Page 17 of The Geek and the Sheikh

But the nice thing about physical notes was that they contained absolutely no information except what was written on them... and fingerprints.

But she had never been arrested, so that wouldn't give very much information. And she hadn't saidwhereshe was going. London was a big city. The woman couldn't dust for prints everywhere like that path-erasing sweeper dog in Alice in Wonderland except in reverse, like a path-creationsweeper dog.

Junebug tried to think what most characters in a movie would do in her situation, but for some reason she kept flashing back to Alice as she sang"I give myself very good advice...."

Focus, she chastised herself.

It would all boil down to a character's fight-or-flight instincts, she reasoned.

Or their 'too stupid to live' genes.

She liked to think she had been born without that.

"But the waiting makes me—"

Junebug mentally growled at Alice to shut up. She might have difficulties concentrating and staying still, but she had learned a lot from her sister, Idella, Harlem, and her mom. She could be patient. She could make her opponent reveal all the information while she revealed none.

The seconds ticked by, and faint hints of Alice's song continued in her mind, undaunted."And I love the change, should something strange...."

Junebug resisted the urge to reach out again and say something, anything, that would make her opponent tell her something. She wouldn't, because the hacker had contactedherand they would tell her why. Junebug would keep the upper hand... and use the information. She'd figure it out as she went.

A new message from the hacker appeared.

My boss would like to discuss a job offer with you.

Who is your boss?

Meet me in the hotel coffee shop in five minutes.

Bugs shook her head in disbelief.Thatwould be like going into a dark alley knowing a serial killer awaited her. Or in this case, a sociopath billionaire wanting to force her to do his bidding.

Why would I do something that stupid?

Because Jam-man, or should I say Prince Jameel Saif-Ad-Din, is in danger.

I'm not falling for that trick! He's got loads of protection!

Does he? 5 minutes.

One hour. London is a busy city.

One hour, then. Here’s a little entertainment in case you think I’m joking.

Uncertainty filled Junebug again when a video appeared on her screen. Her security indicated that it was a clean link. She hesitated a second before she clicked it.

Horror filled her as she noticed the solid red numbers of a timer strapped to what looked like explosives taped under a desk. The strategically positioned camera captured the name of the intended victim along with the bomb. Junebug's eyes locked on the lettering on the door. Even mirrored, it was impossible to ignore who the office belonged to—Prince Jameel Saif-Ad-Din, Jawahir Royal Intelligence Services Director.

Five

Jameel exited the private jet, taking the stairs two at a time. A British customs agent greeted him at the bottom of the steps. Jameel handed the man his diplomatic documents.

"Business or pleasure, your highness?" the uniformed agent politely inquired.

"Business," he responded.

"I hope everything goes well, your highness," the agent replied, handing him back his documents. "Welcome to the United Kingdom."

"Thank you," he replied.

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