Sphinx (12 page)

Selim waited until Erica looked up. He then pulled her by the hand to the entrance of another room, directing her to pay the guard at the door another fifteen plasters so that they could enter. Once in the room, Selim navigated between the long low glass cases until he reached one by the wall. “The mummy of Seti I,” said Selim smugly.

Looking down at the dried-up face, Erica felt a little sick. It was the kind of image Hollywood makeup artists strove to imitate for countless horror movies, and she noticed that the ears had fragmented and that the head was no longer attached to the torso. Instead of ensuring immortality, the remains suggested that the horror of death was permanent.

Glancing around at the other royal mummies contained within the room, Erica thought that instead of making ancient Egypt come alive, the petrified bodies emphasized the enormous time that had elapsed and the remoteness of ancient Egypt. She looked back at the face of Seti I. It looked nothing like the beautiful statue she'd seen the day before. There was no resemblance whatsoever. The statue had had a narrow jaw with a straight nose, whereas the mummy had a very wide jaw and a hawklike hooked nose. It gave her the creeps, and she shivered before turning away. Motioning to Selim to follow, she walked out of the room, eager to be leaving the dusty museum for the field.

 

Erica's taxi whisked her out into the Egyptian countryside, leaving the confusion of Cairo behind. They drove south on the west bank of the Nile. Selim had tried to continue conversation by telling Erica what Ramses II had said to Moses, but had finally fallen silent. Erica did not want to hurt Selim's feelings and had tried to ask
him about his family, but the guide did not seem to want to talk about that. So they drove in silence, leaving Erica at peace to enjoy the view. She loved the color contrast between the sapphire blue of the Nile and the brilliant green of the irrigated fields. It was time for the date harvest, and they passed donkey loads of palm branches festooned with the red fruit. Opposite the industrial city of Hilwan, which was on the east side of the Nile, the asphalt road forked. Erica's taxi careened to the right, its horn honking several times despite the fact that the road ahead was clear.

Gamal was only five or six car lengths behind. He was literally on the edge of his seat, making small talk with his driver. He had removed his gray suit jacket in deference to the heat, which he knew was only going to get worse.

Almost a quarter of a mile back, Khalifa had his radio blaring, and the discordant music filled the car. He was now convinced that Erica was already being followed, but the method was peculiar. The taxi was much too close. At the museum entrance he had gotten a good look at the occupant, who appeared to be a university student, but Khalifa had dealt with student terrorists. He knew that their simple appearance was often a cover for ruthlessness and daring.

Erica's taxi entered a grove of palms that grew so close together it gave the appearance of a coniferous forest. A cool shade replaced the stark sunlight. They came to a halt at a small brick village. On one side was a miniature mosque. On the other was an open area with an eighty-ton alabaster sphinx, lots of pieces of broken statuary, and a huge fallen limestone statue of Ramses II. At the edge of the clearing was a small refreshment stand called the Sphinx Café.

“The fabled city of Memphis,” said Selim solemnly.

“You mean Mennofer,” said Erica, looking out at the meager remains. Memphis was the Greek name. Mennofer was the ancient Egyptian name. “I'd like to buy us all a coffee or a tea,” said Erica, seeing she'd hurt his feelings.

Walking to the refreshment stand, Erica was glad she had been prepared for pitiful remains of this once-mighty capital of ancient Egypt, because otherwise she would have been very disappointed. A large group of ragged young boys approached with their collections of fake antiquities but were effectively driven off by Selim and the taxi driver. They mounted a small veranda with round metal tables and ordered drinks. The men had coffee. Erica ordered Orangina.

Perspiration running down his face, Gamal got out of his taxi clutching his
El Ahram.
Although he had been initially indecisive, he finally convinced himself he needed a drink. Avoiding looking at Erica's group, he took a table near the kiosk. After obtaining a coffee, he disappeared behind his newspaper.

