John felt the anger growing in him with each statement from the Egyptian. No longer was he beside the dead body of Lynette. The ruins of Belleau Wood faded. In their place, adrenaline flowed, powering muscles, preparing for battle. The instincts and reactions born from training and honed on the battlefield woke. Something else awoke in John. Something that cooled the raging anger into a cold fire, banking it, holding it in reserve. His thoughts cleared and John changed.

It was an instinctive reaction that grasped the wrist of the Egyptian. It was an icy will that stopped him. John knew the Egyptian wanted him to fight. John also knew he would not leave the room alive if he did.

The Egyptian inspector was alarmed. The hand that gripped his wrist had a strength he had not expected. Even more than the power of that grip, it was the look in the man's eyes that frightened him. He had seen the anger building in John James. He had deliberately built up that anger. He knew that anger causes men to do irrational things, to make mistakes. He wanted John to make that mistake. A mistake he could take advantage of and bring this matter to a quick, and final, end. Instead, the gaze that was leveled on him chilled him. He saw Death, not Anger, staring at him and knew he was but an instant away from Paradise.

He took a step back, releasing James' collar. James advanced and again the inspector stepped back. He felt the wall hit him. He was trapped. John stopped, too, and reached out. The inspector's hand flashed to his shoulder, reaching for his gun. John's hand closed around the knob on the door and turned it, opening the door.

Faces turned as the door opened, watching. Tension mounted as the men moved into the reception area.

“No,” the hard voice of John said, “we are not going anywhere until I have spoken to my embassy.”

“You are under arrest!” The inspector all but screamed. “I am arresting you for the murder of Charles LeBlanc.”

Everyone within earshot was shocked. The police because this was not their commander. Their commander did not scream or show fear. The guests and staff of the hotel were shocked because the John James they saw before them was not the easy-going, personable, young man they knew. Instead, he was a lion stalking his prey.

“Kadira,” John said, the steel in his voice softened slightly, “kindly ring the American Embassy, please.”

Kadira didn't speak, but slipped past John and into the back office. In minutes, she returned, handing John the ornate phone. There was silence throughout the room. The police officers looked to their commander for orders, but he was frozen, unable to act or think.

“Hello? This is John James, an American. With whom am I speaking? Give me your superior. Now.” There was a slight pause, then John continued to speak.

“I am John James, an American staying at the Hotel Cairo. I have been accused of, and arrested for, the murder of Charles LeBlanc, alias of Henri Robespierre, a French national. I am innocent of this charge. I need you to send an official with the authority to act on my behalf to the Cairo Police Station. That is correct. The Cairo Police Station. Thank you.”

Handing the phone back to Kadira, John turned to face the inspector.

“Now we will go to your station,” he stated flatly, the steel returning to his voice. The inspector hesitantly stepped forward, taking his handcuffs from a pocket.

“Those will not be necessary.”

His bearing dared any one of the police officers to try to put handcuffs on him. John brushed past the inspector, walking out the front doors of the lobby. The Egyptian police scrambled to catch up. John stepped out into the harsh Egyptian sun, wondering if this would be the last time he would ever see it as a free man.