Chapter 7

Cairo, Egypt.

Martin sat on the dirty, dusty floor with both hands behind his head, going over every moment in his mind, from the bank vault to this building. Where did he go wrong? He couldn‘t figure out where he had missed something in his perfect, sparkling-clean plan and was now sitting empty-handed. In one swift movement, he had stabbed the tired old man, searched his pockets, and even cut the lining of his jacket, but no matter how hard he looked, there was no ring. The old man had nothing on him except a battered fake leather wallet. The killer was panic-stricken, but he quickly suppressed that feeling – such a reaction would have been very unprofessional. He took several deep breaths, countered his rising emotions and got up from the ground. He needed to move. By the time the body is discovered, his footprints would be long gone. He needed a neutral environment to think through his next steps. He was desperate to find the damn ring. The old man had no chance of getting rid of