Read Online Serpent of Moses by Don Hoesel - Free Book Online

the other customer.
    “That car will not get me to Tiblisi,” the customer said.
    “It’s a good car,” the owner said. “It will take you across the desert and back if you let it.”
    “Is the Yugo the only car you have available?” the Egyptian asked, leaning past his competition.
    “It’s the only car,” the shopkeeper said. “The first car I’ve had in two weeks.”
    He assumed an apologetic smile before dismissing Imolene.
    The first customer had pulled a billfold out of his pocket and peeled off several dinars, placing them down on the counter.
    “You can have the car for two hundred,” the owner said. He gestured at the sixty dinars the man had offered. “This will not even fill the tank of the next car that comes.”
    Imolene understood the intricacies of this process but lacked the patience to deal with it this day. He leaned forward again.
    “Is there anywhere else to get a car in town?” he asked.
    This time the man did not even look in his direction.
    “This is the only car,” he said.
    Imolene returned a thoughtful nod and then turned to his fellow customer.
    “Excuse me,” he said, placing his massive hand on the man’s shoulder. When the man turned, it was obvious that he had not taken a good look at his competition for the vehicle because his expression was pure irritation. It wasn’t until the much shorter man was forced to look up into Imolene’s cold eyes that his face changed.
    “I need the car,” Imolene said. It was not a request as much as it was a simple fact.
    “I already told you,” the merchant interjected. “I only have the one car.”
    Despite the merchant’s protest, the Libyan customer appeared uncertain. Imolene took a half step forward, invading the other man’s space and pointedly ignoring the merchant. He leaned down so that his face was a scant few inches from that of the other man.
    “I require the car and, consequently, I am going to leave with it. You may either allow me to do so or I will break each of the bones that I can reasonably assume you would use in the course of driving.” He allowed the threat to settle in before smiling and adding, “And I imagine the average person uses a great many bones in the process of piloting a manual Yugo with no power steering.”
    Once he’d made the threat, he did not pull back but kept his face close. He could smell the odor of the man, the sweat of days. He watched a bead of sweat develop on the Libyan’s forehead and start a trail down the side of his face. Beneath this inspection the man finally caved. Without a word, or a look at the merchant, he swept his money from the counter and hurried to the door, giving Imolene a wide berth. Once he was gone, Imolene turned to the merchant, his calm expression unchanged.
    His original customer gone, the proprietor appeared to weigh his options and returned the Egyptian’s look with a shrug of his shoulders.
    “Okay, we have one car,” he said. “It is out front. Perhaps you’ve seen it?”

8

    Despite the distance between them, Esperanza felt as if Romero were in the room with her. She could almost see him sitting at his desk, the thoughtful look on his face. It was an image that gave her comfort as she considered the ramifications of Jack not having answered his phone.
    Romero had also tried to reach him, but as Esperanza knew it would, it went to voice mail. Then he’d called Sturdivant, who had repeated what he’d told Esperanza, while she stood in his office and listened to the telling for the second time.
    On one hand, Esperanza felt silly for even entertaining the thought that something was wrong. Few people were better travelers than Jack. The man knew how to take care of himself, and with a history demonstrating that missing an appointment by a few days was a common occurrence, there was little reason to suspect anything but willful irresponsibility.
    Except for the money.
    Espy still had a difficult time imagining Jack pocketing a quarter of a million