Uncertain Justice: A Legal Thriller by K. Ryan Kerry

Author:K. Ryan Kerry [Kerry, K. Ryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Whitecliff Press, Ltd
Published: 2024-01-21T00:00:00+00:00

PART II

Every subject’s duty is the king’s;

But every subject’s soul is his own.

~ William Shakespeare, Sonnet #129

Chapter Twenty-Two

Turner Largeant

It’s 5:00 a.m. Cairo time. Outside the airport, Hatim El Azzam is easily spotted, just outside the terminal doors. Turner sees he is the exact likeness of the photo Noyse provided, complete to the red tarboosh. He’s a tall man with a full beard, broad shoulders, and deep-set, almost black eyes.

“You must be tired, Mr. Largeant. We have a thirteen-mile trip. Sleep if you want.”

Turner climbs into the back of a gray Subaru and stretches out as much as the confined space allows. As Hatim pulls onto the main roadway, Turner hears the air conditioner groan. Ten minutes into the trip, Turner is asleep.

“InterContinental Hotel, Mr. Largeant. I’ll bring your bags.”

Half awake, Turner steps slowly up the short incline into the hotel’s foyer. As a cool breeze hits him, he sees a porter in a red-and-black uniform adeptly whisk his bags away. Then another welcomes him in perfect English, directing him to hotel Registration.

Turner finds his room a welcome sight. He collapses on the bed, beginning to organize his thoughts. He wants to try to stay awake and work through the day, knowing the best way to adjust to the time zone change is to work through it. He changes into something comfortable, calls Michelle to let her know that he’s arrived safely, and says hi to Derek. Hungry, he orders the first American-sounding thing from the room service menu. He begins by reviewing all of Noyse’s emails.

Two hours later, as he’s deep in thought, the room phone rings. Who could be calling me? He ponders this a moment and absently picks up.

“A Mr. McInerney is here to see you, Mr. Largeant.”

Turner knows no one named McInerney. “I’m sorry. I don’t know him. Perhaps you have the wrong room.”

“Sir, the gentleman asked for you by name. What should I tell him?”

Turner knows only his office and Michelle know he’s here. Thinking maybe it’s someone who rips off newly arriving Americans he replies, “Please tell the gentleman I don’t know who he is.”

A brief pause.

“Mr. McInerney says he’ll return around five this afternoon.”

At five in the afternoon, again Turner’s phone rings, waking him from a nap. “Mr. McInerney is here to see you, sir.”

Annoyed by whoever this McInerney is, Turner says, “Tell him to wait. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

Still dazed from the nap, Turner splashes cold water on his face for several minutes.

More pissed than apprehensive, as soon as the elevator doors open, Turner heads straight to Guest Registration. Halfway there, someone calls his name. Turner sees a forty-ish, American-dressed man approaching.

Extending his hand and smiling like a long-lost roommate he says, “Mr. Largeant, I’m Patrick McInerney. Glad to make your acquaintance. Can we take a seat, perhaps over there in the cocktail lounge? It’s a little more private.” Turner feels McInerney grasp his hand like a boa constrictor.

“I don’t know you, Mr. McInerney, so I’m not sure.”

“I understand you would be surprised.

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