Chapter 8 lone spy

One afternoon in late September, with summer still lingering under the eviction of British autumn, Geoffrey Land, undisturbed by the world, pulled into the courtyard of his house.He has been out of British intelligence for almost a year and has settled down to work on his long-planned book.Wife Leila has also started her second term teaching archeology at nearby Reading University.She forced him to promise that he would never set foot in government business again, even temporarily. "I'm back!" He yelled as soon as he entered the door, expecting to see her lying in the living room to rest after getting off work on the first day of school.Finding that she was not in the living room, he went to the kitchen again, and then yelled twice to the second floor.Still no answer.

Through the back door, he saw the empty garage.She hasn't returned yet - no doubt dragged down by her first day of work.He sighed and went to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a glass of wine.At this time, he noticed the missing statue.It was a replica of an Egyptian cat—one of Layla's favorite decorations—that had been on the end table. strangeness! He found a few other things missing too—a small silver vase, a set of books on ancient Egypt, a framed photograph of Layla taken at the pyramids.It's all her stuff. All gone. He went up to the second floor.That's when he was sure something was wrong.He opened her wardrobe in the bedroom, and his heart paused.

All her clothes were gone. None left. What's wrong?What happened? He went downstairs and checked the kitchen.Her favorite cooking recipes are missing. "Layla!" He called her name again, and went out to the garage.This is how it looked when he watched her drive to the university to work in the morning. the University! Rand hurried into the room, walked to the phone, and dialed the number that belonged to her last semester.The phone rang for a while, and an unfamiliar voice answered. "Excuse me, is Layla Gade—Layla Land—in?" "Layla Rand?" the woman repeated. "Not here, I'm afraid."

"This is her office, isn't it?" There was a pause, and then, "I understand that Layla Land is not teaching here this term. I think she resigned." "Resign! Why, this is impossible!" "I'm sorry. If you want details, you'll have to ask the dean." The phone was hung up, and Rand was still holding the receiver. impossible! But every sign of the house—clothes and everything else—was... gone!The whole thing is impossible! He sat down and tried to think.Then he got up and paced again.There were no neighbors nearby, and Layla hadn't made any new friends since moving to the country.Her old friends were all in Egypt, and it was there that Rand met her.Where can she go?

He decided to search the house. The house is not big, and it only took ten minutes to search it all.He found some other things missing, little things that belonged to Layla.In the upstairs bathroom, the last place he checked, he found a note taped to the mirror. Seeing the words above, his vision blurred, and disbelief flooded towards him like a tide: Geoffrey - It's better for us to break up.Definitely don't try to find me. ——L. She left him. Why?For another man? His mind refused to accept this fact.They had been married less than a year, and he could have sworn it had been an extremely happy year for both of them.They stayed together, except to complete some tasks imposed on him by the British Intelligence Service.Leila even went to Moscow to rescue him at a critical moment.

And now, she's gone. Except for this note, not a word was left. No, he didn't believe it. Something was wrong, very wrong. but where is she That night, he thought about Hastings, Rand's old boss when he was still at the Covert Communications Bureau.He also has the phone number of Hastings' undisclosed home.He hit it. "Ah, Rand! Great to hear from you! I've been meaning to call you, and that Amman job you did for us last fall was beautiful." "Hastings—" "What's wrong?" Suddenly, Rand's nervousness was reflected in his voice.

"Layla is gone. She left me." "Layla? But you two look happy." "We're happy. I don't know. I don't understand at all." "Is there anything I can do?" "I don't know. I guess she might contact you." "No, no news from her. Look, Rand, why don't you drive to London tomorrow for lunch. We can talk." "I just went to London today to meet the publisher about the book." "How about it?" "What? Oh, books. Good, I think—so far." "Get a good night's sleep. Maybe things won't be so bad tomorrow morning."

"But she had no reason to leave, Hastings! Don't you see? There was no reason at all! All is well!" "Yes. Alright, call my office about lunch, Rand. Get some sleep." Rand hung up the phone and started pacing again.He went back and read the note again. Definitely don't try to find me. He didn't recall Layla ever using the word "never." But this is her handwriting.There is no doubt about this. It was past midnight before he fell asleep in a chair. He awoke when the first ray of sunlight in the morning called back the birdsong.After a while, he remembered about Leila and why he slept on the chair.He stood up, shoulders and neck stiff and sore.He rubbed it, then casually ate some breakfast, as if he was back to being single again.

