“What?” questioned Cooke, confused.
“Terrorists, maybe. She say she hear talk about hiding in dead part brick factory.”
“What?” snapped Cooke, still unsure he understood Cengo.
“She say some people talking they hiding there.”
“What people? Hiding where?”
Understanding Cengo was difficult. He had taken on the woman’s attitude, wanting to avoid drawing attention.
“Who say? How she hear that?”
The egg lady looked down, alarmed by Cooke’s agitated voice. They had been there too long. She clinched her bony hands like an old woman at an accident scene. The egg ladies were now anxious for the Wolfhounds to leave.
“Egg Lady say this,” Cengo continued
“What factory?” Cooke asked.
Cengo asked the egg lady another question. Though he was speaking Arabic, Kale could tell Cengo was entreating
