The morning sun bathed the pool of the Holiday Inn Seaside in its brilliant light.  Collette was sitting in a lounge chair waiting for her mysterious contact.  Upstairs, Mark was bound tightly to one of the twin beds that adorned their room.  He was gagged with a moistened washcloth and a strip of an old towel.  He would not get away.  She had been relaxing for fifty minutes before a boy of no more than ten or twelve approached her.

    "Madame Collette?"

    Collette looked at him and said, "oui."

    He handed her a sealed envelope and said in French, "this is for you."

    Collette took the envelope and said, "merci."  She looked down at the envelope, not seeing any writing on its crisp, white facade.  She looked up at the young boy to see that he had disappeared. She reasoned that he had been warned about her and had simply decided that there was safety in distance.  No matter.  Collette opened the envelope and pulled a yellow piece of paper from the envelope. 

    The words were written in the same style as the note that had been left in her train cabin.  Collette read the note and shook her head.  She reread the note and softly folded the note and placed the letter back into the envelope.  She was going to Egypt it seemed to track down an American businessman that had acquired a portable nuclear device.  She did not know what that man had to do with Tress or Kilandra, but her goal was clear.  She needed to retrieve the weapon and if the letter was to be trusted, kill the businessman.

    Now, what about Mark?  The note had not said what to do with Mark but she knew that he was her charge until  such time that Graham was returned to her.  She exhaled, she would have to bring Mark with her. 

    She folded the envelope and spirited it into her purse.  She climbed to her feet and shaking her head entered the hotel.  She returned to her room and quickly unbound Mark.  "We're going to Egypt," she said. 

    "We?"

    "Yes, we.  Let's go."

    Theyleft the room, Mark hobbling on his freshly splinted leg.  Collette hailed a taxi and when the driver stopped she told him in French to take them to the airport.  The taxi sped away and thirty minutes later Collette had two first-class tickets to Egypt.  They were seated and served drinks and an hour and a half after Collette had read Tress's note, they were airborne, flying over the Mediterranean Sea and heading towards Egypt.

    The captain kept them informed and by the time Collette finished her third drink they were descending into Cairo.  Collette read the note again.  Her target worked across the street from the Museum of Cairo, if Tress's note was to be believed.  She would find a close hotel and then search for Geoffrey Green.

    They landed and taxied to the gate. 

    They deplaned and, after customs, Collette hailed another taxi.  She spoke Arabic and the two of them were delivered to a small hotel three buildings down from the Museum of Cairo.

    Collette checked the two of them into the room and had Mark sit on the bed.  He sat and looked at her with interest.  "What?"  He could tell she wanted to talk to him.

    "I don't want to have to tie you to the bed."

    Mark was in agreement, "I don't want to be tied to the bed."

    "So, what are we going to do about it?  I don't think I could trust you alone, and  I can't let you leave."

    "I have an equal stake in this," Mark said.  "Tress sent me to you to begin with.  I know what you are capable of and I want to go back to her."

    "Precisely."

    Mark continued, "let me help you." He looked at his damaged leg and said, "as best as I can.  I can play the tourist for a stakeout.  Just don't bind me to the bed.  Please."

     Collette debated; she knew the wise course of action would be to tie Mark to the bed and leave him alone while she did what she needed to do.  However, an extra set of eyes could prove useful.  And, what if Mark was able to break free from his bonds or an overzealous hotel employee ignored the "do not disturb" sign that would be hanging on the door. She would risk it.  "Okay.  You will do what I say or I will tie you to the bed and leave you there while I am gone.  Understood?"

    Mark nodded, "thank you.  What do you want me to do?"

    Collette explained that they would be looking for an American named Geoffrey Green and that he worked near the Museum of Cairo.  Today, she explained, we will tour the museum, look at the relics of King Tut, but keep their eyes and ears open.  Linger by businessmen and eavesdrop, look for any sign of their quarry.  He worked across from the museum, Collette told Mark, but logic dictated that he would visit the museum or any of his associates would.  It was to be an  inconspicuous start.

    "Okay," Mark said.

   * * * * *

   It took three days of touring the museum before luck appeared in the form of Geoffrey Green touring the museum while eating lunch.  He appeared with some associates and they were talking loudly, oblivious to their surroundings.  Collette knew that people were self-absorbed; never paying attention to others around them.  People were only interested in themselves.  Geoff was talking about his impending meeting with "the fucking Arabs" and about his "profitable venture."  He was the one she was seeking.

