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secure instant messaging screen. The message he had highlighted a few minutes before was in the centre in a small pop-out screen. Other social media posts, Tweets and Facebook updates were flowing past it. He tagged the post as important, then closed the pop-up.
    He turned to his secure email system and read his messages. A signal from Dr Susan Hunter’s phone had been picked up. It had only lasted ten and a half seconds, and tracing the exact location of the transmission hadn’t been completed, but the most interesting thing was that a signal had been picked up at all.
    It could be a trick, of course, or a summons, but it could also be an amateur mistake on the part of her captors. The length of time the signal had been active made that a real possibility. Someone hoping to lure them would have left Susan Hunter’s phone on for longer. It was well known that it took thirty seconds for a phone’s location to be reliably established.
    Few people knew about the latest, ultra-fast location tracking software the Israelis were using. It wasn’t always right, but with a bit of luck they would soon be able to identify the location of Susan Hunter’s phone and some other interesting information too.
    The screen to his left was showing rolling news from the Nile News Channel, the state-owned Egyptian news service. He watched it for a few seconds, then turned up the sound.
    The image on the screen was of the burnt-out house where a poor Jewish family had been found a few days before. The Arabic script flowing across the screen, from left to right, said that a ‘no questions asked’ reward of one million dollars had been offered by an American-Israeli group to anyone who could help them to arrest the perpetrators.
    Whoever had blocked the doors and burnt that house would have to hope that everyone who knew they’d done it was as dedicated to the cause as they were.
    And what would happen if someone pointed a finger at a terrorist who had recently crossed from Egypt?
    What would the Israelis do then? Start bombing the crossings into Gaza?

10
    The girl who had spoken to me peeled away from Simon Marcus just before he reached the cafe. Isabel was saying something to me now, but my mind was elsewhere, in the past.
    ‘Earth to Sean. Come in, Sean.’ She was waving her hand in front of my face.
    ‘Very funny. Did you see who’s coming?’
    She turned fast, just in time to see Simon Marcus entering through the front door.
    I leaned over the table, whispering to Isabel, ‘We’ll probably need your people skills with this guy.’
    ‘I love a challenge,’ she said.
    Talli was halfway out of her seat already. ‘Simon, good to see you.’
    He sat beside me, facing Talli. ‘Is this the man you told me about?’ He turned to me and put his hand out.
    I took it. His skin was rough, his grip hard. He shook hands with Isabel too.
    He must have been six foot three. He was wearing faded jeans and a floppy navy corduroy jacket. He had a big face and his blonde hair was balding a little, but that didn’t take away from the image he presented, which was of an ageing Viking.
    ‘Who was that with you outside?’ I gestured with my thumb.
    ‘She’s a graduate student. She’s helping me with some important work I’m doing.’ His smile was thin, his expression puzzled. ‘Do you know her?’
    ‘She may have worked briefly as an intern with my institute .’
    ‘She was in England studying. She would have joined us, but her mother is sick. She had to go.’ He shrugged.
    Talli leaned over and began talking in Hebrew to Simon. She spoke fast. I had no idea what she was saying. It was disconcerting.
    Finally, Simon put his hands up, turned to me and spoke in English. ‘Is this about Dr Hunter?’
    I nodded. ‘We’re trying to find her. She was doing some translation work on a book we found in Istanbul.’ I pointed at Isabel, then back at myself.
    Simon smiled at Isabel. It was a warm smile, as if he was keen to get to know her. Isabel