The Cana Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

up and down the stairs. Ava stripped off her floral dress and donned black running shorts, a white tank top, and pink Reeboks. She dropped her passport, room key, wallet, and Gabe’s satphone into a mini backpack, which she tied across her torso. Then, stretching her arms high above her head, she jogged into the hall and went in search of the stairwell.
    In Ava’s opinion the exits were poorly marked. After two wrong turns, she was lost. Although she could read Arabic, no signs or arrows directed her to the stairs. “What should we do in case of fire?” she thought acidly to herself. As she neared the corner, the elevator’s bell rang. Ava relaxed. She’d just ride down to the lobby and ask the concierge about gym facilities, but when she turned, her heart jumped into her throat. The man from the airport had just exited the elevator. He was faced away from Ava, scanning room numbers. This wasn’t paranoia. He’d followed her here. As she watched, he began walking down the opposite hall. Ava counted three rapid heartbeats and—timing the automatic doors precisely—dashed into the elevator. She must have made a sound, because at the last instant the man turned. Dark eyes brimming with malice, he stared into her as the stainless-steel doors slid shut.
    Several times Ava pounded the LOBBY button. Enduring the agonizingly slow descent, Ava curled her hands into fists and vowed to make the man pay dearly for anything he took. Finally, the bell rang and the doors opened. She peered out of the elevator. He wasn’t there. Never one to test fate, she ran past the startled bellhop to the front door.
     
     
    “Gabe,” Ava shouted into the chunky black phone. “Gabe, please! I’m in trouble!” She didn’t want to mention the man following her, but she needed to convince him this was urgent. A long pause ensued. Was it a technical impediment or was Gabe making up his mind?
    “Okay, Ava. What do you need?”
    She gave silent thanks that she knew someone as savvy and loyal as Gabe. They’d met her sophomore year. Gabe lived in the dorm room directly above Ava’s. Her roommate had called the resident tutor to complain about a “psycho” upstairs who insisted on blasting electronica until five in the morning and apparently smoking clove cigarettes, in obvious violation of dorm rules. Gabe came down the next day to apologize. Ava answered the door in a damp sports bra and running shorts. Even now she grinned, remembering his geeky, endearing efforts to maintain eye contact. He stammered out his mea culpas and explained that he’d been up all night blogging (critiquing something called carnivore ) and that whenever he got into his hacker zone he lost all concept of time, music volume, everything.
    Except for the clove cigarettes, which he quit that year, and the fact that he’d risen to become a resident tutor himself, Gabe remained essentially the same sweet-natured guy. He was a little taller and heavier but just as bright, quirky, innocent, and lovable.
    “My contact never showed at the airport. I need to find him and all I have is a phone number. I’m not even sure what continent he’s on. Can you help?”
    “When was the last time you spoke?”
    “Right before I left Boston.” When was that? It must have been at least twenty-four hours before, but she couldn’t be sure with all the time-zone changes. To Ava it seemed that a week had passed.
    “Give me the number. I’ll work backward. Try to use GPS. You’re probably within signal-intercept range of Agios Nikolaos.”
    “Of what?”
    “Nothing. Forget I said it. You don’t want to know. Maintain plausible deniability.”
    “Okay. Just try, Gabe. That’s all I ask.”
    “I will, but if I can’t find anything, will you take the next plane home?”
    “Maybe,” Ava replied, adding silently, “unless they’re still watching the airport.”
    “I found him,” Gabe announced a short time later.
    “Brilliant!”
    “Or at least I found his phone. I