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Back The Desert of Glass Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY
  2. Prologue
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. II
  83. III
  84. IV

Mona hung up and exhaled, somewhat relieved.  She dropped the phone back into her open purse, sitting idly atop the hood of her car for a moment before grabbing the bag and binoculars and rounding the front of her car to open the passenger side door.

Suddenly, something interrupted her—a distant sound overhead.

She looked up and searched the pale azure sky before spotting a small, slow-flying aircraft a few miles to the west headed back toward the city.

She looked away, preparing to leave, but paused, thinking a moment before peering up again.

The plane had a distinctly different shape than a passenger jet, even a small one.  And it was moving much slower in the sky.

She glanced down at her bag and reached in, searching for the papers and pulling out one of the pages she’d found, or rescued, from Omar’s BMW.

It was the map—one of several old man Hamed had included in his folder.  The map was covered in graphs, waypoints and topographical items and measurements, better known as an aeronautical chart, with a prominent red X near the upper left-hand corner.

She remembered having seen the map amongst all the other papers before, but she’d failed to notice the geographic section it covered—the southwest edge of Cairo.

Now studying it closer, she could see it also covered much of the desert region beyond, including an extensive area of desert not far from where the second of Saad’s land deeds was supposed to be.

Curiously, Mona held the paper out in front of her, flat and angled by almost 45 degrees to match the direction she was facing.   She then looked back up at the plane.

According to Hamed’s chart, the airplane overhead appeared to be flying a very similar direction to the red X on her paper and a waypoint located in the middle of the desert.

Is that where it happened? Where Hamed had shot down the private jet all those years ago?

It was a startling thought.  And one that felt more than just coincidental.

Saad owning a giant stretch of private desert, a dead pilot’s map and now an airplane traveling back from the same direction?

Then there was Saad’s enormous estate, still within eyesight, which appeared to have its own airstrip drawing yet another veritable line between the estate and the mysterious red X.  Mona Baraka stood on the road perplexed and wondering exactly who was on board the small aircraft overhead.

She quickly dug into her purse for a pen and paper, then held the binoculars back up with her opposite hand, readjusting the tiny dial for focus.  The plane was a good mile away and flying away from her.

But with a bit of luck, she might just be able to make out the identification numbers on the aircraft’s fuselage.

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