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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 opened her mouth to speak but stopped, abruptly closing it again.  “Fine,” she said with a sigh.  “I’m stalling.”

“This must be some favor.”

She bit her lip apprehensively.  “You could say that.”

“Speak.”

She reached out to the chair next to her and fiddled with one of its fabric corners.

“Monaaa?”

“Yes?”

“What… is… it?”

“I want to find out more about these orphanages.”

“Okay.”

“By going to one.”

Omar was still listening.  “And?”

She continued fidgeting.  “And I need someone to go with me.”

24

24

“Oh really?”

Mona folded her arms.  “As you well know, a single Muslim woman can’t just travel wherever she pleases.”

“True.”

“Especially where I want to go.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’s in Saudi Arabia, on business and won’t be back for a few weeks.”

“So, you want me to go with you.”

She glared at him, trying to deter his look of satisfaction.  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He took a long drag from his cigarette.  “You want me to go with you and pretend I’m your husband.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Not my husband.”

“Then what?”

Mona hesitated, and after an excessive pause, exhaled.  “My fiancée.”

“Your fiancée?” he shouted.

She immediately groaned.

Given the restrictive laws and nature of courting, engagement was a significant event in Egypt and a status symbol in many ways, allowing for a single man and woman to openly spend time together without public scrutiny or judgment—particularly in heavily practicing Islamic communities.

“You know how much trouble you could get into.”

“I do.”

“That both of us could get into.”

“I know!”

Omar thought it over.  “Where do you want to go, Zambia?”

“Not quite that far.  Kharga.”

“That’s a long way.  When?”

“That depends on you and your work.”

He feigned a look of shock.  “Just like that, you assumed I would say yes?”

Another groan.  “You’re getting a lot of distance out of this, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he stated proudly.  “I am.  But I don’t know if I’m ready to be engaged.”

“Stop it.”

“I need to be… romanced.”

“That’s it,” she said and turned toward the door.

“Fine.  Fine!” He laughed.

“You’ll do it?”

“Yes.  But you do seem painfully unaware of how many favors I’ve done for you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Then you just don’t care.”

“Can we please move on?”

“Fine.  Where in Kharga?”

“About an hour west.”

Omar finished his cigarette and smoothly rose from the desk.  “Let me see what I can move around.”

25

25

After an adjustment period of several hours, the high pitch of the 737’s roaring jet engines had become largely unnoticeable, leaving Joe Rickards seated in an aisle and staring absently at the seatback in front of him.