Three Wrong Turns in the Desert by Neil S. Plakcy

Author:Neil S. Plakcy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, mm romance, gay romance, tunisia, bodyguard
Publisher: Samwise Books
Published: 2018-05-08T16:00:00+00:00

23 – Leaving Tataouine

When Aidan woke the next morning, Liam was already up, his reading glasses perched on his nose, and he was poring over the map and the guidebook. “It says here that the only way to Remada is by car or truck,” he said. “The taxis only go back and forth to the ksour.”

Aidan sat up in bed, yawned and stretched. “So what do we do?”

“I’m not sure. The tour group is going north, so we can’t stay with them. We’ll look for a taxi driver who’s willing to make some extra money.”

They ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and Liam told Belghasem that they would not be continuing with the group. “You will be careful?” he asked. “The desert is dangerous place for those who do not know it.”

“We’ll try,” Liam said.

They packed their bags and took them up to the roof of the hotel to watch the bus depart. Brisk gusts blew sand at them, and Aidan put on his windbreaker. From there, they had a broad view of the city and the highway north. Before the bus had traveled more than a few blocks, a police car pulled out behind it with sirens and flashing lights.

“Something’s up.” Liam pointed a few blocks in the other direction, where another bus had been pulled over. “That Libyan agent has some clout. I’ll bet they’re stopping every bus out of town.”

“Good thing we’re not on one.”

“But we’re still here,” Liam said. “If they’re stopping buses, they may be stopping taxis and searching hotels, too.”

“There’s one thing that bothers me.” Aidan leaned back against a parapet. “If this Libyan guy has so much clout with the police, why didn’t he get them to arrest Carlucci? They didn’t have to shoot him down on the street.”

“Because the Libyan must be after the money,” Liam said. “I don’t know what he’s got on Desrosiers, the police captain, to get all this help. Maybe he’s promised him a cut.”

Aidan shivered and put his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker, where he found the piece of paper Abbas had given him as they checked out of the Hotel Sidi Driss. “Oh. Abbas gave me this—it’s the name of his cousin.”

He handed Liam the paper.

Liam scanned it. “We need to find this Nailah,” he said. “This word, soora. It means picture. And hina means here.”

“Could she be a photographer?” Aidan asked. “Someone who takes pictures?”

Liam pulled a tiny pair of binoculars from his duffle and surveyed the area. He’d looked about three-quarters of the way around when he said, “There. A photography shop.” He pointed down an alley.

“I’ll take your word for it. Let’s give it a try.”

Aidan followed Liam down the stairs and out the hotel’s back door, where they paused as Liam surveyed the alley. It was empty except for couple of bags of trash and a pair of feral cats skulking past.

They paused once again where the alley met the main street. A dark-skinned police officer in black slacks and robin’s egg blue shirt strolled down the street pausing at the hotel entrance.

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