Desert Rogue Read Online Free Page B

which greeted him. It caused him to breathe easier. There standing on the costly, intricately handwoven carpet before his desk were two of the most bedraggled human beings Hayden had ever seen in the company of a common Egyptian constable, who appeared to be tempering his own irritation toward the pair with obsequious apologies for disturbing him at such an odd hour.
    The unlikely duo was a study in contrasts. One was Egyptian, of obvious Bedouin stock, yet his demeanor and clothing, shredded though it was, proclaimed him to be a man of business rather than a nomad. But it was the other man who commanded Hayden’s attention. A Caucasian, the fellow was nonetheless one of the scruffiest-looking specimens Hayden had encountered in quite some time. Dressed in the sort of well-worn kit one might don on an archaeological dig, the man sported a heavy brown stubble of beard and, judging from his arrogant grin, an attitude that struck Hayden as even more prickly.
    â€œWhat’s all this, then?” Hayden asked condescendingly. The question had been directed to the police official, the two men apparently in custody being, of course, beneath his notice.
    â€œMost honored sir,” the constable began, “a small problem has arisen.”
    â€œIf it is so trifling, why bother me with it?” Hayden inquired, not troubling to offer the policeman a seat. This was merely a civil matter and not his own actions being called to task.
    â€œPlease hear me out. You are aware, of course, that the Egyptian constabulary is autonomous,” the officer began, his spine straightening and his chest puffing out with importance. “It is only as a favor to you that I bring these two men here, and certainly not because we are subordinate to Britain.”
    â€œYes, yes, get on with it,” Hayden brusquely commanded with a wave of his hand, knowing as well as the uniformed Egyptian that the police force was independent in name only.
    â€œMy presence tonight concerns these two,” the policeman stated with a nod, his tones made more deferential by Hayden’s obvious impatience.
    Hayden studied the pair in question, noting the apprehension in the Bedouin’s eyes and the casual nonchalance of the other man. The one was obviously contrite about his part in whatever had occurred, while his companion appeared to be merely amused, a sentiment Hayden did not share as he thought of his comfortable bed at the opposite end of the corridor and the upset he had felt when he had been awakened.
    â€œThese criminals were involved in a most dreadful altercation, mudir. But since I suspected that fellow there might be a countryman of yours,” the constable said as he gestured toward Jed Kincaid, “and despite the fact reports show this is the third fight the fellow has been involved in today, I thought it best to learn your wishes in the matter before I placed him and his opponent in jail.”
    â€œI tried to tell him I’m an American and not English,” came a casual drawl from across the room, forcing Hayden’s attention.
    â€œYour nationality is quite evident,” the British official replied in clipped tones. The man, with his sun-burnished skin and raw strength, was all too primitive for Hayden’s taste. There was very little that was civilized about him, from his clothing to his manner. Dismissing him, Hayden pointedly turned to the portly constable once more. “As far as I am concerned, you can throw them both in jail for as long as you wish.”
    â€œNo, most respected sir,” the Egyptian in custody protested, his concern for Fatima overcoming his natural cautiousness in dealing with British officials. “I am not to blame. I was merely trying to recover money from this villain for the damages he did to my humble shop during one of his rampages. I asked him for payment, and that is when he set upon and attacked me.”
    â€œAnd with good reason,” Jed growled,