Chapter 2 The Spies and the Nile Mermaids
Like many of Rand's special missions, this one began in the book-filled office of the chief of intelligence, the grey-haired Henry Hastings.When Colonel Nelson retired, he took on new assignments and responsibilities, which, to Rand's dismay, he found accelerated the aging of the chief.
"Mason was killed in Cairo," he cut straight to the point. "I want to send you there to replace him."
"Is this the job of the Secret Communications Agency?" Rand asked.
"Maybe, maybe not. But, damn it! Rand, I can't send anyone else! Maybe you can get it over with in forty-eight hours."
"You want me to find out who killed him?"
"That, of course. But more importantly, you're going to meet a guy nicknamed 'The Scot.' Deal, we have to get it done."
"Okay," Rand sighed, "I'll take a trip. You said it might be the work of the Secret Communications Agency. How do you say that?"
"Mason was stabbed to death in his own hotel room. At the time, he seemed to be taking notes in a notebook. That's what he wrote." He handed Rand a piece of loose-leaf paper.In the upper position, a few letters are written in pencil:
JASOND
Rand studied it carefully for a moment. "Jason D. The name of the murderer?"
"That's possible. But it could also be the name of a yacht. If D is interpreted in Roman numerals, it can also be understood as Jason Five Hundred. I show you this because it is the only clue we have. .You should be wary of a guy named Jason D."
"Have you checked the file?"
"Nothing. Could be someone new, or a spy we know with a new alias. Or, as I said, just the name of a yacht."
"You think of "Prince Jason and the Monsters"? The legendary Golden Fleece?"
Hastings shrugged: "Some people may think it's a good name for a ship."
"If this is a death message, wouldn't the murderer take it away or destroy it?"
"Fatal, right in the heart. Mason didn't have time to leave any death messages. Must have written those letters before he was stabbed."
"Mason, Jason... Could it be a variation of his own name?"
"If it is, it was changed without authorization, and it has not been recorded."
"What kind of person is he?" Rand asked, "I don't know him very well."
"A nice guy, dull, a little too rigid. The kind of guy who'd get killed for mistrusting people."
"How long has he been in Cairo?"
"He was sent to the Middle East, but he had a girlfriend in Cairo and spent a lot of time there."
"Not married? I mean Mason."
"The wife is in Liverpool, but he doesn't seem to be bothered by it."
"What's the girl's name? I need to find her."
"Never mind the girl. It's the Scot you're after. To-morrow."
"Fine." Rand agreed.When Hastings is in a mood, don't argue with him.
Cairo in June is an unnervingly hot city, with temperatures hovering around ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit and no rain falling to wash away the stench of narrow streets and ancient buildings.Especially in the ancient city, everything you see, hear, and hear belongs to the old days. At that time, in this city built on the Nile, the way of life was more simple.
Rand spent his first afternoon exploring the ancient city of Cairo, stopping at the Coptic Museum and visiting again the pagan altars and shrines that fascinated him.For some reason, he always felt that Copticism was the symbol of Cairo—the evolution from paganism to Christianity, just like the city itself, which has evolved from a mysterious ancient oriental city to a modern metropolis.
He asked the Scot to meet at the Phoenix Hotel after dinner.It was not far from Luo University and the zoo, so after the meal, Rand wandered among the caged beasts to pass the time, and then drove a rented car to the hotel.
A Scot named Kirkcalty was already waiting for him at the cocktail bar.He was instantly recognizable in his fancy tartan skirt and a large fur bag dangling from his chest.He stood up, cheeks flushed, smiling broadly, and holding out his hand. "You must be Mr. Rand."
"Yes, Mr. Kirkkarty."
"No one calls me that. Here I'm Scots--a native nickname or something, I suppose. But here--go to my room. You'll feel more casual."
Rand followed him up the wide stairs to the second floor, noticing two muscular calves protruding from under the plaid skirt.He also noticed something—a small black flat-bladed knife tucked into the top of a Scotchman's stocking. "Don't you like elevators?"
