He aimed down, waiting tensely for Knox to resurface. ‘What the hell was that about?’ asked Hosni, stepping up onto the wall beside him. ‘What did it look like?’ ‘Something spooked him,’ said Hosni. ‘Nothing spooked him,’ snapped Farooq. ‘He did a runner, that’s all.’ ‘It was those two bikers. They put the fear of God in him.’ He glanced curiously at Farooq. ‘You didn’t spin him one of your gangster yarns, did you?’ ‘Be quiet.’ ‘You did!’ guffawed Hosni. ‘You told him that Omar was connected! No wonder the poor guy fled!’ Farooq turned furiously on his colleague. ‘I’ll only say this once. One word of that bullshit gets around, I’ll have your balls, understand?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Hosni soberly. ‘Good.’ Traffic had stopped both sides of the causeway. Farooq felt eyes upon him, mutters, sniggers. His cheeks blazed. He’d never hear the end of this! He felt an exquisite need to take it out on someone, anyone. His finger itched on the trigger, but Knox was still underwater: the man had the lungs of a whale.
