From their reaction you would have thought that the desk staff of the Al-Mansour had barefoot, soaking wet guests wander in off the street at dawn and into their lobby every day. I went up to my room and washed the river water and sewage off of me. Then I changed clothes for what, the third or fourth time today?

The phone had a blinking light on it, indicating that I had a message waiting for me. It was from Rodgers. He had something urgent he had to discuss and left a phone number for me to call. He could wait.

I called Rashida’s number, but there was no answer. I left a message saying that I was alright but that things had taken a serious turn and she should take whatever precautions she could to ensure her safety. I hoped I conveyed the seriousness I felt without pushing her into a panic. But somehow she didn’t seem to be the panic prone type.

I called Rodgers.

“Where are you?” he said in the tones of a man trying to control his anger.