"Stair climbing is good for your leg muscles. That's what's wrong with London - too many fucking elevators, no chance to climb stairs."
He opened the door, and Rand followed him into the room. "Is that knife your self-defense weapon?"
"This?" The Scot waved his hand so fast that Rand didn't even see it clearly.The knife hit the far wall and stuck to it, vibrating.
"You're so fast." Rand praised.
"It has to be fast. We don't call it a knife, but a d'hoo, an essential part of Highland Scottish dress."
"You know Mason?"
"Yes. He was stabbed to death, but I didn't do it."
Rand cleared his throat: "What about a Jason D?"
The Scot sat down: "Never heard of it."
"In Cairo these days, there is a large group of Russian technicians."
"yes."
"Is it possible that one of them is called Jason D?"
"It's possible. Anything is possible."
"After Hastings returned to London, he thought Jason D was the name of a yacht. In myths and legends, the name Jason has a deep connection with the ocean."
The Scot frowned. "You work for Hastings?"
"I work for myself. I didn't expect you to know him."
"I don't know him, but Mason mentioned the name. You came here to replace Mason, and you want to be like him, and get caught up?" He stood up and pulled the knife from the wall.
"I'm here for forty-eight hours, and then I'm gone. Mason was hunting for some information before he died. Now I'm going to get it."
The Scot sighed: "I only gave Mason a name, nothing else. He wants to contact a man named Karga, who is a low-ranking official in the Saada government."
"What about the information he's tracking?"
"You should have guessed it - the delivery schedule of the Russian aircraft to the Saada government in the next six months. This kind of intelligence is extremely important now that the situation in the Middle East is evenly matched. Israel is willing to pay a high price for it, and the Yankees are eager to get it Got it. What does London want with it?"
"I don't understand politics, Kirkkarty. You should figure that out. Just let me get in touch with this Karga, and when it's done, I'll go home."
The Scot smiled and said, "You just asked about a yacht named Jason D, but now you're not interested?"
"Have it?"
"During World War II, a group of German spies with radios used to operate on a yacht on the Nile. The Russians obviously liked the idea, and their Cairo district security chief now lives on a luxurious yacht on the Nile." on his yacht. He watched all the Russian technicians and their families who came here recently. It is possible that he learned of Mason's activities."
"Does that yacht have a name?"
"I don't know that. Could be Jason D, or a code name for it."
"Who's the Sheriff?"
"His name is Lev Dornsois. He likes the easy life, but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous."
"Thanks for the reminder. Where's Karga?"
"Tomorrow. I'll tell you where he is."
They shook hands, and Rand left the Scot's room.
The hotel where he stayed is across the river from the Phoenix Hotel.The Scot and his knife were on his mind as he drove across the Tarril Bridge towards the city centre.Kirkcalty was not an agent employed by the British government.In fact, his identity and position throughout the incident were extremely ambiguous.Rand himself always liked to find out the details of everyone.The Scot works for someone, and he wants to know who that person is.
He opened the door and immediately realized that someone was in the room.There was no time to draw the gun, only a figure swayed, and in an instant the night light was reflected on the window, he jumped up, twisted the man, and fell to the ground together.
The touch under him was soft, and a woman's high-decibel scream burst out immediately.He put his hand over her mouth and asked, "Who the hell are you?"
"I want to see you," he let go, and she took a deep breath, "I told the cleaner that I was your wife, and she let me in."
He stood up and turned on the light.She was a short, dark-haired girl with those lovely high cheekbones you see among Middle Easterners.She was about twenty-five—probably not yet. "I'm too old to subdue a man in a hotel room," he told her, "and too old to be your husband."
"But you're George Mason's friend?"
Mason.He thought of the Cairo girlfriend Hastings had talked about. "Yes, I'm a friend of Mason's," he replied, a little insincerely, knowing nothing about the man, "he mentioned having a girlfriend here, but never told me your name."
