Sphinx (20 page)

Suddenly shots rang out, and the deadly sound of ricocheting bullets echoed through the marbled enclosure. Erica and Richard as well as Stephanos and Evangelos ducked down, not even knowing in which direction the danger lay. “Khalifa!” rasped Evangelos.

Other screams penetrated the prayer room, followed by a kind of vibration. All at once Erica realized it was the sound of running feet. The groups of students had stood up and were facing north. Suddenly they turned and ran. Bearing down on her was a crowd of panicked people fleeing through the forest of columns. There were more shots. The crowd became a stampede.

Ignoring the two Greeks, Erica and Richard jumped to their feet and fled southward, racing hand in hand around the columns, trying to stay ahead of the panicky horde that pressed behind them. They ran blindly until they reached the end of the hall. A few of the students passed them, wide-eyed with terror, as if the building were on fire. Erica and Richard followed them as they ducked through a low door and ran down a stone passageway. It opened into a mausoleum; beyond was an opening where a heavy wooden door was ajar, leading to the outside. They ran out into the dusty street, where an excited crowd had already gathered. Erica and Richard did not join it, but slowed to a fast walk and left the area.

“This place is insane,” said Richard, his voice more angry than relieved. “What the hell was going on in there?” He didn't expect an answer, and Erica did not respond. For three days in a row she had been forced to witness unexpected violence, and on each occasion the attack had seemed more closely associated with her. Coincidence was no longer a viable explanation.

Richard gripped her hand, pulling her behind him through the crowded streets. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the Al Azhar mosque.

“Richard . . .” said Erica finally, holding her side. “Richard, let's slow down.”

They stopped in front of a tailor shop. Richard's mouth was set in anger. “This Stephanos, did you have any idea he'd be armed?”

“I was somewhat concerned about meeting him, but I—”

“Just answer the question, Erica. Did you think he would be armed?”

“I did not even consider it.” She did not like Richard's tone of voice.

“Obviously it was something you should have considered. Anyway, who is this Stephanos Markoulis?”

“He is an antiquities dealer from Athens. Apparently he's involved in the black market.”

“And how was the meeting, if you can call it that, arranged?”

“A friend asked me if I'd see Stephanos.”

“And who is this wonderful friend who sends you into the hands of a gangster?”

“His name is Yvon de Margeau. He's French.”

“And what kind of friend is he?”

Erica looked at Richard's face, now flushed with anger. Still trembling from their experience, Erica did not know how to cope with his emotion.

“I'm sorry about what happened,” she said, with mixed feelings about apologizing.

“Well,” said Richard crossly, “I could repeat what you said last night when I tried to apologize about scaring you. Saying ‘sorry' is supposed to make everything okay, but it doesn't. You could have gotten us killed. I think your escapade has gone far enough. We're going to the American embassy and you're coming back to Boston if I have to drag you on the plane by your hair.”

“Richard . . .” said Erica, shaking her head.

An empty taxi was slowly picking its way along the
crowded streets. Richard saw the car over Erica's shoulder and hailed it as the crowds reluctantly parted. They climbed into the back seat without speaking, and Richard told the driver to go to the Hilton Hotel. Erica felt a combination of anger and despair. If Richard had taken it upon himself to direct the driver to the American embassy, she would have gotten out of the car.

After ten minutes of silence, Richard finally spoke. His voice had mellowed slightly. “The fact is that you are not equipped for this kind of affair. You have to recognize that.”

“With my background in Egyptology,” snapped Erica, “I think I'm superbly equipped.” Locked in traffic, the taxi inched past one of Cairo's huge medieval gates, and Erica studied it first through the side, then the rear window.

“Egyptology is the study of a dead civilization,” said Richard, lifting his hand in the air as if to pat her knee. “It has no relevance to the current problem.”

Erica looked over at Richard. “Dead civilization . . . no relevance.” The words confirmed Richard's concept of her work. It was belittling and infuriating.

“You are trained as an academician,” continued Richard, “and I think you should accept that fact. This cloak-and-dagger routine is childish and dangerous. It's a ridiculous risk for a statue, any statue.”

“This isn't just any statue,” said Erica angrily. “Besides, the issue is much more involved than you are willing to comprehend.”

“I think it's all too obvious. A statue worth a lot of money is unearthed. Such sums can explain all sorts of behavior. But it's a problem for the authorities, not tourists.”

Erica clenched her teeth, bristling at the label “tourist.” As the taxi started to move more quickly, she tried to understand why Yvon had allowed her to meet with Stephanos. Nothing seemed to make any sense, and she tried to decide what to do next. She had no intention of giving up, no matter what Richard said. Abdul Hamdi
seemed to be the pivot. Then she remembered his son and her earlier resolve to visit his antique shop in Luxor.

Richard leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Do you speak English?”

The driver nodded. “A little.”

“Do you know where the American embassy is?”

“Yes,” said the driver. He looked at Richard in the rearview mirror.

“We are not going to the American embassy,” said Erica, pronouncing each word carefully and loudly enough for the driver to hear.

“I'm afraid I'm going to insist,” said Richard. He turned to speak to the driver.

“You can insist on whatever you want,” Erica said evenly, “but that's not where I'm going. Driver, stop the car.” She moved forward on the seat, pulling her tote bag onto her shoulder.

“Keep driving,” Richard instructed, trying to pull Erica back into her seat.

“Stop the taxi!” Erica shouted.

The driver complied, pulling over to the side. Erica had the door open before the car reached a standstill, and leaped to the sidewalk.

