his seat.
“Slow down.” He said.
Viper gave him a look.
Cobra stirred, but no sudden move.
Viper light tapped his collar.
Their comms.
He clicked his comm off.
Viper didn’t speak.
He took another bite out of the bun.
Cobra saw his hand signal behind the bagel.
Two.
He remained still. non-chalance.
He sensed two figures drifted behind him.
He didn’t turn around.
He didn’t look.
He took his phone and tapped away.
Viper finished his bagel.
His fingers flashed in Morse.
Clear.
Cobra let out a breath.
“We done?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Viper said, patting his pocket discreetly.
Cobra grabbed the remaining bagel.
Now it’s his turn to chomp down on the bagel.
Viper leaned in then.
“What was that?” he asked softly.
“What?” Cobra asked, uncomprehending.
“Back there.” Viper hissed.
Cobra still didn’t get him.
Viper tapped his comm.
Realization struck him.
He reached for it instinctively.
“Squad channel, closed circuit.” Viper said, dismissively.
Cobra let out a breath.
Then he caught himself mid-exhale.
No.
He buried his face in his palm.
“They heard?” He asked softly.
The corner of Viper’s lips curled slightly.
“I’m ain’t judging, chief.” he said, leaning back.
His lips still curled.
Cobra sighed.
He clicked his comm back on.
Boss.
Python.
Come in, chief.
“Yes.” Cobra braced himself.
Chief… did you just give your name to EVECorp’s cover girl?
Didn’t know she was your type.
Boa.
Ain’t she a little… above your paygrade?
Cobra could almost see it.
That infuriating smile she had on.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
You never called me by my real name.
He clicked the comm off at Boa’s cat call.
Across the table, Viper was struggling really hard not to laugh.
“Not a word.” Cobra growled.
24991125 | 1103
Café al-Nilayn | Misr al-Qadima | Free City of Cairo
30°00′33″ N
31°14′20″ E
The soft clink of silverware did not stir her from her thoughts.
She kept stirring her coffee.
Lost in thought.
A staffer approached her to enquire if she needed anything.
She smiled and shook her head.
American.
New York.
James.
A staffer said she’d seen him in here a couple of minutes ago.
That he grabbed something and left in a hurry.
Shirley regarded the crowd outside.
She couldn’t place it, the feeling within her.
The tinge of gunpowder and steel.
The scent of violence and blood.
Clung to him as a second skin.
Her thoughts drifted back.
The first city to be brought by EVECorp.
First Manhattan.
Then New York.
Designation: City 01.
James.
24991125 | 1112
Old Cairo River Bazaar | Misr al-Qadima | Free City of Cairo
30°00′33″ N
31°14′20″ E
They climbed back into the jeep.
Cobra started the engine.
They backed out of the alley.
“Hold up, chief.” Viper called out.
“What now?” Cobra said.
Viper eyed the butcher.
“I think we are forgetting something.”