He then drove to Reading. Rand and Leila chose their married residence in a small village near Bracknell, on the edge of Windsor Forest.It is right between the western suburbs of London and the city of Reading, and Layla teaches at the university in the city. It was just over ten miles from their home to the university, and it took him less than twenty minutes to get there, even in the morning traffic.Reading is a small town with a population of less than 132,000.This medium-sized university was previously a branch of the University of Oxford, but it spun off independently more than 50 years ago.Layla seemed to enjoy her first semester teaching here, and Rand had always thought she couldn't wait for the fall semester to start.

He was driving into Reading via London High Street and had to make a detour to reach the University because of roadworks.In order to meet the needs of college students, various shops have been opened in the city.There are bookstores, fast food to go, fashion boutiques and even an oyster bar.But he didn't even look at the stores, and drove straight to the school, where he parked in the guest parking lot. Rand remembered only one name that Layla had mentioned—a fellow teacher named Isabel Skechers.Her husband is a professor who studies the detection of psychological stress, and Leila helped him take some psychological tests in the early summer.Rand found her before the first class of the morning.She was poring over her notes when he lit a cigarette. "Mr. Rand—good to see you! Layla mentions you a lot. How is she?"

"I wish you could tell me. She seems to be missing." "Missing? That's weird!" "When I called, they told me she had resigned." "That's what I heard. I heard that the provost received a letter of resignation at the weekend or yesterday morning. This short letter from her left him annoyed." "I want to see the letter." "I think I can ask him," she said, after some hesitation, "come on." After giving the students some reading assignments, she led him across the courtyard and into a neighboring building.The provost was a nervous, red-faced man who wasn't too happy with Rand. "Mr. Rand, you must imagine how much trouble such a perfunctory resignation letter has caused us." "I'd like to read her letter if I could. Layla didn't say a word to me. Yesterday, I thought she was here to start a new term. When I got home from London last night, she had gone. " The dean was even more upset, "We can't take care of your housework." "Can I see her resignation letter?" "certainly." He took out the letter from a folder on the desk, and Rand read the short two lines: I'm sorry, but due to some personal reasons, I can't teach in Reading this term.Please allow me to resign.Leila Rand "When did this letter arrive?" "It was delivered by the morning post yesterday. I tried calling her to explain, but no one answered." "Yes. I went to London and she was—" Where? The letter was typed, but not the one at home, and Layla's signature could easily be forged.The suspicion in his mind was clearer and firmer now. "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you," said the provost. Rand returned the letter to him. "I don't think she wrote it." "My dear friend, I have this letter that your wife was not at the beginning of the term. That's all I know. Now, please forgive me—" Out of the room, Isabel Skecher tried to comfort him. "Don't blame Bowser. He does that to everyone." "Do you believe she is missing?" "That's right. From what you know, she must have disappeared. But the question is whether her disappearance was voluntary." "I can't believe she's leaving me." Isabelle took out a cigarette. "Something strange has happened. Layla has always struck me as a very mysterious person." "No," Rand said, shaking his head, "something happened to her. I know!" "You mean you think she was kidnapped?" "I don't know. No blackmail demand received." Not yet, he added mentally.There are quite a few people who are interested in his former work with the British Intelligence Service.Someone might have kidnapped Layla in order to force him to hand over the information. If that's the case, they'll be contacting him soon. "I'd better go home first," he decided. "If there's anything I can do—" "Of course. I'll call you as soon as I hear." He was driving home just in time to meet the postman delivering his morning mail.Just a few general advertisements and a letter from an old friend who lives in Dublin. No word from Layla. All afternoon he waited patiently, expecting the phone to ring every moment.He had thought of calling her relatives in Cairo, but thought that would be counterproductive and dismissed the idea.They wouldn't hear from Layla, he would just make them needlessly worried. In the evening, he gave up hope and no longer expected to hear from her.He took out the note and read it again, because it was all he had, the last link between the two of them. Geoffrey - It's better for us to break up.Definitely don't try to find me. ——L. Absolutely not. As before, the words stand out again. At this moment, for the first time, he noticed something else.While he spelled his name JEFFERY, she has always used a more common spelling ending in REY. Why had she misspelled his name in her farewell note? To tell him something. But what is it? He devoted most of his life to deciphering codes and ciphers.If she wanted to communicate something to him, wouldn't she use a code?She must have believed that he could crack it successfully.He remembered the telegrams he had sent back from Moscow, hiding the information in the initials of each word.It's worth a try. JIBWPNTTFML makes no sense. With only one vowel, these letters cannot form words.Even excluding "Jeffrey" and the final "L" doesn't help much. But there must be a reason for the word "noways" to be there, as part of her password.He was quite sure of that. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became.A code meant she hadn't really left him, not of her own volition. She misspelled his name, and there must be a reason for it, to get his attention, to tell him—what?The order of the letters is reversed? Instead of initials, she used finals? Not counting Jeffrey, just— SRETSYODE Still doesn't make sense. upside down.Look from the back to the front. EDOYSTERS Ed Oysters? Or add the final L, LedOysters? No, he still thinks EdOysters is better. He has worked in the Secret Communication Bureau for half his life, and he has learned a lot in the process of cracking the enemy's code.He knew that sometimes such words would come together by accident, leading codebreakers down a dead end. The EdOysters probably just came together by accident, meaningless. However, she used the word "noways" and misspelled his name. There must be a reason. OK OK.He could assume the note contained a message, and that message was Ed Oysters.If those two words meant nothing to him, what did they mean to Layla? a person's name?A guy who eats oysters called Ed?A guy named Ed who has a relationship with oysters?The latter is more likely. Oyster.He seemed to have seen the word recently, just today.Reading's Oyster Bar, that's it, right next to the University. Although it was a slim clue, it was the only one he had. He got into the car and drove to Reading for the second time in one day.It was already dark when he arrived.The streets are full of college students exploring their new homes.They stood in small groups, men and women, beside the multi-storey car park, on the corner of Duke Road and Mill Lane.The Reading Gaol Oyster Bar is just across the street, apparently a student hangout.Although Rand couldn't recall Layla ever mentioning it, he hoped the teachers would visit the bar occasionally. The bar was dark and crowded, reminding Rand of a smoky London club.On the wall near the entrance hangs a framed excerpt from Oscar Wilde's Reading Gaol Songs, which has given the city its literary immortality. A smiling man walked up to Rand with a menu, "Sir, would you like to dine? We have a special seafood platter tonight—" "I want to see Ed. Is he there?" "Ed?" A trace of hesitation flashed across the man's face, "I don't know this person." "I heard he works here." The man shook his head, "No, you must have made a mistake." "Are there any other oyster restaurants in Reading?" "We're the only ones." "Okay. Sorry." Rand turned to leave.The man may be lying, but there is no evidence to prove it.Rand hit a wall.But when he walked out the door, he decided to try again.He turned back again and walked to the bar at the front of the restaurant. "What to drink?" the bartender asked him. "I have a message for Ed. Something very important." "Ed the waiter? He's off this week." "Do you know where he lives?" "Can't help you. Ask the boss." He nodded to the man with the menu. "What's his name?" Rand asked. "Griffin. Joey Griffin." "thanks." At this time, a large group of young people poured into the bar, and Rand sneaked out.He didn't want to argue with Mr. Griffin any more, not yet.There's a waiter named Ed at the Oyster Restaurant who's off this week.But the boss here categorically denies his existence. Rand got into the car, thinking.There was indeed someone named Ed connected to the Oyster Bar, which confirmed his interpretation of Layla's note.If there was a hidden message in the note she left, it meant she didn't leave voluntarily.She was kidnapped, or forced to go with this man named Ed.She was hijacked on her way to college.They went home, took her things, and made her write notes. but why?Why did they kidnap her? Whatever plot they had, it wasn't for Rand.Neither ransom nor intelligence was requested.They did everything possible to create the illusion that she had left him of her own accord.They didn't want to make him suspicious.That meant two things—they wouldn't be in contact with him anytime soon, and they weren't going to release Layla anytime soon.In fact, the plot looked as though they had no intention of releasing Layla at all. If she wasn't kidnapped because she was Rand's wife, why kidnapped her?Could it be because of what she's been through in the past?Before Rand knew her, when she was in Egypt? But if it was an act of revenge, wouldn't physical assault be more likely than kidnapping? They need her for a purpose.But for what? His eyes fell on another group of students entering the cafeteria.The only link between Layla