The Spring of Moses is some fifteen kilometers outside of Cairo, a gathering place for caravans bound north for Zagazig and Ismailia, east for Suez and the canal. It was going to be a rugged trip, hot, dry and dirty, but it no longer mattered. A tribal leader, Mustafa by name, was marked for death, and I had to get to him wherever he was. He had saved my life once, and that's the kind of favor you have to return...