Selected Detective
ANOTHER NAME MR. ARMINIUS

“Seven thirty, eight at the latest. Immediately after I finish everything here. I love you too. More than anything in this world.” Khalifa touched her lips on the phone and placed the kiss into the phone line, with her eyes half closed, it was as if he felt more that it was the mouth of a Zenab than a cold, impersonal plastic phone handle.

He enjoyed it for a moment, then with the last “I love you”, hung up the phone and returned to his chair while staring at the wooden Horus statue he bought in Cairo. His eyes were red and swollen from fatigue.

Almost done, thank God. He has included Ben-Roi in everything. Now all he has to do is write a report for Chief Hasani, prepare some biropeti to join the move to move the artifact inside the basement floor of Jansen's house to the Luxor museum; the; fill out an application for posthumos pardon for Muhammad Jamal and then he can wash his hands of all these severe cases and return to his normal life.

Vacation, that's what he wanted. Time for himself with the family, away from thoughts of death, murder and hatred.Maybe they will travel to Aswan, visit his friend Shaaban who works at the Old Cataract hotel; or go somewhere else to Hurghada for a few days, something they've been talking about for years but never done.

Yeah, that's what he's gonna do: bring his family to live by the beach, they can't afford it, but they care about the devil. He will collect money. He smiled at Ali and Batah's face when he told them about the itinerary; then, with ******, he ignited a Cleopatra and shoved her body into his desk.

Because before he can think about the holidays, shutting the case down forever and sending it to the bleak underworld of the archive office, there is still one final affair of this investigation that must be uncovered: the: identity of the mysterious “Sunan” that Piet Jansen tried to send to ******Palestine Al - Mulatham. It's just a side affair, and to him, with all honesty, he closed his eyes.

However he has done all he has to do: he has proven that it was Jansen who killed Hannah Schlegel, why she did it, and why Al-Hakim was so intensively protecting her. The issue of arms is a side issue, which may be important to Israelis, but has no clear link to the object of his current research. Regardless of that, and apart from the unpleasant throbbing inside his stomach which warned him that to continue the investigation would only bring more trouble, confusion and heart pain, he said, there's a fixed part of her part “That's too much of a packer, stubborn, acting like an annoying old granny”, as Chief Hasani mentioned who can't let that pass you by.

Khalifa pulled out her cigarette and took the note she made after her interview with Inga Gratz. In a secure storage box. That was what the old woman said when she asked about the weapon: I think she once called a safe storage box. But at other times he says that all the details are on his old friend, so who knows? about this safe storage box, Khalifa had learned after he went back and forth in the investigation that none of the major banks in Egypt had these secure deposit accounts in the name of Piet Jansen. the phone call to several people after he finished talking to Ben-Roi was also enough to confirm that there was no Dieter Hoth name on their records. There were other questions he could ask, with small banks, private banks, international banks, and that was before he started researching banks abroad. But, even if he called every bank in Egypt, around the world, he felt it would have no good effect on Jansen. Every single thing she knew about Piet Jansen, every single thing she discovered over the past two weeks, told her that she had been too careful, she said, clever and clever not to make sure he covers his tracks as a whole, especially when it involves something that proves important like this. If he did have a box anywhere, it would definitely be well hidden. Too closely hidden, of course, for him to browse through without a long and complicated quest.

This left another comment from this old lady, about leaving her details with an old friend. What fellas? On her way home from Cairo, she had struggled with this, thinking of the words the old woman had spoken many times in her mind, looking at and re-examining every aspect of the case, trying to find out who Jansen was roughly referring to, who he would trust enough for this type of information. Gratz really doesn't know.

“Let this pass,” he said muttering to himself.

“Only once in your life, stop worrying too much about something, stop being such an annoying old granny, let it all pass.”

Khalifa finished her cigarette later, putting her elbow on the window frame, looking out at the scene below: a tourist was bargaining with the store owner; two old men were sitting on the sidewalk playing skirts in the dust; a young boy was playing with his pet, the Alsatian Dog, biting and tickling his tail, enjoying his attention. This last sight briefly reminded him of something, an event he had witnessed before, although he did not remember what. After thinking about this for a while, he gave up, pulled back his head inside that space, and returned to his desk, starting to tidy up his notes.

Under one pile of paper he found a plastic evidence bag containing Jansen's gun, under another pile, the keys and purse of the dead man. He lifted the last one up, looked at it, put it down, and continued to tidy up. After a while later, he stopped and went back to picking up the wallet, a frown immediately adorning his forehead. He flipped the object in his hand, glanced at the window, then opened it, sank his fingers into one of the pockets and took out a shabby photo of Jansen as a child, crouching next to Alsatian's dog. As she did so, Carla Shaw's words were written on the back of her mind, from the night they interviewed her in Menna-Ra.

Arminius.pets in childhood. Piet was always talking about the dog. You could say, the dog is a loyal friend he once had. The only one he really believed in. Piet talks about it as if she were human. Safe storage, old friend.

“Damn,” he hissed, a curious and confused expression creeping across his face, some interest, some reluctance. He doubted. Then, leaning forward, he picked up the phone.It only took two calls. Bank Iskandaria, Luxor branch, safe storage cabinet on behalf of Mr. Arminius.

“Sialan.”