    Collette watched him.  He was tall and thin and balding.  His hair, what little there was of it, was salt and pepper gray and uncombed.  He didn't seem to mind how he looked. His eyes were small and tight together, his lips thin.  He had a bad habit of continually licking his lips and Collette thought he looked like a small lizard.  He had an aura of deceit around him; he was definitely an evil man. 

    Collette watched him and followed him; looking with half and eye at the exhibits of the museum while listening intently to Geoffrey talking about his luck and his intelligence.  He was full of himself, boastful.  "I'm about to retire!" He exclaimed.  "Money rolling in.  Big time!"

    His associates seemed to know what he was talking about and they remained mostly silent; merely muttering an occasional grunt of assent or dissent. 

    Collette brushed past him, said, "excuse me," and stepped away. 

    She turned away, satisfied with the bug she had just planted.

    * * * * *

   "I don't care what Alan said," Collette heard through the tiny speaker sitting on the table in front of her.  "I have got to make that meeting."

    After a bit of silence, Collette heard, "fine, fine.  Tell them I'll be there tomorrow at six but that I can't stay long.  I have to meet at the Tutankhamen exhibit at eight and the museum closes at nine.  I do not have much of a window.  I have got to get rid of this package, it makes me uncomfortable."

    More silence.

    "Fine, fine.  I'll be there." A sound of a phone hanging up followed.  Collette kept listening and finally heard, "I'll be glad to get rid of that damned bomb."  He sounded strangely calm.  "And I can't wait to get paid."

    The sounds that came next were unimportant.  Collette knew that her quarry was meeting the next evening between eight and nine at the museum and that he would be making the exchange for the bomb.  She, with Mark's help, would make her move then. 

    She began to plan.

* * * * *

   The museum was mostly empty.  Collette was wearing a T-shirt that read, "Tut is King!" that she had bought from the museum's gift shop as well as a pair of dark blue shorts.  She had a New York Yankees baseball cap on her head with a lone pony tail pulled through the back strap of the cap.  She looked like the tourist, which was her plan.  She was eyeing the exhibits of King Tut, but her attention was securely focused on Geoffrey Green. 

    He was talking to two men, one kept silent, the other was an agitated man with little hair and a thin goatee.  He was speaking in German and Collette was listening intently.

    "Three hundred million dollars," the German speaking man said.  "That's the final offer."

    Geoff seemed deep in thought and finally said, also in German, "I accept."  He was nodding.  He hefted an obviously heavy briefcase and said, "here is the package."

    Bingo, Collette thought.

    The silent man took the package from Geoff and said, also in German, "here is your payment."

    A flash went off and a muted whoosh of air as the silent man fired a silenced pistol into Geoff's stomach.  Geoff grunted and fell forward.  In English, the first man said, "are you okay?  Lunch not agreeing with you?"  It was obviously a ruse and Collette played along.  She looked at the two men who were holding Graham as if he was merely cluthing his stomach from an intestinal cramp.

    "Is he okay?" Collette asked.  "Should I get a guard?"  English spoken.

    "No. No," the speaking man said, "just his lunch disagreeing with him.  He will be okay," he replied in English.

    Collette nodded, "okay."  And she turned back to the Tut exhibit.  From her waistband she pulled a pistol, the weight of it feeling good in her hand.  Her muscles were taut, poised to strike.

    Thefirst part of her mission was accomplished, thanks to her two unknowing accomplices, Geoff was dead; now all she needed was to acquire the nuclear device and get it out of the country.  She stepped away from the Tut exhibit and felt her skin crawl.  She dropped.  A loud explosion erupted from above her as a bullet struck a glass container; small slivers of glass fell noisily to the ground.  Pieces of glass landed in her hair. 

    An alarm sounded; a precaution against theft of the historic and priceless Museum exhibits. 

    Collette rolled to her side and jumped to her feet.  She crouched behind a wooden beam and listened for the sounds of the two men.  She heard one ask, in German, "did you get her?"

    "No," the second man said.

    "You certain?"

    Collette remained silent, listening.  She deduced where the second man was standing and when he spoke his affirmation, Collette stood, fired a single, silent bullet, and then somersaulted away.

    The second man grabbed his throat, fell forward with a loud thump.  Blood oozed from between his fingers and silently, he died. 

    Collette kept low, straining to hear the first man, the one holding the package that she needed.  With the alarm sounding its incessant shrill cry, she could not hear where the man was or what he was doing. 

