Page 7 of Deceptive Lies

His mom and stepfather weren't sharing a bed.

Even as a young teen, he knew that meant more was going on than he’d been aware of.

The problem was that other than his brothers and stepbrothers, nobody else seemed to care.

Branded traitors who conspired to have his stepdad’s Delta Team ambushed and killed so they could continue their illicit affair, they would have spent the rest of their lives behind bars if they hadn't committed suicide.

Which never sat right with any of them either.

No way would his mom give up like that. She was a fighter, and she’d instilled that same fight into every one of her five children.

They would never give up. None of them. Not until they proved that their mom was no traitor, no killer, and that she had been murdered not taken her own life.

That was what he was hopefully going to do while he was there in Egypt. A couple of months ago, their inquiries had led them to a university professor who claimed to know something about their mom andher CIA career. A career neither he nor his siblings had even known that she had until she’d been ripped away from them.

It wasn't fair and he intended to right those wrongs.

So he climbed out of his vehicle and headed toward the quiet brick house.

There was no movement as he approached, and when he pressed the buzzer at the front gate, he almost wondered if he was in the right place. Even though two months had passed since their search for answers had led them to the professor, it had taken this long just to pin him down for a face-to-face meeting.

Paranoid didn't begin to describe the man. He took the meaning of the word to a whole new level. He would communicate only in brief, heavily coded messages sent from throwaway email addresses, unable to be traced. When they’d insisted that they needed more, he would only agree to meet with them in Egypt. It was obvious the man must know something about some pretty powerful people if the only way he felt safe to speak to them was in a whole other country.

About a minute after pressing the buzzer, the front door to the house opened, and a man came strolling out. He wasn’t dressed in traditional Arab clothing, just jeans and a black T-shirt, with sneakers on his feet. His hair was mussed like he’d just climbed out of bed, but his eyes were clear, although distrustful, when he pulled out a key and unlocked the padlock, swinging open the gate.

“Cooper Charleston?” the man asked.

“Professor Mahmoud?” he asked back.

Giving a brisk nod to confirm his identity, Cooper also acknowledged his with a nod. The professor said no more as he followed the older man down the short path and inside the house. Despite the heat of the day, it was cool inside and quite dull. They bypassed a small living room to the left, and what looked like an office to the right before coming into the large room at the back of the house. It was mostly a fairly basic kitchen compared to what he was used to back home, with a huge wooden table taking up most of the remainder of the space.

Other than himself and the professor, two other occupants were in the room. One was an older woman who he assumed was the wife of Tarek Mahmoud, and the other was a person dressed all in blacksitting in the corner of the room. From the baggy clothes the person wore, it was hard to tell their gender, age, or anything else about them.

Whoever they were, unless they had information on his mother and why she’d been betrayed and labeled a traitor, Cooper didn't really care who they were or why they were there.

His purpose for coming to Egypt was singular.

Get answers.

Prove his mother’s innocence.

Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

Taking a seat at the table when the professor indicated that he should, Cooper waited expectantly. It had been a long night. After his nightmare, he hadn't attempted to go back to sleep, he was tired, hot, and dirty, and he didn't want another year to pass without being able to clear his mom’s name.

The professor, on the other hand, didn't seem to be in any rush.

He took his time, collecting a cup of tea and a plate with some Egyptian bread from his wife. Once he had everything set up at the table, he nodded at his wife who quickly hurried from the room but didn't bother casting so much as a glance at the figure in black.

Shoving aside his natural curiosity, Cooper focused on his goals. “What do you know about my mother?” he asked, tired of waiting.

“I recognized her picture when you were asking questions about her,” the professor replied, which wasn't really an answer, he knew that already.

Ever since he and his siblings had grown up, they had been asking around about their mom and stepdad. All six of the boys had joined various military branches, and now they worked together as the world-renowned Prey Security’s Charlie Team. With the support of their boss, billionaire and former SEAL Eagle Oswald, they used most of their time when they weren't running an op for Prey to look into what had happened to their parents.

Of course, they had pursued all the obvious steps, trying to get answers, evidence, and proof of guilt from the military and the government, for which none was ever produced other than a form letter stating their mother’s guilt without providing anything to back it up. They’dthen started doing their own investigations, eventually leading them to the world’s most renowned Egyptology professor.

Tarek Mahmoud.

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