“A .357, maybe a .44,” Inspector Mendel said, flipping the fragment of copper around between his thumb and forefinger. Handing the bullet to an officer to his left, he stood up and brushed off his clothes. Mendel wore a simple, cotton, turtleneck sweater, jet-black like his straight, ironed slacks, and his short, neat hair. Though only five foot seven, he was an intimidating figure, but with a kind, welcoming visage. Captain Kemosiri scribbled into a small notebook as he interrogated the aged fisherman, who was incredulous and terrified at his discovery. Helicopters soared through the sky, and red-and-white Coast Guard speedboats skipped along the water airlessly, glidding upon the surface. Numerous police cruisers, sirens whirring and blinking, had crashed off the streets onto the beachfront. Kevin Mendel stared into the vibrant blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea, deep in thought. Called out to the Mediterranean coast, Mendel lead the Homicide Division of Cairo, Egypt.