"Leyla Gad. I'm an archaeologist at Cairo University."
"How did you meet Mason?"
"It was in the paper about me swimming in the Nile and he approached me. It was a year ago. We've been friends since then."
"Swimming in the Nile?"
"Naked swimming actually. I think there are a few submerged First Dynasty tombs in there, but the buildings were all wooden back then, so I've found nothing so far except for some artifacts. The river is murky and very Hard to find."
"Mason interested in archaeology?"
"No, what he's really interested in is a yacht on the river. He wants me to swim over there and put a thing on the side of the boat."
Rand nodded: "A bugging device. Did you agree?"
"Not at first, but—well, we became friends after a few months. Eventually, I said yes, but the device kept malfunctioning. Just before he was killed, he asked me to replace it. "
"Have you changed?"
"I was going to change it this week. And he got killed. That's why I'm here tonight, see you. I have a boyfriend, and I'm jealous, but if this mission hits the guy who killed George, I'm willing to do it. We had a great time together and I owe him a lot. They can't kill him for whatever reason."
She spoke with a mixture of earnestness and detachment that surprised him.He even wondered if she really loved Mason, but she seemed to care about him. "Do you know what he was doing before he was killed?"
She shook her head. "We rarely talked about his work. It might have something to do with the guys on the yacht, but I'm not sure."
"Did he mention a guy named Jason D?"
"No, I have no impression."
"Where are the Scots?"
"Neither, but I saw him with a guy in a kilt just two nights before he was killed. It was his birthday and we were going out to celebrate. I asked about the guy and George just Said friends from work. I was interested because my mother was Scottish. She married my father, an Egyptian, during the war."
"Is this the last time you saw Mason?"
She nodded slightly: "I gave him a birthday present - a gold pencil with the university's coat of arms and a small pyramid engraved on it. It was from the School of Archeology, and I gave them to me as a personal gift Friends. We had dinner together and then went back to his restaurant for some drinks. It was late at night when I left. That was the last time I saw him."
"He asked you to go home alone in the middle of the night?"
She blushed her cheeks: "Actually, it's almost dawn. The sun is just rising."
"I see." He played with his room key, not knowing what to say, "Do you have the device that Mason asked you to install on the yacht?"
She nodded: "in my house."
Rand figured that if Mason had a way of eavesdropping on the yacht, London would want him to follow up.In a sense, that was the purview of the Covert Communications Agency, especially if he could pick up Moscow's radio codes.
"We'll go down to the river tomorrow, okay?" he asked. "Check out that yacht."
"Of course. When?"
He remembered the agreement with the Scots. "I'll call you. I might have to see someone first."
After she left, Rand sat by the window for a long time, admiring the night view of Cairo.It might be true that, as she said, she just wanted revenge on Mason's killer.But he had learned a long time ago that in this line of work, what is not what it is appears to be what it is.
At seven o'clock in the morning, the phone beside Rand's bed rang crisply, waking him up from his deep sleep.He turned over and picked up the receiver: "Hello?"
A familiar voice came from the phone.A Scot, but he didn't name himself. "The man we talked about is going to the Katba Mosque at noon today. Understand?"
"Understood," Rand said, "thank you."
He didn't know where the Qatba Mosque was, so he had to consult guidebooks.The mosque is located in the eastern outskirts of Cairo, very close to the quarry, and seems to be part of the cemetery.Rand didn't have a photo of Karga in his hand, so he didn't know how they could recognize each other.
He drove to Catba Cemetery before noon, taking the highway through the sprawling castle.Behind and to his left, thin and tall Islamic minarets can be seen everywhere, extending to the sky, reminding him of Omer's Rubaiyat and all the myths and legends of the Middle East.After a period of time, he found that he was already in the cemetery, and the Katba Mosque was actually a tomb—the huge dome with various and beautiful decorations.
Rand waited at the main entrance, contemplating a squiggle, until a small Egyptian youth appeared and touched his arm. "Mr. Rand?"
