Death of the Camel's Child
It was almost midnight in the Queen City. The wet road reflected yellow street lamps and tall thick trees spreading outward over the sidewalks. Carrying a metal briefcase, holding up a red umbrella, and wearing a black raincoat, T.E. Lawrence, né Shaw, walked along Flora Drive in an upscale neighborhood of Charlotte toward Sam Zeki’s house and considered how best he could do this. The bracing smell of the rain kept his head clear. He reasoned that if he got everything he needed the first time from Zeki he would just go ahead and kill him.
Shaw was the same size as the first T.E. Lawrence, five-feet, five-inches tall, and he in fact believed he was Lawrence, Lawrence of Arabia, the legendary desert adventurer of WW I, although he was an even more determined man and one who lived in a heated desert of his own devising. He also believed that he was so steeped in desert lore that he, like the first Lawrence, was as durable as any camel to be able to do in his desert what he planned to do.
He knew that Zeki had the 1911 Ottoman Empire oil surveys of the Arabian Peninsula, lost after 1918, and he almost certainly had knowledge about where the 1917 letters from T. E. Lawrence to his American friend were.
Shaw was going to get them back.
He knew they belonged to him.
He also knew Zeki would be along any minute now.