and Reading is the university.If she knew this waiter named Ed, it was only possible through her teaching position at the university.Anyway, if you want to find out her disappearance, the university is the key. He found a phone booth and looked up the number for Isabel Skechers' home.He called, but no one answered.Back in the car, he drove onto Wellington Street via Queen's Road and turned right.He drove onto London Road—the way home—and saw across the street the university campus, its towers looming in shadow among the trees.There were still many lights on in the building, so he decided to go there. The teacher who shared an office with Isabel Skechers said that if Isabel wasn't home yet, it was most likely in the library.Rand stepped up the stairs of the old building, walked through a quiet corridor, and came to the reading room.Most of the faces around the table were young faces, but he was lucky.He found Isabel at a long table.She was gazing at an illustration in a book about the treasures in Pharaoh Tut's tomb. "You scared me!" She jumped when he called her name. "I'm sorry. I wonder if we can talk again, Isabel. This is very important." She closed the book and stood up with a smile. "Of course. About Layla?" Rand nodded. "Where can we talk without disturbing others?" "Better outside. I'm done here anyway." They walked slowly across the patio, toward the parking lot.Rand asked, "Tell me, Isabel, have you and Leila ever had lunch or dinner together off campus?" "Oh, once or twice." "The Oyster Bar on Dukes Road?" "I think so. A lot of students go there." "Has she ever talked to the waiter? Especially one named Ed?" "Ed... I remember him. A big guy with a broken nose. Layla guessed he used to be a boxer." "Do you know what his last name is?" "We've never heard of it." "Did they talk about Layla's personal life?" "No, it was just small talk, about students and whatnot. Never personal." That's when they got to her little car, and she opened the door, and the lights came on.Rand caught a glimpse of something familiar. "Isn't that Layla's shawl?" he asked, reaching suddenly and snatching a lake-green square from the chair.He had bought it for her, with the label of the Cairo store on it. "How could this be in your hands?" Isabel looked straight into his eyes, "She left it on the car last semester. I took it with me yesterday and wanted to return it to her. You don't think I have anything to do with her disappearance, do you?" He couldn't remember if Layla had ever worn the scarf in the summer—but she didn't have to.Isabel may be telling the truth.It may have been here since the spring semester. "Of course not," he apologized, "forgive me for making such a fuss." "I know that Layla's passing has pained you. But it's possible that the plot you imagined didn't exist. Perhaps you should confront the most likely explanation—the intent of her note." "I know. You're right to remind me. But I'm going to keep looking for her. This man Ed - the waiter with the broken nose - can you tell me a little more about him?" She thought for a moment, "Not anymore. Except, Ed is probably just a nickname. He's very dark, swarthy. I guess he's from the Middle East." "Does he speak with an accent?" "Yes, with a little accent." "Interesting. Is it possible he was Egyptian?" "No—actually, I think Layla asked about him. He's not Egyptian." She sat at the wheel. "Thank you, Isabel. You were a great help." She looked up at him and smiled, "I hope so, I hope you can find her." He drove back to the oyster bar and parked across the street.All restaurants in Reading closed by ten-thirty, so he knew he wouldn't have to wait long.When the last of the customers left at a little before eleven, Griffin and a bartender came out, and he turned off the lights and locked the door.The two parted ways in a nearby parking lot, and Rand followed the restaurateur. If he had hoped that Griffin would lead him to Layla, he would be disappointed.The man drove straight to a modern country house a few miles outside the city and went inside.Rand saw a woman and two teenage children watching television in the living room next to the garage. He was back on the London Road, and drove home with great chagrin.He was sure that Layla was imprisoned somewhere, but he had no hard evidence to present to the police.His only lead was the waiter, Ed, and he was going to track it down in the morning. Out of Reading, five miles down the narrow highway, Rand suddenly noticed a larger and heavier car overtaking him.He stepped aside to let it pass, but the car was driving alongside him and began to close in on him. "Fucking idiot!" Rand muttered, blaring the car horn, but the car kept coming, trying to squeeze him out. The moment he fell into the ditch, he caught a glimpse of the person sitting in front of the steering wheel—the silhouette of a man with a broken nose reflected in the moonlight.Rand's steering wheel spun out of control, he felt a dizzy overturn, the car tilted and rolled over to one side... In the morning, Rand called Hastings in London again.Hastings listened patiently to his story before finally saying: "You mean they tried to murder you last night?" "Yes. I think