"I am. You must be Karga?"
"Will you walk with me? The minaret here has strict restrictions."
Rand said to the young man as he walked, "I am a friend of the Scotsman. And a friend of George Mason."
"Alas! George Mason and I were destined not to meet each other," he raised his brown handsome face and looked at the sky. "The Angel of Death took the lead."
"He bought some information from you."
The Egyptian nodded. "Numbers are just numbers."
Seeing no one around, Rand said: "The delivery schedule of Russian aircraft to Egypt in the second half of the year."
"If I add a little more money, I can also provide the number of technicians sent from Moscow every month in the second half of this year."
"How much more?"
"The price of the aircraft delivery sheet has been negotiated, plus fifty percent. It's a fair price."
"That's a lot of money."
The young man pushed back the black hair in front of his eyes. "Mr. Rand, I took a great risk. After Israel won the battle, Saada deposed all the generals, and some were even shot by him. Can you imagine the fate of a poor clerk? Every day I was terrified all the time.”
"Then why are you still doing it? You hate the Russians?"
He smiled. "No, just because I love money."
Rand sighed and handed him an envelope. "I'll pay you the balance after it's done. I'm leaving tomorrow, so be quick."
Karga nodded. "I'll do a final check in the morning in case the data changes."
"Where?"
"I'll call your hotel. The Scots say the phone in your room can't record."
"Who employs the Scot? Who does he work for?"
"That's none of my business. I don't know."
"Have you ever heard of a guy named Jason D?"
"No," he replied, looking genuinely puzzled, "is this man in Cairo?"
"I think so. I think he killed Mason," Rand looked at a bird circling in the sky. "I want to find him before I go home."
He dialed the number Leila Gade had given him and heard her answer in a soft voice. "Want to swim today?" he asked.
"You are the Englishman."
"it's me."
"It's a little late today."
"I think it's best in the evening."
"My boyfriend—"
"I know. He's a jerk. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes."
She was silent for a moment, considering, and then said, "Okay. I'll get my diving gear ready."
He picked her up at an apartment near American University, and they headed south along the Sayale, a narrow tributary of the Nile.Leila was wearing a pair of shorts and a simple yellow top with frills, showing her honey-coloured belly.She is full of youthful vigor and has a strong appeal to middle-aged men.It was not difficult for Rand to understand why Mason was fascinated by her.
"Those in the back are your naked swimming gear?"
"Yes. They're familiar with my outfit, so it doesn't attract much attention. The instrument George gave me is in this box."
They finally stopped a few miles south of Cairo's Old City.He opened the box and took out the instrument.It was a bugging device with a short-range radio transmitter—the whole thing was magnetized to attach to the hull, and it was so well made and so expensive that Rand wondered if British intelligence supplied it as standard equipment. .He turned the instrument over and noticed that it was made in the United States.
"I need to change into my wetsuit, could you please turn around?" she asked.
"Is this the place?"
"Across from us is the Zavit Pyramid. According to my research, this is the least likely place to find an underwater tomb."
"Then why are we still—?"
"Because the yacht is here, fool!"
He looked out into the murky waters of the Nile and saw a nearly square behemoth gleaming in the afternoon sun.He whistled softly and stared at the thing intently. "What an extraordinary ship! The Russians don't worry about money."
"Lev Doensova likes an easy life, but that doesn't mean he's not dangerous," she said.
Rand turned to look at her.The words sounded familiar, as if she was quoting someone else. "Who told you? Mason?"
"Yes, he said it."
"Another person said that to me. Just yesterday," something was wrong.He tried to sort things out, "How did you know I was in Cairo and stayed at that hotel last night? How did you know I was Mason's friend?"
"I—" She pursed her lips. "If you want me to dive, I better do it now. It's getting dark."
"Let's go." He wondered if this was a mistake, if he should concentrate on making a deal with Karga instead of getting involved with this girl and the Russian yacht.