Khalifa kept his telescopic sight on Gamal's chubby torso, but he allowed the fingers of his right hand to relax. He had stopped seventy-five yards short of the Memphis clearing and had quickly unsheathed his Israeli FN sniper's rifle. He was sitting low in the back seat of his car with the rifle barrel resting on the open driver's window. From the moment Gamal had emerged from his car, Khalifa had had him squarely in his sights. If Gamal had made any sudden movement toward Erica, Khalifa would have shot him in the ass. It wouldn't have killed him, but, as Khalifa told himself, it would have slowed him down considerably.

Erica did not enjoy her drink because of the swarm of flies that inhabited the veranda. They were not deflected by a waving hand, and on several occasions they had actually landed on her lips. She got up, told the men not to hurry, and wandered in the clearing. Before getting back in the taxi, Erica stopped to admire the alabaster sphinx. She wondered what kind of mysteries it would tell if it could talk. It was very ancient. It had been made during the Old Kingdom.

Back in the car, they drove on through the dense palm forest until it thinned. Cultivated fields reappeared, along with irrigation canals choked with algae and water plants. Suddenly the Step Pyramid of Pharaoh Zoser reared its
familiar profile above a row of palms. Erica felt a thrill of excitement. She was about to visit the oldest stone structure built by man, and for Egyptologists the most important site in Egypt. Here the famed architect Imhotep had built a celestial stairway of six enormous steps rising to a height of about two hundred feet, inaugurating the pyramid age.

Erica felt like an impatient child on her way to the circus. She hated the delay of bouncing through a small mud-brick village before crossing a large irrigation canal. Just beyond the bridge the cultivated land stopped and the arid Libyan desert began. There was no transition. It was like going from noon to midnight without a sunset. Suddenly on either side of the road Erica saw only sand and rock and shimmering heat.

As the taxi came to a halt in the shade of a large tour bus, Erica was the first one out. Selim had to run to keep up with her. The driver opened all four doors of his small car to encourage ventilation while he waited.

Khalifa was becoming more and more confused about Gamal's behavior. Ignoring Erica, the man had taken his newspaper into the shade of the pyramid's enclosure wall. He had not even bothered to follow Erica inside. Khalifa deliberated for a few minutes, wondering what would be best for him to do. Thinking that Gamal's presence could possibly be some sort of clever ruse, he elected to stick close to Erica. He removed his jacket and shifted his Stechkin semiautomatic to his right hand with his jacket draped over it.

For the next hour Erica was intoxicated by the ruins. This was the Egypt she had dreamed about. Her knowledge was capable of translating the debris of the necropolis into the prodigious achievement that it had been five thousand years previously. She knew she could not see everything in one day, and was content to touch the highlights and enjoy the unexpected, like the cobra reliefs she'd never read about. Selim finally accepted his role and stayed mostly in the shade. He was pleased, however, when Erica motioned about noon that she was ready to move on.

“There is a small café/rest house here,” said Selim hopefully.

“I'm very excited to see some of the nobles' tombs,” said Erica. She was too excited to stop.

“The rest house is right next to the mastaba of Ti and the serapeum,” said Selim.

Erica's eyes brightened. The serapeum was one of the most unusual ancient Egyptian monuments. Within the catacombs the mummified remains of Apis bulls had been interred with pomp and circumstance befitting kings. It had been with enormous effort that the serapeum had been dug by hand into the solid rock. Erica could understand the effort devoted to construction of human tombs, but not for the bulls. She was convinced that there was a mystery associated with the tomb of the Apis bulls that had yet to be unraveled. “I'm ready for the serapeum,” she said with a smile.

Being overweight, Gamal did not fare well in the heat. Rarely, even in Cairo, did he wander outside at midday. Saqqara at noon was almost beyond his capabilities. As his driver followed Erica's taxi, he tried to think of ways to survive. Perhaps he could find some shade and have the driver follow Erica until she was ready to return to Cairo. Ahead, Erica's taxi pulled up and parked at the Saqqara rest house. Looking around, Gamal remembered that when he'd visited the area as a child with his parents he had walked through a scary, dark subterranean cave for bulls. Although the cave had frightened him, he still remembered that it had been deliciously cool.

“Isn't this the site of the serapeum?” he asked, touching his driver's shoulder.

