Even in the depths of star-struck night, Cairo was not silent. Travellers came and went, caravans of market-tradesmen entering the streets and weaving their paths to the souk, bearing spices and livestock.
With them, a man all in black walked as unnoticed as a shadow. Clad in the garb of the Tuareg, he kept from the main streets, drawing only the bravest of wary glances as he strode onwards.
In the heavy folds of his clothing, he appeared to be carrying something, cradling it as if it were precious, though it was long, shapeless and unrecognisable. The sight of the heavy, curved sword at his hip and the rifle slung casually against his back, however, were enough to dissuade any pickpocket who might consider liberating the parcel from him.
Onwards he walked, until he came to the area that was spoken of as the district of infidels, where many of the tourists and visitors from distant lands would foolishly gather in overpriced hotels and lodgings to try and eke out prizes from the dusty motherland of Egypt.
Without hesitation, he strode into one of the more humble and quiet buildings, taking the steps two at a time. Unsurprisingly, the door he had approached was locked, but no mere panel of wood could prevent him from his aim.
Despite everything that had happened, he knew the occupants always slept with the windows overlooking the balcony open.
Shortly before dawn, the call of the Muezzin rang from the minarets across the city, rousing drowsy tourists where they slept, unfamiliar with the ringing cry, summoning the faithful to prayer.
As the buttery light of dawn poured over the Nile city, it glanced through the open window of the room in the small hotel and alighted on the table.
On the polished wooden surface, lying on a swathe of black cloth was a brief salutation on a scrap of paper, laid over the barrel of a Pattern 1871/84 Martini-Henry Rifle, rare and reputed, even years after common use, to be the finest single shot rifle ever produced.
Lovingly tended, the weapon gleamed in the morning light, a worthy gift for a loyal friend.
And outside, a silent shadow dropped from a ledge on the wall, disappearing into the coming day.