After another two minutes, she was ready and stepped out from the back of the car.She was wearing a black two-piece bathrobe, which showed her beautiful figure.On the honey-colored thigh, there is a diving knife tied, and an air tank is carried on the back, with two breathing hoses attached to it.She took the bug from him and waved. "Wish me luck," she said, adjusting her goggles.She jumped from the bank and into the water.
Rand watched her until she sank into the murky water and disappeared from sight.He was amazed at how she managed to find her way through the opaque water.But he knew she had swum there, and hoped that no one on the yacht had noticed her approach.
The June sun was almost reaching the horizon, and he knew it was late.I looked at my watch, there was still an hour before dark.He parked his car on the west bank of the river, with the setting sun behind him. Although the strong light shining on the yacht's windows could serve as a cover for their actions, it also made it difficult for him to observe the situation.
He got in the car, lit an American cigarette, and watched the minutes tick by on his watch.She had been gone for so long that it worried him.Very calm, no signs of movement or yacht alarm.A few cars passed by on the road, and the sun sank further, and the lower edge had touched the horizon.
An imported car roared down the road and stopped behind his car.Rand turned around, trying to get out of the car to meet the comers, but he couldn't move quickly enough.It was a burly Russian man with a gun in Rand's stomach.
"American?"
"British," Rand corrected, trying to smile.
"Let's go." He gestured toward the river, and Rand saw the yacht coming to pick them up.
Tall and thin, with long hair and a hard-lined face, Lev Dornsois looked a lot like old magazine depictions of Sherlock Holmes.He was dressed in a satin house jacket, and when he saw Rand, he stood up.The yacht approached the shore until the gangway reached land.Rand stepped onto the gangplank, the gunman following behind him.
"I want to protest this atrocity," he told Donsova.Layla stood by, dripping with water, her hands tied behind her back.However, she did not appear to be injured.And though they bound her hands, they did not remove the knife bound to her thigh and sheathed.
"We are the ones who should be angry!" bellowed the Russian in passable English. "This woman tried to plant a bomb on our ship!"
Rand took a deep breath. "You know pretty damn well that's not a bomb," he turned to Layla. "Are you all right?"
"I think I'm fine."
"How did they find you?"
"They entered the water from the side with your back, and there were two men, and they caught me underwater. Then this man radioed the men on the shore to bring you over."
"A bomb," Doensova repeated. "Some of our Egyptian friends have been sentenced to long prison terms for similar actions."
"It's a radio transmitter, you know. You probably had a detector on board, and you spotted her when she swam close."
"So, you are a spy, not a killer?" The corners of his mouth turned up, with a half-smile.
"We're archaeologists," Rand insisted, "and she's diving to find lost tombs."
"Such a mermaid? Looking for a lost tomb? I doubt it."
"Well," Rand said, deciding to take the plunge, "we're sent by Jason D."
The Russian looked bewildered. "Jason D? Who is it? Another Brit?"
Rand moved closer to the girl. "Even if you don't know the name, you must know Taz, one of your top intelligence officers." Rand and Taz had met three times, most recently in Moscow.Although they are hostile, they respect each other's abilities.
"I know Taz."
"Then you know you can't hurt us."
"The spy who ventures into the wind knows what awaits him."
"Like Mason? Did you kill him?"
"The British? No, it's not! We're not here to kill, but to provide defense assistance to the United Arab Republic."
Rand finally moved into position.His right hand drew the knife from Layla's bare thigh with lightning speed.Immediately, he turned around and threw the knife towards the gun in the man's hand, hitting the target's wrist, and his gun came out of his hand.Donsova yelled something in Russian, and Rand had already flew behind the injured guy, wrapped his arms around his neck, and retrieved the knife with the other.
The door of the cabin broke open, and a strong man in swimming trunks ran in following Donsova's shouts.They looked at each other, the bleeding man trying to break free from Rand's grip. "I'll kill him," Rand warned.
