Pandemic

He studied the woman's features. No doubt she was an Arab, quite possibly Egyptian. And as always, young; as young as his two daughters who, thankfully for their proud father, had opted for careers in education rather than the Islamist lifestyle that had enjoyed such a dramatic surge in popularity among Egyptian youth of all classes.

Eleish patted around his desk until he found the pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a deep soothing drag, trying to quell the indignation. Every time a plane crashed, a bridge collapsed, or a building detonated unexpectedly, Islam was suspect. Enough prejudice and ignorance existed to wrongfully incriminate his beloved religion for every wanton act of violence without help from the extremists. Now the lunatics wanted to forever associate Islam's holy name with the taint of bioterrorism. "Damn them," he grumbled to himself.

Hazzir Kabaal. Eleish couldn't shake the suspicion.

Was this why Kabaal had suddenly disappeared — to spread his viral menace across the globe? Eleish knew of only one way to find out.

Later in the morning, when the captain left for a meeting, Eleish broke the old man's dictum and slipped into his office because it boasted the only decent color printer in the building. He printed off two copies of the picture and tucked them into his jacket pocket. Then he headed out to his car.

* * *

Eleish abandoned his search for a shaded parking spot on the dusty street and settled for the partial shade of one of the many identical concrete apartment blocks lining the opposite side of the street, because it provided a discreet view of the Al-Futuh Mosque's entrance. It was a scorching hot day even by Cairo standards, and Eleish thought he might melt to the front seat of his rusted brown Mercedes if he had to wait long.

Fortunately for him, the Dhuhr, or noon prayer, ended on time. As soon as he saw people stream out of the mosque, he stepped out of his car and walked into the grocery a block down the street. He pretended to browse the newspaper rack while he kept an eye on the robed men who passed by the window of the store.

Eleish wasn't interested in the men. If the woman whose photo he carried in his pocket was a member of the mosque, theoretically, only two men — her father and her husband — could recognize her. No other men should have seen her without her hijab, or veil, which cloaks an orthodox Muslim woman's face from all other men's view.

When the last of the men had passed, Eleish sauntered out of the store and turned back toward the car. A group of three female stragglers, dressed identically in black floor-length robes and hijabs, approached walking away from the mosque.

As per custom, they stopped talking and lowered their gaze to the street as Eleish neared. But when they were within arm's length, he stopped. "Dear ladies." He addressed them with a slight bow.

Alarm registered in the three pairs of eyes as they glanced from one to another at Eleish's shocking breach of etiquette.

"Please, do not be alarmed." He showed them his official badge in his wallet, but that had little effect on their distress. "I am an officer with the Cairo Police."

The tallest woman in the middle spoke up without making eye contact. "Our husbands are only a little ahead of us. Please, you should speak with them."

"No, dear ladies, I need the help of a woman."

His comment only seemed to agitate them more. They took a step back in unison and huddled closer together. He pulled the photo out of his jacket pocket and held it in front of the women. "Do any of you know this girl?" he asked.

He had to hold the picture up to eye level, before any of the women would even glimpse it. Eleish thought he saw a glimmer of recognition in the eyes of the shortest one on his right, but she said nothing as she lowered her gaze back to the sidewalk.

"Please. It is most important."

None replied.

"Look. Her parents contacted us," he lied. "She disappeared almost two weeks ago. No one has seen her since. Her parents are desperately worried."

The shorter one mumbled something that Eleish could not make out. The tall woman shot an icy glance at her friend and then turned back to Eleish. "Please, Officer, I beseech you to raise this matter with the men of the mosque."

Eleish ignored her, and focused his eyes on the shorter woman. "If you know anything, tell me now." He tapped a finger on the photo. "She is in trouble. I might be able to help."

"What kind of trouble is Sharifa in?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tall woman reached out and laid a hand on her friend's shoulder as if to lead her away from Eleish, but he raised a palm to stop her. "You do know Sharifa then?" he said. "Listen, we are concerned that she might have been abducted."

This caught the attention of even the tall woman. She let go of her friend's shoulder.