it was this Ed who kidnapped Layla." "But you still can't figure out a motive? Did no one try to contact you?" "Not at all. In fact, with what happened last night, I'd say it's the opposite. They're going out of their way not to talk to me." Rand could hear Hastings take a deep breath. "I don't know," muttered Hastings. "Even if Layla was kidnapped, you're right to suspect that it's a domestic matter—the Scotland Yard case, not ours." "This guy named Ed is from a Middle Eastern country. Maybe it's about espionage or terrorism, and that's about you, isn't it?" "Perhaps," replied Hastings ambiguously, "it depends." "You mean to see which country is involved?" "The government doesn't want a diplomatic incident." "For God's sake, Hastings, we're talking about my wife!" "Layla is half Egyptian, Rand. It might have something to do with her past." "Half Egypt, half England. Can you help me rescue at least the half of England?" There was silence for a while, and then, "I'll call you later." Rand dropped the phone in disgust.His car was towed home and unable to drive, his body was covered with bruises and wounds, and his wife had been missing for two days.And Hastings called him later! He went to the car, knocked on the sunken left door, checked the headlights, tried the motor.It wouldn't start at all at first, he figured the fuel line was broken, but eventually the engine started. All right.Maybe things weren't as bad as he thought.At least Ed didn't come back for a shot after his car rolled into a ditch. Maybe they didn't really want to kill him.Maybe the man in that car wasn't Ed at all.Maybe the whole plot was just a figment of Rand's imagination. Maybe Layla just left him. No.You can't have that kind of thinking. He got out of the car on the driver's side and examined the scuff marks on the right-hand door.No doubt he was hit several times.Not an accident, someone attempted to murder or injure him on purpose. Just as he was considering his next move, the phone rang in the house.He ran in to pick it up and heard Hastings' voice coming from the other end. "Still thinking about it?" Rand sneered. Hastings sighed, like the weary soldier Rand had known for years. "The waiter's name is Edim El Baiz. It's registered in our computer." "what reason?" "Relationships with known terrorists." "Is he Egyptian?" "Turkish nationality, but it doesn't mean anything." "What do they want Leila to do?" "I have no idea." "Do you have his address?" "Beckley Street, Reading. But I don't want you to go alone." "What's the house number?" Hastings said reluctantly, "Be careful, Rand." It was a large brick and stone house set away from the noisy high street.The grass in the vestibule was lush, and Rand immediately thought of what he might find inside.It was empty, judging by the grass, had been vacant for weeks. The computer had information on Edim the waiter, so he hid before the operation began.They must have locked Layla in another house, a safe house, somewhere that even the computers didn't know about. He sat in the car for a long time, musing over the only clues he had.Why would anyone—especially a Middle Eastern terrorist—want to kidnap Layla? Because she married Rand?No, they didn't try to contact him. Because she is Egyptian?Impossible - there are many Egyptians living in London who attract more media attention than Layla.Because she's an archaeologist?Terrorists are not interested in this discipline. Rand sat, tapping the steering wheel of the car.There was only one possibility left—he turned the car around and drove towards the center of the city.In just a few minutes, he arrived at the university and learned that Isabel was off for the day.He looked up her address from the teachers' roll and drove to Goldsbrook Road, north of the city. Isabel Skecher lived in a big, beautiful house, with a garden full of colors and colors that ran down the road.Someone—she or her husband—has spent a lot of time here.Rand rang the doorbell, and it was her husband who answered.His eyes blinked behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses and he asked, "What's the matter?" "Professor Skecher? My name is Rand. Your wife Isabel is I—" "Oh, yes! Come in, Mr. Rand! Isabel told me about your wife's disappearance." He led him into a large living room with pastel tones and modern decor.Isabel came out of the kitchen, seeming surprised to see him. "How? Did you find Layla?" "No, not yet." Professor Skecher walked up and down beside him enthusiastically. "Shall I pour you a drink?" "No, no need," Rand looked at Isabel, "I wonder if I can talk to you alone." "I'm not keeping anything from Max. Is it about Layla?" Rand nodded. "I wronged you because of that shawl. I don't want to make another mistake." Professor Skecher sat down, looking concerned, but Isabel remained standing. "What's wrong this time?" She asked angrily. "You said I should face her note for what it was. But I never told you she left me a note, Isabel." "Well... maybe I'm just assuming she left a note." But the color faded from her face. "What psychological test did you do on her, Professor? Everything is connected. You two kidnapped her, right?" Max Skecher was a little annoyed, and