Donsova sighed and raised his hands. "What do you want?"
"Untie that girl and let us go."
The Russian shrugged. "We mean no harm. It was you who caused the trouble." He walked over, let go of Leila, and then backed away, "Go, go! You are free!"
"Pick up the gun," Rand ordered the girl.She picked up the pistol, and he let go of the wounded man, walking backwards toward the door.
"Maybe we'll meet again," Donsova said with a smile.
"Maybe." Rand agreed.After boarding the deck, he turned back and closed the hatch.They ran across the plank towards the car on the bank, but there was no pursuer behind them.The Russians apparently ended the operation for the day.
Back at the apartment, Layla Gad planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "I don't know how to thank you," she said.
"After all, I was the one who got you involved. At least I should get you out of it too. It's nothing to worry about."
"I'm not quick enough underwater. Should have stabbed him with my knife."
It occurred to him that George Mason had been stabbed to death with a knife. "There were too many knives in the whole thing."
"You asked me a question before. You asked me how I knew you were in Cairo, how I knew you were George's friend. I can tell you now."
"You don't have to tell," Rand told her, "I already know." He left her and got into the car.
The next morning, Karga called early.After hearing his words, Rand suggested: "Can't you just read the numbers to me?"
Karga coughed lightly on the other end of the phone. "You still haven't paid me part of the money."
"I forgot. Where shall we meet? I'm going to fly back to London in the afternoon."
"Beside the two stone lions on the east side of the Tauriel Bridge. I'll be standing under the lions on the north side, near the Nile Hilton Hotel. Twelve noon."
"That's it." Rand hung up the phone and quickly put on his clothes.Before noon, he had to meet another person.
The Scot got up, held out his hand, and said hello to Rand. "Glad we were able to meet again before you left Cairo," he said. "Did your mission go well?"
"It went well," Rand said, "I will meet Karga at noon, and he will give me the information."
"I know there was some trouble last night on the Russian's yacht."
"Words travel so fast. There's been a little trouble, but I've managed it."
"Lev was furious. It's a good thing you're leaving today."
"Before I leave, I hope I can find Mason's killer."
"Do you know who did it?"
Rand looked the Scot straight in the eye. "You killed him, Kirkcalty. You worked for the Americans, bugging yachts was an American plan, and you used Mason to get to that girl. You need her to do this dirty money for you trick."
"Oh, come on, Rand! Isn't that far-fetched?"
"You're carrying the murder weapon right now, in your stocking," Rand went on, "and only you will tell her I'm here, and she'll use the same words as you Ensois."
"Rand, you think too much."
"Do you dare to deny that you work for Americans? That instrument is made in the United States."
Sighing, the Scot confided. "Rand, hell! You're making things difficult for your colleagues. Yes, I work for the Americans, and Mason is one of us. He's been in the Middle East for a long time, and he's had a lot of girlfriends— There is Layla in Cairo and another in Baghdad which costs a lot. So he takes money from the US and from you. The Americans don't mind because there is no conflict of interest, but I don't think London knows about it. Mason Going to get the data from Karga, I'm just manipulating it remotely. I figured Mason's girlfriend could dive and swim to that yacht—"
"She can, and has done two dives. It's not easy. Why kill Mason?"
"I didn't, hell!"
"I guess your code name is Jason D."
"I'd never heard of that name until you mentioned it to me."
"Leyla said she had a jealous boyfriend. It was you—you killed Mason to get her."
The Scot chuckled. "Gee, my old man. You're contradicting yourself. If Layla was my girlfriend, why should I contact her through Mason, would I?"
Rand hesitated: "The knife—"
"Mine was a throwing knife. Mason was stabbed at close quarters. Remember? The cut went right to the heart, meaning the dagger went up from under the ribs."
"but--"
"Why don't you ask that girl? She's a good hand with a knife."
"You know a lot."
"I know more about Cairo than you do, old chap. Go back to London, it's yours."