    The first man picked up the briefcase and keeping his eyes on where the woman had appeared like the plastic animal in a Whack-A-Mole game, popping up from behind a wooden beam and then disappearing just as quickly.  He kept his eyes locked on where he expected her to be and then quickly he ran from the room.  The alarm would bring guards and with the guards, questions.  He did not want any questions.  Besides, he had what he came for and it didn't cost him anything.  He sprinted from the room.

    Collette listened, hear nothing but the alarm.  She peered cautiously around a corner; the room was empty. "Fuck!" she exclaimed.  She returned her gun to the waistband of her shorts and climbed to her feet.  Fifteen seconds later a voice called out behind her, "don't move!"  She slowly spun around and saw two museum guards, both of them pointing weapons at her. 

    Collette remained perfectly still.   With practiced ease she said, "they shot that man."  She said in well-feigned hysteria.  She pointed at the dead man lying face down on the marble floor. 

    The guards looked confused and then one said, "are you okay, ma'am?"

    "Do I look okay!" she said in her fake hysterics.  "They SHOT a man."

    "Did you see them?"

    Yes, she thought, "not really.  I was hiding behind that stanchion." She pointed to where she had been crouched. 

    "Sorry, ma'am," the guard said.  "We will have to ask you a few questions, but then you will be free to go."

    Collette wiped away fake tears, "t...t...thank you," she stammered.  Acting has saved her skin on more than one occasion.  It was simple, really; people wanted to believe what other's told to them.

   The guard that had been silent stepped towards her and said, "follow me, ma'am."

    Collette followed the guard to a small, messy office.  Two desks sat facing each other; covered with countless scraps of paper.  Collette was directed to sit in a small, plastic chair.  She took her seat and spent thirty minutes answering the questions of the guard.  Most of the answers were "I don't know," or "no idea."  She lied about what her newest quarry looked like; changing his height and weight and hair color with ease.  When the questions were finished the guard thanked her, asked her where she was staying, and then sent her on her way.

    Collette left the museum and made her way back to her room.  Mark was there, waiting for her.  He explained how he had heard the altercation and had quickly snuck away.  Collette said that that was wise and left it at that.  She sat on the bed, wondering about her new prey.

* * * * *

    A picture was frozen on the T.V. screen.  It was Collette, pointing a gun with a bright light indicating that she had just fired the pistol.  "Why did she lie?"

    A tall man with a thick goatee stood staring at the screen.  The video surveillance tape clearly showed what had transpired, and it clearly showed that Collette had lied about being just an innocent bystander; she was a major component of the gunplay that had taken place in the museum.  He shook his head and said, "I don't know.  Where did she say she was staying?"

    "Across the street."

    "Leave her to me.  Do you know who that other man is?" 

    "His name is Alan Charnell.  Not a nice guy.  He has been in and out of jail most of his life.  He has worked for most criminal organizations at one time or another.  There is always a warrant out for his arrest.  He is bad news."

    Nodding, Frank Majors, the man with the thick goatee and the piercing green eyes said, "print out a picture of both of them."

    "Yes, sir."   The pictures were printed and handed to Frank.  "Here you go, sir."

    Frank took the pictures.  "Thank you. I am going to cross the street and pay a little visit to our mystery woman."

    Thesecond man said, "be careful," he looked at the video surveillance tape again and continued, "she looks dangerous."

    Frank agreed, "yes.  I'll be careful."  Frank left the room and left the museum.  The heat of the Egyptian day rose from the pavement in lazy rivulets of dancing air.  Sweat beaded up on his forehead and he absently wiped his shirt cuff across his brow.  He crossed the street and made his way to Collette's hotel.  He approached the desk and showed the young boy behind the counter Collette's picture, "what room is this woman in?"

    The boy shook his head, "I can't tell you that, sir.  We respect the privacy of our guests."  The boy was about seventeen and quite confident in his tone. 

    Frank pulled his detective badge from his shirt pocket and flashed it to the boy, "perhaps you didn't hear me?"

    The boy looked at the badge and said, "she's in room 2112.  She is staying there with a man."

    "Thank you for your help."  Frank left the desk and made his way to the elevator.

    Franktook the elevator to the twenty-first floor.  He exited the elevator and followed the signs that led him to Collette's room.  He knocked, three soft raps.  "Concierge," he said.

    He heard movement behind the door.  The woman he was seeking opened the door, "yes?"