Richard followed, leaving the taxi unpaid. The irate driver drove slowly alongside as Richard overtook Erica and caught her arm. “It is time to stop this adolescent behavior,” he shouted, as if threatening an errant child. “We are going to the American embassy. You're over your head. You're going to get hurt.”

“Richard,” said Erica, tapping his chin with her index finger, “you go to the American embassy if you want. I'm going to Luxor. Believe me, the embassy can do nothing at all about this, even if they were so inclined. I'm going to go to Upper Egypt and do what I came here for.”

“Erica, if you persist, I'm going to leave. I'll go back to Boston. I mean it. I've come all the way over here, and it doesn't seem to matter to you. I just cannot believe it.”

Erica didn't say anything. She just wanted him to leave.

“And if I do leave, I don't know what will happen to our relationship.”

“Richard,” said Erica quietly, “I
am
going to Upper Egypt.”

 

With the afternoon sun low in the sky, the Nile appeared like a flat ribbon of silver. Sudden highlights sparkled from the surface where gusts of wind stirred the water. Erica had to shield her eyes from the sun to distinguish the timeless form of the pyramids. The sphinx looked as if it were made of gold. She was standing on the balcony of her room at the Hilton. It was almost time to leave. The management had been overjoyed at her decision to vacate her room, because as usual, they had overbooked. Erica had packed and her single suitcase was ready. The travel desk in the lobby had arranged a booking for her on the seven-thirty sleeper south.

The thought of the trip managed to dull the fear of the last few days and alleviate her feelings about fighting with Richard. The Temple of Karnak, the Valley of the Kings, Abu Simbel, Dendera—these were the reasons she had come to Egypt. She would go south, see Abdul's son, but concentrate on viewing the fabled monuments at first hand. She was glad Richard had decided to leave. She would not think about their relationship until she returned home. Then they would see.

Checking the bathroom for the final time, Erica was rewarded by finding her cream rinse behind the shower curtain. She shoved it in her bag and checked the time. It was a quarter to six. She was about to leave for the train station when the phone rang. It was Yvon.

“Did you see Stephanos?” he asked cheerfully.

“I did,” said Erica. She allowed an awkward pause. She had not called because she was angry he had subjected her to such danger.

“Well, what did he say?” asked Yvon.

“Very little. It was what he did that was important. He had a gun. We had just met at the Al Azhar mosque when a huge bald man appeared who looked like he'd
been beaten. He told Stephanos that someone named Khalifa was there. Then all hell broke loose. Yvon, how could you have asked me to meet such a man?”

“My God,” said Yvon. “Erica, I want you to stay in your room until I call back.”

“I'm sorry, Yvon, but I was just leaving. In fact, I'm leaving Cairo.”

“Leaving! I thought you were officially detained,” said Yvon with surprise.

“I'm not supposed to leave the country,” said Erica. “I called Ahmed Khazzan's office and informed them I was going to Luxor. It was fine with them.”

“Erica, stay until I call back. Is your . . . boyfriend planning on going with you?”

“He's returning to the States. He was as upset about meeting Stephanos as I was. Thanks for calling, Yvon. Keep in touch.” Erica hung up the phone very deliberately. She knew Yvon had used her as bait in some way. Although she believed in Yvon's crusade against the antiquities black market, she did not like being used. The phone rang again but she ignored it.

It took over an hour for the taxi to go from the Hilton to the central railway station. Although Erica had carefully showered for the trip, within fifteen minutes her blouse was soaked with perspiration and her back stuck to the hot vinyl seat cover.

The railway station stood in a busy square behind an ancient statue of Ramses II, whose timeless appearance was in sharp contrast to the mad rush-hour commotion. The inside of the station was jammed with people, ranging from businessmen in Western clothes to farmers carrying empty produce containers. Although Erica was aware of some stares, no one tried to accost her, and she moved easily through the crowds. There was a short line in front of the sleeping-car window, and Erica had no trouble purchasing her ticket. She planned to break her trip at a small village called Balianeh and do a little sightseeing.

At the large kiosk she bought a two-day-old
Herald Tribune,
an Italian fashion magazine, and several popular
books on the discovery of Tutankhamen's tomb. She even bought another copy of Carter's book, even though she'd read it many times.

The time passed quickly, and she heard her train announced. A Nubian porter with a wonderful smile took her bag and stowed it at the foot of her berth. The porter told her that they did not expect the car to be full, so she could spread her things out over two seats. She put her tote on the floor and leaned back with the
Herald Tribune.

“Hello,” said a pleasant voice, slightly startling her.

“Yvon,” she said, truly surprised.

“Hello, Erica. I'm amazed I found you. May I sit down?”

Erica picked up her reading material from the seat next to her.

“I took a chance you were going south by train. All the flights had been booked for some time.”

Erica gave a half-smile. Although she was still angry, she couldn't help but be a little flattered that Yvon had followed her, obviously with some effort. His hair was disheveled, as if he had been running.

“Erica, I want to apologize for whatever happened when you met Stephanos.”

“Nothing really happened. What bothered me was what could have happened. You must have had some idea, because you said to meet him in a public place.”

“Indeed I did, but I was only concerned because of Stephanos' reputation with women. I didn't want you to be subjected to any uncomfortable overtures.”

The train lurched slightly, and Yvon stood, looking up and down the aisle. Satisfied that the train was not pulling out, he sat back down.

“I still owe you a dinner,” said Yvon. “That was our deal. Please stay in Cairo. I have learned some things about the killers of Abdul Hamdi.”

“What?” asked Erica.

“That they were not from Cairo. I have some photos I'd like you to see. Perhaps you could recognize one.”