Rand had a lot to say, but it was useless.The Scots refuted him, at least for now.Besides, it's almost noon time for the meeting.
He parked his rented car at the Nile Hilton Hotel and walked quickly across the street to a wide tree-lined road by the river.The Tauriel Bridge stretched across the front, and the bridge deck was so low that ships passing below had to lower their masts.Here the river was still muddy, but calmer and more magnificent.This is the real Nile, showing its grandeur and majesty.
The stone lion he was looking for stood quietly on the stone seat, and the little Egyptian waited below. "I'm sorry I'm late," Rand said, "some things weren't done."
Karga nodded: "Did you bring the money?"
Rand handed it to him and asked, "What about the data?"
"In my head, I said, remember," Karga said quickly, observing the situation around him, "in July, the Russians delivered fifteen aircraft. In August—"
Just then Rand saw her, waiting in a small car parked by the bridge.Leila Gade.For a moment, he thought she was waiting for him, but suddenly he realized. "Jason D." he cut him off.
"What?" The little man glared at him.
"Jason D. It was you. You were Leila's boyfriend, Karga. You killed George Mason."
He blinked, looked around, and waited for an opportunity to escape.He gave Rand a sharp push, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards.He jumped up the stone steps leading to the parked cars.
Rand steadied himself and chased after him.Seeing that he was about to catch up with him, Karga turned around at the end of the stone steps, turned his back to the stone lion, and drew out a short dagger, which glowed coldly in the midday sun.Seeing this, Rand didn't have time to draw his gun.Layla in the car saw this and let out a scream.
A small black-handled knife flew into the Egyptian's chest.He froze and fell forward, surprise and disbelief spreading across his face.
The Scot came up behind Rand. "Lucky I followed you. Did I tell you my knife is for throwing?"
An hour later, in the emergency waiting room of Cairo University Hospital.Rand faced Scot and Layla.Her face was covered with tears, and she almost collapsed. "I don't care," she said vaguely. "I don't believe he killed George. Don't lie to me."
"I'm afraid that's true," Rand told her. "There was so much espionage and conspiracy in this whole thing, and it was a love triangle that got him killed. When I saw you waiting in the car When I was in Karga, I realized that he was your jealous boyfriend. You once told me that you gave Mason a birthday present-a pure turkey with a coat of arms and pyramids. Gold pencil, you gave it as a personal gift. I guess you gave Karga one too. He recognized the one in Mason's hand. We now know that Mason was writing with a pencil before he was killed. He should have used this birthday present. Maybe Karga asked him where it came from, or he already knew. Anyway, he was as jealous as you said. He must have suspected There was a third person, and he suddenly came face to face with this man in a hotel room. He drew his dagger and killed him. Poor lad."
"He claimed Mason never contacted him," the Scot said.
"I know. This is about Jason D," Rand carefully unfolded the loose-leaf paper. "Look, what Mason wrote down in pencil wasn't Jason D at all. It was a few letters: JASOND , the letters are equally spaced and arranged at the top of the page. When he was writing, he was facing the murderer, and he was waiting for Karga to tell him the delivery plan of Russian aircraft and the number of technicians dispatched in the second half of the year."
The two looked bewildered.
"Can't you see it?" Rand asked, "JASOND—that's Mason's abbreviated shorthand for July to December. If he wasn't recording the information that Karga said before he died, he wouldn't have written it down. These letters. And Karga denies seeing him, which can only mean that Karga is the murderer."
Layla shook her head, disbelief giving way to despair. "It's all because he recognized the pencil," she said softly. "What did the doctor say? Will he survive?"
兰德和苏格兰人交换了一个眼神，而后，他说：“恐怕希望不大。不幸的是，没能如我所愿，得到我需要的情报。”
这回轮到苏格兰人露出笑容了。“也许我可以帮你的忙，兰德。多恩索瓦的游艇上有个厨师，近来和我们合作密切……”
Notes:
Notes: