BeirutW
afic Solani sat sipping coffee in the little shop near the Commodore Hotel and looking at the two Americans across the table from him. When the man Evans called, he said Meester Shek’s wife and best friend were in Beirut and wanted to talk to him. His wife objected saying it would only bring trouble to the family. Wafic simply nodded and drove his cab to the specified meeting place in the Hamra District. Meester Shek was not of the True Faith but he demonstrated the qualities of those who were. There was an obligation.
It was nearly a week since the troubles at Baalbek, and Wafic worried constantly about the American who had been so kind to him. There was no useful news on the radio or television or in the newspapers about the female killer and her American accomplice. There were