     "Miss," he said, "I need to ask you a few questions."

    Collette stepped aside, "of course.  Come in."

   Frank hesitated, he did not expect to be welcomed.  His hackles were enflamed, something was not right.  "I'll stay right here," he said cautiously.  "But I do have some questions."

    Collette looked at him quizzically, "yes?"  She too was being cautious.

    "I saw you in the museum," he said.  He bit his lower lip and said, "I saw what you did to that man." 

    "What man?" Coyly.

    Franklooked at her with distrust, he knew she knew what he saw.  What game was she playing?  "The man you shot."

    Collette's face did not change, "I don't know what you are talking about.  Shot?  What man?  Who are you?"  Her tone changed to one of shock.  "Get out.  I'll call the concierge."

    Mark stepped from around the corner and said, "are you okay, dear?"

    Frank's face lit up in surprise; he did not realize she was not alone.  He had not seen her accomplis on the video tape.  The man had been no where to be seen. 

    Collette turned to look at Mark briefly and said, "it's okay, darling.  This man has mistaken me for somebody else, I suppose.  He was just leaving."  She turned back to Frank, "weren't you?"

    Frank glared at her and said, "yes, my mistake.  Sorry to bother you, ma'am."  He turned away and heard the door click shut behind him.

    He stood staring at the shut door; she was good.  Her face had not even changed when he mentioned that he knew that she had shot a man.  She had just stood there stoically and straight-faced.  He knew that she was guilty and she knew he knew; he did not like the feeling.  He suddenly felt hunted.  "Shit," he exhaled.

    He spun away and made his way to the lobby.  He would wait for her and follow her.  She had obviously wanted that briefcase and since she did not get her prize, her trip was incomplete.  He would follow her and find out what was going on.  He sat.  He waited.  Soon, he napped.

* * * * *

    "Dear?"  

    "It worked, didn't it," Mark said defensively. 

    Collette had to laugh, "it sure did."  She exhaled and bit her lower lip, "now what am I going to do?"

    Mark said nothing, he knew the question was not directed at him.

   She knew that she had been witnessed at the museum; video surveillance most likely, she mused.  This man, Frank, was a museum employee, she figured and that was good.  The local authorities had not been brought in.  Her tongue slid over her lips as she pondered what to do with Frank.  An idea began to form.  She looked at Mark who had been eyeing her quizzically and said, "wait here.  I'm going to go get another ally."

    Mark's eyes widened in unison, his eyebrows rising,  "is that wise?"

    "I believe he works for the museum.  I do not want him contacting the local police.  He is a local and may be able to help us find the briefcase."

    Mark nodded, "You're the boss."

    Collette liked the sound of that, but said nothing.  She left the room and made her way downstairs.  If her reasoning was sound, Frank would be waiting for her in the lobby.  Arriving in the lobby, she found that she was not disappointed.  "Frank she said," her hand extended in greeting, "so glad you waited."

    Frank climbed to his feet and shook her hand.

    "You knew?"

   Collette chucked, "of course I knew.  I've decided to let you in on a little secret.  Would you follow me, please."

    Frank nodded.

    Collette led him back to her room where Mark was waiting.  "Please," Collette said, "have a seat.  Can we get you anything to drink?"

    "No.  What did you want to share with me?"

    "I was in the museum," Collette said, "and I did shoot a man.  I don't know who he was.  I don't rightly care.  What I do care about is the man that got away and the package he was carrying."

    Frank shook his head, "what was the package?"

    Colletteshook her head, "not yet.   I'm not sure if I am ready to share that with you."

    Frank looked at her, "than why am I here."  His tone was angry.

    "I want you to help me find that man.  You found me easily enough.  You can find him I am certain.  When I find him I will bring him to you.  You can do with him what you want.  I just want that package."

    "No deal!"  He shook his head.  "I have you and I have video evidence that you killed a man.  I'm going to put you away."

    Collette laughed, "that's funny!"  She crossed the room and pulled her wallet from her purse.  She opened it and showed Frank a small, official looking piece of paper.  "Here," she said.  "Read this."

    Frank read the paper, looked at Collette, and read it again.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words issued forth.

    Collette took the piece of paper back from Frank and returned it to her wallet.  "Does that help you make your decision?"

    His mouth was slack as he stammered, "you... you can... you can just kill anybody?"

    Collette nodded, "yes.  I have been hired by most governments, the Egyptian government included," she switched to Egyptian and continued speaking, "and I have free reign to kill anybody I need to."  She switched back to English, "now, are you going to help me?"

    Frank nodded, "yes."  His tone was one of resignation.  He had just witnessed his quarry slip through his fingers.  Still, it would look good to have the other man brought to justice.  "I get the man, you get the package?"

    Collette nodded.

    "Done."

    "Good.  Now what do you know about him?"

    "His name is Robert Icardo and he is a local businessman.  He is well funded and he seems to have his hands in a lot of business dealings; most of them above board.  There have been rumors of drug deals, arms sales, and even trading in human slaves. Not a nice guy.  He has used the museum a number of times for his illegal dealings but we have been unable to make things stick.  He always seems to weasel out of things.  Evidence has been stolen from the police that would have put him behind bars.  He's a slippery one."

    "And I was to be the easy one?"

    He looked at her with shock; how well she was able to read him.  He nodded, "yes.  I thought so."

    "Well," Collette said.  "We will have to make sure he doesn't get away this time.  Where does he live?"

    "Outskirts of town.  He lives in a large mansion with a view of the pyramids from his living room.  There is a lot of work being done to the sphinx, and the scaffolding is ugly, but still, the view is impressive."

    "Howdo I get there?"

    "What do you mean.  I'm going with you."  His tone was forceful.

    Collette raised a skeptical eyebrow, "really?  And are you allowed to kill arbitrarily without questions being asked in the event that your slippery eel fights the assault on his home?  Hmmm?"

    He shook his head, "no. I can not.  But I am very good with a gun and I have used it on occasion."

    "I don't care.  You are not going with me.  Tell me how to get there."

    "I'll drive you.  Drive past the place to show you it and then I'll park a mile away.  You can get to me quicker that way.  Deal?"

    Collette nodded and repeated the word that Frank had used minutes before, "done."

    "It's settled then.  Shall we?"

    Collette nodded, "let me grab a few things."  She disappeared into the bathroom of the small hotel room and emerged about five minutes later.  "Okay," she said, "I'm ready.  Where's your car?"

    "In the employee lot of the museum.  We can walk there in just a couple of minutes."

    "Okay."  She turned to Mark, "stay here.  If I'm not back in the morning, get out of Egypt.  Understood?"

    He nodded, "I understand."

    "Good," Collette said.  She looked at Frank and said, "lead on."

    They left the hotel and ten minutes later they were in Frank's car and on the way to Robert Icardo's home.

    They drovepast worn down shanties and dirty children playing in the sand.  The kids seemed oblivious to their surroundings, and Frank had to swerve around them with a sharp blast of his horn.  We passed the pyramids and the Sphinx and then raced to the edge of town.  We climbed a dusty ridge and reached a line of expensive, expansive homes.  The third house, Frank pointed out to Collette.  "He lives there," Frank said as he drove past.

    He continued to drive and stopped about three quarters of a mile from the house he had indicated.  He slipped the car in park and said, "I'll wait here for you."

    "Okay," Collette said with a nod.  "I'll be back with the package."

    Frank nodded.

    Collette climbed from the car and darted down the street.  She felt her gun as it rested comfortably in its holster.  She was well armed and ready for any confrontation.   She reached the barred gate of Ricardo's home and with a deep breath, she rang the bell.

    The gateswung open.  Collette stepped forward and an Egyptian voice called out to her, "stop right there miss." 

    Collette paused.

    A young man stepped forward.  He had dark skin with short cropped black hair.  A small ponytail hung to his neck.  He grinned at her and said, again in Egyptian, "what business do you have here, miss?"

    Collette spoke in English, "excuse me, young man.  Can you help me.  I'm lost."

    He shook his head at her, not understanding.  "I don't understand?"  His brow furrowed.  Why, he wondered, was an American woman standing before him.  She looked as confused as he felt. 

    Collette reached behind her, pulled her gun, and said, in Egyptian, "do you understand this?"

    He gulped and took a step from her.  He stumbled and fell backwards, landing with a solid thump.  "Don't shoot!" he squealed.

   Collettekept the gun pointed at his head, "how many guards?" She was speaking Egyptian.

    "Don't shoot," he squealed again, "don't shoot." He began to cry.  He was young and had never expected a gun to be pointed at him.  "Don't shoot.  Don't shoot."

    "How many guards?"

    "Two dozen," he cried, "two dozen.   Don't shoot."