sat motionless in his chair. He only said one word, "Edim." Rand wanted to turn around, but was still a step too late.The man with the broken nose entered through the door behind him, and Rand's arm was twisted. "Tie him up," Professor Skecher ordered. "If he makes trouble, you know what to do." Cursing his own stupidity, Rand was strapped to a straight-backed chair.The man named Edim didn't say a word, but he did things quickly.After he was tied, Isabel came and stood in front of Rand. "I'm sorry it's gotten to this point. We didn't want to involve you." "Where is she?" Isabelle's husband replied: "Upstairs. Unscathed - just ate something to put her to sleep." "You need her to do something. You need her knowledge to do something." "Exactly," Professor Skecher said. "The whole plan is complex and tortuous, involving many people in the United States and Europe. We don't need to tell you the specifics to make you worry." "I like to worry. If I'm going to die, I want to know why." "Who said they were going to kill you? In fact, we need you to make Layla more cooperative." But Isabel Skecher must have thought the affectation was silly. "For God's sake, tell him, Max! You know we gotta kill them both." He glared at her, then turned to Rand. "We're affiliated with an organization that's trying to solve problems in the Middle East in a fair way." "Terrorist organization!" "I never use that word. However, this organization needs a lot of money to operate. In recent weeks, some members of the organization have sneaked into the United States. They will raise money in a special way-although you call it stealing in this way. Fifty-five artifacts from the tomb of pharaoh Tut are currently on tour in American museums, attracting a large number of visitors." Rand knew it all now, "That book in the library, Isabel! You were shocked when I found you reading that book!" "What's going on?" Skye asked his wife. "Nothing, I was intimidated by Tutt when I was flipping through a book about him." "Idiot!" he muttered, and then turned to Rand. "Tomorrow, when the exhibits are transported between cities, some of the smaller artifacts will be replaced with imitations. They will escape here and hide in a ship." On the ship with machine parts. At this time, Layla is needed." "You need her to verify the authenticity of these things." "Exactly. She's an archaeologist and has close ties to the Cairo Museum. She couldn't have been better." "And after you kill her, her disappearance won't attract much attention," Rand added. "If a famous artist or museum director disappears, it will be widely reported. But how do you know what she's identifying?" Is what the above said true?" Professor Skecher smiled, "You just mentioned the psychological test she gave me. As you know, my professional field is psychological stress testing. That test confirmed that your wife is a good test subject for a polygraph machine — if need be — and the so-called Veritaserum. After she authenticates the stolen Tut artifacts, it doesn’t matter if she lied or not. We will find out. If our American friends play tricks, the real artifacts will Sent to wealthy collectors in Switzerland or elsewhere." "Sooner or later the Egyptian government will find out about the theft of exhibits." "Of course. But we don't care about them. They've betrayed our cause long ago." Rand took a deep breath.He couldn’t wait, “Let me meet her.” "You'll see her soon," said Isabelle, "and it was my idea to have her leave a note. Of course, we forged her letter of resignation beforehand, and after she left you on Monday morning, Edim stopped her on the London road. But we felt that she might need to refer to books about ancient Egypt to identify Tut artifacts. So decided to take her clothes and other things too, so that you would not notice that only the books were missing. I let She wrote the note to make you believe she left you even more." "I noticed the book was missing, but I didn't think much of it. You're smart." "She's smart, too. I made her write the note in her own words, and she's got a hidden message in it, hasn't she?" Rand nodded. "She couldn't think of 'Isabel', so she spelled 'Ed Oyster'. Now can you let me see her?" Max Skecher motioned to Edim, "Release him and hold your gun. If he does tricks, shoot." Edim held a small pistol to Rand's head as he untied him.Then he ordered him upstairs.The door on the top floor was locked, and Rand waited for the waiter to open the door with his hands raised high.Edim motioned Rand to go in first with his pistol.As soon as he entered the door, he saw a small bulge under the sheets on the bed.He ran over and lifted the quilt, but there was only a fluffy pillow underneath. At this time, he heard only a heavy blow, and he turned to see Edim El Baez overturned on the ground.Layla, pretty Layla, stood behind the door, holding a flower pot aloft. "I thought you wouldn't come," she said. Rand picked up the dropped weapon and pointed to Isabel and her husband at the door.Then he said to Layla: "Call the police, then call Hastings in London. I'm watching them both." 她向他抛了个飞吻，走向电话，“你回来真是太好了，杰弗里。”

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Notes: