She turned to the Senator. ‘Senator, keep him safe. Please.’
Sam Roosevelt nodded but said nothing.
The Senator made no promise to keep Myles safe at all.
Day II
Eleven
Myles was woken by the noise of the wheels folding out from under the commercial airliner. A stewardess was standing over him: he needed to put on his seatbelt. The aircraft was about to land.
A wave of applause swept through the plane as it touched town with only a few bumps. The passengers — half of whom were Egyptians returning home — were glad to have landed safely.
As the plane taxied over the smooth tarmac, Myles saw the terminal buildings of Cairo’s main airport through the windows. White paint was peeling from sun-soaked walls. He saw some scaffolding not far from the runway, and an old bus probably used to transport people into passport control. Four airport workers were standing around a fuel tanker — they seemed to be lighting cigarettes.
Dick Roosevelt saw the men and winced. ‘How dangerous is that?’
Myles just smiled. Different places, different people.
A team of airport workers rolled a set of aircraft steps up to United Airlines flight 9856. The door was soon open, while the captain announced a standard greeting over the intercom. ‘Welcome to Cairo, capital of Egypt, where the temperature today will reach 105 degrees Fahrenheit…’
Myles kept looking outside: two well-built white men in suit jackets, chinos, neat blue shirts and sunglasses appeared at the bottom of the steps. With a sense of authority, they breezed up to the plane’s door as it swung open and invited themselves onto the passenger jet. Barely acknowledging the cabin staff, they were soon standing in front of Myles — and the Senator. ‘Senator, we’re from the Embassy, sir.’
Sam Roosevelt ignored the IDs offered by the two men. His body language responded as if the men’s arrival was completely normal. ‘OK, thanks guys.’ He had already taken his bag from the overhead locker and moved out to join the men.
‘Anything in baggage, sir?’
‘No. We won’t be staying here long.’
The two security men took the Senator’s jacket and bag, and guided him to the steps. With Myles and Dick behind, the five men were first to leave the plane.
Myles was struck by the air outside: colder than he had expected. But it was dawn in Cairo — the same latitude as Houston, Texas. Within an hour the sun would have risen. Everything would heat up soon.
Myles saw Dick reach for his passport, but one of the two security men gestured with his hand: he could put it away.
‘We’ve arranged a diplomatic passage for you, sir.’
Dick raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the pleasant surprise. His father didn’t react at all.
Three white SUVs drove over the runway to meet the five men at the bottom of the aircraft steps. Diplomatic plates, special antennae on the roofs, heavily tinted bulletproof-glass windows: US Embassy vehicles.
One of the security men opened the door to the middle vehicle. Sam Roosevelt climbed inside, leaving Myles and Dick to enter the same vehicle through other doors. As soon as the last security man was in the rear car, the convoy was off, soon picking up speed and driving straight out of the airport. Uniformed Egyptian guards — or soldiers, Myles couldn’t be sure — saluted the three-vehicle convoy as it passed through the exit gates.
Once free from the clutter of the airport, the convoy accelerated onto the main highway to the west. From the passing road-signs, Myles could tell they were avoiding central Cairo. Instead, they headed out to the desert, and fast. Flashing red and blue lights from the front vehicle challenged any car refusing to let the convoy overtake. The SUVs snaked in tight formation along the highway, between overgrown grass verges and kerbstones painted black and white. Myles saw shacks at the side of the road, carwashes which seemed to employ whole families, and a long line of trucks carrying goods from one end of Africa to another. But although some of the scenes were very foreign, many were also very familiar: a stall selling cans of Coke, a teenager in sneakers, and a banged-up Chevrolet. Little bits of America had reached Egypt already.
Inside the air-conditioned SUV, Dick admired the quality and design of the American Embassy vehicle, while Sam thought through their meeting with Juma. ‘Professor,’ began the Senator, turning to Myles. ‘If he comes out with any of his stuff about Rome, are you OK answering it?’
‘I’m not a professor, only a lecturer,’ admitted Myles. ‘But yes, I can deal with the history.’
The Senator nodded. ‘OK. And Dick, you don’t have a speaking part here. You understand?’
‘Understood, Senator.’
Dick called his father Senator? Myles could tell being asked to do nothing was obviously humiliating for Dick Roosevelt. Myles also guessed Dick was used to it. No son could ever shine when their father was as magnificent as Senator Sam, even when he’d just become the hero of New York.
After three hours of travel, as they passed a sign indicating they were close to the Libyan border, the convoy slowed and pulled over.
‘Time to cross-deck, Senator. This is as far as the Embassy can take you.’
Five cars were waiting for them, surrounded by more men in shades and combat vests.
Myles saw these men were more heavily armed. And unlike the Embassy guards, they made no effort to hide their weapons. Myles recognised their uniform immediately: Roosevelt Guardians.
In the rising mid-morning heat, Myles, the Senator and the Senator’s son climbed out of their official government escort. Small bottles of water were passed around amongst them while eager security men formed a protective box around their VIPs.
The Senator watched the Embassy vehicles depart, raising his water to them as a toast.
Dick spoke through a sarcastic smile. ‘Who needs government transport when you’ve got private security which actually takes you where you want to go?’ Then he laughed to himself. ‘Hey — who needs government at all?’
His father didn’t respond. Instead, he made a move towards the car door, and the new convoy prepared to roll out.
Within minutes they were approaching the Libyan border.
There, they were greeted by a single border guard. The man stood in the middle of the road, and waved at them to pull over. He was carrying a very battered AK-47 assault rifle.
Twelve
The convoy slowed to a stop, dutifully obeying the lone border guard. The guard beckoned the cars to bunch up until they were almost touching. Myles saw one of the Guardians step out of the front vehicle, lift his shades and offer a bunch of passports.
The guard took the papers, nodded, and wandered away to a hut made of concrete just out of Myles’ sight.
Several minutes passed.
Then Myles heard the driver’s radio crackle with a message for the convoy. It was from the car at the back. ‘They’ve just pulled a mine behind us,’ came the voice, unnerved. ‘We can’t reverse. Out.’
Myles turned to see African men with Kalashnikovs slung over their shoulders, who had appeared from nowhere, holding old Soviet-era anti-tank mines. They dropped them near the lead vehicle’s forward tyres. Nonchalant, the men pushed the mines until they were exactly in place. Then they moved away. None of the men bothered with eye contact.
The convoy could no longer drive away.
The Senator registered concern. ‘Is this normal?’
None of the Guardians knew who was meant to answer. Eventually the driver spoke. ‘No, Senator.’