The Cana Mystery Read Online Free PDF

know anything? Would she be difficult? As the sirocco clawed the taut canvas, Simon plotted his next move. Reluctantly, he unlocked his phone and dialed Sheik Ahmed’s number.
     

Chapter 3
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    Surrounded by dramatic mountains of basalt, Sana’a has been inhabited for at least twenty-five hundred years. According to legend, it was founded by Noah’s son Shem after the Great Flood. Ava remembered Sana’a had been conquered by the Mamelukes in 1517 and again by the Ottomans under Sulieman the Magnificent. Fortunately, neither conquest resulted in the historic citadel’s destruction.
    The plane landed and Ava breezed through customs. Mildly disappointed to find no welcoming committee, she waited as fellow passengers greeted friends, family, and business associates. Eventually, only Ava and a man remained at the gate. She regarded him furtively. His features had a distinctively vulpine aspect. Ava didn’t recognize him from the plane. He must be waiting for someone, but she was the only passenger left. Was he waiting for her? She tried to ask him, but when she approached, he retreated into the airport crowd. With a shrug, Ava hoisted her backpack and trekked to baggage claim.
    Twenty minutes later she’d recovered her gigantic suitcase from the carousel. There was still no sign of Paul. She rested her bags on a bench of polished chrome and black vinyl and sat down to wait. After all, she reasoned, why should she hurry? They were paying her two thousand dollars a day. Almost ten minutes passed before her natural impatience gained the upper hand. Ava unlocked her phone and attempted to check her voice mail but she didn’t get service in Yemen.
    Then she remembered Gabe’s satphone. It should work anywhere. Kneeling, she opened her suitcase and began searching through its contents. At that moment she caught a chilling reflection in the chrome of the bench. Ava froze. It was the man from the gate. Concealed behind a pillar, he was watching her.
    As terror gripped her, Ava struggled to remain calm. She told herself there was nothing to fear. He was probably just a lonely guy who watched women in airports. She shut her suitcase, stood, and began dragging her bags toward the exit. As she neared the automatic glass doors, she again looked at her reflection. Was anyone behind her? She wasn’t sure. Then she saw him. He was following her out of the building. Heart pounding, Ava started to sweat. She tried to hurry, but the heavy suitcase anchored her in place. With all her might, Ava jerked it onto her hip, somehow curled her fingers beneath it, and jogged out the door. Yelling apologies in Arabic, she pushed to the front of the taxi line and threw herself into a waiting cab.
    “Hotel,” she demanded. “Hurry!” The driver dropped his newspaper and turned the ignition. As the cab pulled away from the curb, Ava glanced back through the rear window. Her pursuer had disappeared.
     
     
    The taxi deposited Ava at an expensive tourist lodging. She checked in, keeping the receipt for reimbursement. Lugging her heavy bags, a bellhop guided Ava to her room and left the key. She gave him a nice tip, mentally adding it to her travel-expense tally. Alone, Ava sat on the edge of the bed, heart still racing from the traumatic experience of being followed. She felt scared and vulnerable. Worse, she couldn’t decide if she’d overreacted. Was she a stereotypical American, fearful that every foreigner posed a threat?
    Using the hotel phone, she called home. The call went straight to voicemail. Ava’s mother, Helen, never answered calls from unfamiliar numbers. After recording a brief message saying that she’d arrived safely, Ava hung up and wondered if that was true. Was she in danger? Maybe she was paranoid. Regardless, she’d make a poor first impression on Mr. DeMaj in this condition. She needed to decompress, and for Ava the best method was exercise. Whenever she stayed in a high-rise hotel she got a terrific workout sprinting