“Right over there,” said the driver, pointing toward the beginning of a trench that served as an access ramp.

Gamal looked over at Erica, who had gotten out of her car and was examining the row of sphinxes leading toward the ramp. All at once Gamal knew how he'd cool off. Besides, he thought, it would be fun to see the serapeum again after so many years.

Khalifa was not happy, and he ran his hand nervously through his greasy hair. He'd decided that Gamal was
not the amateur he pretended to be. He was far too nonchalant. If he had only been sure of the boy's ultimate intention, he would have shot and delivered him alive to Yvon de Margeau. But he had to wait for Gamal to make a move. The situation was more complicated and more dangerous than he had anticipated. Khalifa screwed the silencer on the barrel of his automatic and was about to get out of the car when he saw Gamal entering a trench leading to a subterranean opening. He consulted a map. It was the serapeum. Looking back at Erica happily photographing a limestone sphinx, Khalifa knew there was only one reason why Gamal would enter the serapeum first. In one of the dark, vaulted galleries or in one of the narrow passageways, Gamal was going to wait like a poisonous snake and strike when least expected. The serapeum was a perfect assassination spot.

Despite his many years of experience, Khalifa was unsure of what to do. He too could enter before Erica Baron and try to find Gamal's hiding place, but that could be too risky. He decided he had to enter with Erica and strike first.

Erica walked down the ramp approaching the entrance. She was not fond of caves and in truth did not care for closed spaces. Even before stepping into the serapeum she could feel the damp coolness, and a tingling sensation announced the appearance of gooseflesh on her thighs. She had to force herself forward. A bedraggled Arab with a face like a hatchet took her money. The serapeum had an ominous feel.

Once inside the gloomy entrance gallery, Erica could sense the mysterious grip that aspects of ancient Egyptian culture had exerted on people through the ages. The darkened passageways looked like tunnels to the netherworld, suggesting the eerie power of the occult. Following Selim, she walked deeper and deeper into the bizarre environment. They went down an unendingly long corridor with irregular and rough-hewn walls, meagerly illuminated by infrequent low-wattage light bulbs. In the areas between the lights, dark shadows made vision
difficult. Other tourists had a way of suddenly emerging out of the gloom; voices sounded hollow and echoed repeatedly. At right angles to the main corridor were separate galleries, each containing a mammoth black sarcophagus covered with hieroglyphics. Very few of the side galleries were illuminated. Erica quickly felt she had seen enough, but Selim was insistent, saying that the best sarcophagus was at the far end and that a wooden stairway had been built, so she could even see the carvings inside. Reluctantly Erica continued behind Selim. Finally they reached the gallery in question, and Selim stepped aside for Erica to pass. She reached out to grasp the wooden handrail leading to the viewing platform.

Khalifa was a bundle of raw nerves, following close behind Erica. He had released the safety catch on his semiautomatic and again held it in his right hand beneath his jacket. He'd come within a hairbreadth of shooting several tourists when they had suddenly appeared out of the darkness.

As he rounded the corner of the last gallery, he was only fifteen feet behind Erica. The moment he saw Gamal he acted by reflex. Erica was climbing the short wooden stairway built along the side of the highly polished granite sarcophagus. Gamal was on top of the platform looking down at Erica as she climbed. He had stepped back from the edge. Unfortunately for Khalifa, she was directly between him and Gamal, shielding his view and making a quick shot impossible. In a panic Khalifa surged forward, thrusting Selim to the side. He charged up the short stairway, knocking Erica down on her knees, sending her sprawling toward the surprised Gamal.

Spurts of fiery light leaped from Khalifa's covered pistol, and the deadly slugs tore into Gamal's chest, piercing his heart. His hands started to rise. His small features twisted in pain and confusion as he teetered and fell forward on top of Erica. Khalifa vaulted over the wooden banister, pulling his knife from his belt. Selim screamed before trying to run. The tourists on the
platform still had not comprehended what had happened. Khalifa dashed across the corridor toward the electric wires responsible for the primitive lights. Gritting his teeth against a possible shock, he sliced through the wire, plunging the entire serapeum into utter darkness.