Baalbek, LebanonI
t was nearly 0830 when Wafic Solani finally chugged up the driveway at the Palmyra Hotel. Shake had milled away the time fuming over too many cups of strong black coffee and was in the mood to lay down the law when he pulled open the door of the cab and saw Wafic’s face. The left cheek was bruised and swollen below a spectacular black eye.
“What the hell happened to you, Wafic?” Shake slid into the passenger seat next to his driver and took a closer look. He’d been in enough fistfights to recognize the source of the damage. “Did you get into a fight?”
Wafic just shook his head and nodded toward the Hezbollah man that had followed Shake out of the lobby. The guy was a tail, no question. Shake had spotted him first thing when he came down to the lobby earlier. It was not