    Collette shot him.  One bullet in his left knee.  He screamed and grabbed his wounded leg.  "Get away from here," she said.  "Get away as fast as you can. If I see you again, I won't be so kind."

    Screaming, he hobbled to his feet and limped slowly through the open gate. 

    Two dozen guards, Collette thought; this man is well protected.  Moving quickly Collette darted to her left, taking refuge in the bushes by the gate house.   

    She stared at the house; looking for movement, looking for any sign of her arrival.  A click sounded behind her and she watched as the gate slowly rolled back into place.  She wondered if it was an automatic response or was she deliberately locked within the confines of Robert Icardo's home.  She scColletted the area and left her hiding place and darted to the edge of the house. 

    She listened for any activity and heard nothing that sounded out of the ordinary.  Slowly, she inched her way along the wall of the house and made her way to a closed window. She reached into her waistband and pulled out a small mirror.  With her back pressed against the wall of the house, she angled the mirror and peered into the window.

    She stared into an empty bedroom.  A lone bed sat with two night stands resting on either side of the bed.  A large dresser sat opposite the bed and a closed closet door stood next to the door that led from the room.  Collette put the mirror away and spun around to force open the bedroom window.  The window did not move.  Shit, she thought.  She took a deep breath and then using the butt of her gun, she broke the window.  She was happy that it was not too loud. 

    With the glass broken, Collette was able to unlock the window and push it open.  Moving quickly, she climbed inside the house.

    Silencegreeted her ears.  The guard she had confronted said that there were two dozen guards; surely they knew she was here.  She figured that they were setting a trap for her.  The thought did not scare her; it invigorated her.  She welcomed the challenge.  She reloaded the missing bullet from her gun; keeping the weapon fully loaded.  She took a deep breath and stained to hear beyond the room.

    Silence.

    Collette opened the door from the room and a bullet rang out, whizzing past her head.  She ducked just in time and threw herself towards the young Egyptian man standing before her, his gun raised.  She pushed into the assailant, sending him backwards against the opposite wall with a thud.  The drywall dented and dust fell onto them.  Collette brought her gun around and fired a single bullet against the man she was fighting with.

    The man fell limp.

    Collette struggled to her feet, blood staining her hands from the bullet that had ended the life of her assailant.  She grabbed the man's gun and carried it back through the room she had entered and threw the weapon out the window.  One less gun to worry about, she reasoned.

    Collette slipped slowly from the bedroom and entered the hallway.  No guards greeted her this time.  She looked down the hall.  Two closed doors met her gaze; the hallway spilling into a large living room.  The living room was empty as near as she could tell.  She inched forward, looking for any assailants.  She peered into the living room as more of it came into view with her inching forward. 

    She spotted a long, leather couch sitting in front of a huge television screen.  Speakers hung from the ceiling, wires hidden from view behind the walls.  Two recliners sat on either side of the couch, angled towards the television as well.  She could not see behind the couch; she fired once with the silent gun.  A grunt greeted her.  She took three quick steps, her gun leading the way.  She made it to the rear of the couch and saw a man holding his stomach and groaning silently, blood spilling from his mouth.

    Collette put him out of his misery and then once again reloaded her gun, keeping the chamber full.

    She walked back to the hallway and stopped outside the first of the two doors that had been closed.  She had learned never to leave your back unguarded; it would be unwise and possibly fatal to leave the rooms unexplored even if they proved to be empty.  Cautiously, ducking low, she pushed the first door open, her gun ready to fire.      

    The room was another bedroom. A large waterbed filled most of the room, straddled by two dark brown night stands.  A small lamp rested on the left hand nightstand and a digital alarm clock, silently marking the time, sat on the nightstand to the right of the bed.  A dresser sat opposite the bed.  The room had a feeling of being unused and empty.   Collette opened the closet door that sat to the right of the dresser and found it empty.  She turned around and went back into the hallway.

    She made her way to the second door and slowly opened the door.  A small bathroom sat empty.   A dark shower curtain blocked the view of the tub.  Not taking any chances, Collette ducked low and fired two rounds into the curtain.  The gun was silent, but the bullets were loud as they ricocheted off of the tile.  The tub was empty.  Collette reloaded the gun again; keeping the chambers full. 

    Collette left the bathroom and returned to the living room.   The house was eerily silent; as if the whole house was in a stand-by condition; waiting for Collette to make her way to waiting assassins.   An archway led past a staircase and then to a formal dining room.  Collette cautiously made her way towards the stairs.  She peered upstairs and did not see anybody waiting her arrival.  She jumped past the staircase and into the dining room. 

