BeirutF
ast Eddie Evans returned to the American Embassy feeling relieved and a little less guilty. The trip to pick up Chan Dwyer Davis and the lab courier from Cyprus had gone off without a hitch. His Lebanese immigration contacts had been quick and efficient ginning up a visa for her, and the arrival process with various officials waving their arms and shouting had gone relatively smoothly. Chan was now comfortably if impatiently waiting at the Commodore Hotel for Shake to return from Baalbek. She said she’d call his number when they wanted to fly back, and Evans excused himself to get back and try for a status report on the mission. Shake might have already made the hand-off. He flopped down at his desk and checked his phone. No texts and no missed calls.
Maybe he could invite Shake
