 Go on. And the Moezen rolled down the steps right at my feet. Before I could get anything out of him, somebody else in a Moezen's robe showed up. There is no other Moezen at the Minaret. You're right, Grego. He wasn't a Moezen. He wasn't an Egyptian. He had on German field boots and he carried a Luger. Jordan, what fantastic tale are you trying to make me believe? Now listen to me, Sam. The guy roughed me up against the wall and then slapped his gun across my face. He's lying, Captain. Ask Mr. Jordan how he got this knife in his hand. You can see for yourself.