    She peeredunder the table and was thankful that there was nobody there.  She inched past the dining room table and peered into a large kitchen with an island in the middle.  She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand at attention.  Immediately she dropped to a crouch, she could not see anybody, but she knew that somebody was there; she could feel it.

    Moving silently Collette made her way to the island.  Where was the guard hiding?  Behind the island would make the most sense; but no, that is not where he or she was hiding. In the island; that is what felt right.  She dropped lower and rolled onto her back.  She pointed her gun at the cabinetry and fired six rounds into the island.  Blood began to drop to the floor, leaking past the closed cabinet doors.  She had caught the man unaware and her body no longer sensed any danger in the kitchen.

    Collette stood up.  She opened the first door of the island and stared at the dead man with a gun in his hand.  Seeing his weapon reminded her to reload.  She had made a lot of noise, she knew.  The bullets striking the cabinets here in the kitchen and the tile in the bathroom left definitely marked her position in the house.  She regretted making the noise, but knew she had no choice.  A quick breath and she was on her way, back to the staircase.

    Collette ascended the stairs. She stopped on a long hallway.  To her left were four closed doors and to her right there were three doors.  At the end of the hallway was another staircase that led up to the third story of the building.  Collette listened for any sounds to indicate the presence of any of the guards; she heard nothing.  She turned right to the three empty doors, ignoring the four doors and the stairs for now.  She made her way down the hallway to the first closed door.

    She listened; only silence greeted her.  She stood to the side of the door and slowly turned the knob.  A bullet shattered the door above the doorknob.  Collette's hand flew away from the door as the door slammed open.  Collette dropped to her knees and rolled away from the door.  The door at the end of the hall opened and a lone man emerged, a gun pointing at Collette.  "Don't move!" he said in Egyptian.

    Collette brought her gun up and sent him falling backwards.  Collette's bullet ended his life instantly. 

    Collette rotated around to face the shattered door.  She could tell it was a bedroom, a brown dresser met her gaze.  Lying on the floor, she inched forward, her gun leading her towards the open door.  The bed came into view.  She could see under the bed; there was nobody there.  Collette pulled out the mirror again and used it to find the guard waiting for her in the corner opposite the bed.   He was a young man of about twenty-five.  She guessed his position and fired two bullets through the wall of the room. 

    The bullets pierced the wall and a loud groan emerged from the wounded man.  He stumbled forward and fell against the open door frame.  Collette fired again and he fell to the ground with a solid thump.  He twitched once and then lay still.  Collette climbed back to her feet and continued her trek down the hallway. 

    She reached the one door still closed and as cautiously as before she opened it.  It was a bedroom that had been converted into a den.  A large desk with a computer sat on it.  The closet door was open and a two large book shelves sat there filled with books on computers and computer software.  Next to the desk were three large filing cabinets, all the drawers closed.  A chair sat empty before the desk.  There was nobody in the room.

    Collette turned back to the door that one of the guards had burst through.  He was lying dead at the door and Collette had to step over him to get into the final room on the end. It was another bedroom.  After a brief search, she knew it was empty.  With half the house checked she felt more comfortable as she made her way back down the hallway; she knew there was not a guard about to jump out from behind her.  It was a secure feeling.

    She facedthe remaining four doors that were closed to her gaze and slowly made her way to the first one.  She listened intently for any motion.  A faint rustling sound could be heard from the door, followed by a slight squeak.  Her brow furrowed as she slowly pushed the door open.  A naked woman lay tied to the bed, her legs spread wide.  Her mouth was gagged with a dirty rag.  She had tears in her eyes and as Collette entered she began struggling against the ropes that held her immobile to the bed.

    Collette cautiously entered the room.  The women kept looking at her and then glancing nervously at the closed closet door.  Collette pointed her gun at the closet and raised her eyebrows to the naked woman.

    The woman nodded.

    Collette fired three rounds into the closet.  A man stepped out the closet and another bullet dropped him to the floor; dead.  Collette shut the door to the bedroom and ungagged the woman.   "I'm going to untie you," Collette said in Egyptian.  "Get away from here as fast as you can."

    Crying, her voice hitching, the woman said, "they'll kill me if I run." 

    Collette began untying her, starting with her legs.  "Don't worry about them," she said.  "I'm sure that by the end of the day you will be but a memory."