Sphinx (28 page)

 

With a violent tug Lahib Zayed felt himself pulled to his feet. Evangelos had an iron grip on the front part of his galabia. “Where is she?” he growled into the Arab's frightened face.

Stephanos Markoulis, dressed casually in an open-necked shirt, put down the small bronze figure he'd been examining and turned to the two men. “Lahib, I cannot understand why, after letting me know Erica Baron came into your shop asking for the Seti statue, you hesitate to tell me where she is.”

Lahib was terrified, uncertain who scared him the most, Muhammad or Stephanos. But feeling Evangelos' fingers tighten on his galabia, he decided it was Stephanos. “All right, I'll tell you.”

“Let him go, Evangelos.”

The Greek released his grip abruptly so that Lahib staggered backward before regaining his balance.

“Well?” asked Stephanos.

“I don't know where she is at the moment, but I know where she is staying. She has a room at the Winter Palace Hotel. But, Mr. Markoulis, the woman will be taken care of. We have made arrangements.”

“I would like to take care of her myself,” said
Stephanos. “To be sure. But don't worry, we'll be back to say good-bye. Thanks for all your help.”

Stephanos motioned to Evangelos, and the two men walked out of the shop. Lahib did not move until they had gone from view. Then he ran to the door and watched them until they had disappeared.

“There is going to be big trouble here in Luxor,” said Lahib to his son when the two Greeks were out of sight. “I want you to take your mother and sister to Aswan this afternoon. As soon as the American woman appears and I give her the message, I'll join you. I want you to go now.”

 

Stephanos Markoulis had Evangelos wait in the outer lobby of the Winter Palace Hotel while he approached the registration desk. The clerk was a handsome Nubian with ebony skin.

“Is there an Erica Baron staying here?” Stephanos asked.

The clerk turned to the daily ledger, running his finger down the names. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I'd like to leave a message. Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Of course, sir.” The clerk graciously gave Stephanos a piece of stationery, an envelope, and a pen.

Stephanos pretended to write a message. Instead he just scribbled on the paper and sealed it in the envelope. He gave it to the clerk, who turned and put it into box 218. Stephanos thanked him and went to get Evangelos. Together they walked upstairs.

There was no answer when they knocked on the door to 218, so Stephanos had Evangelos work on the lock while he stood guard. The Victorian hardware was easy to manipulate, and they were inside the room almost as fast as if they'd had the correct key. Stephanos closed the door behind him and eyed the room. “Let's search it,” he said. “Then we'll wait here until she comes back.”

“Am I going to kill her immediately?” asked Evangelos.

Stephanos smiled. “No, we'll talk to her for a little while. Only, I get to talk with her first.”

Evangelos laughed and pulled open the top drawer of the bureau. There in neat stacks were Erica's nylon panties.

 

“Are you certain?” asked Yvon in disbelief. Raoul looked up from his magazine.

“Almost positive,” said Erica, enjoying Yvon's surprise. After receiving the message in the Great Pyramid, Erica had decided to see Yvon. She knew he'd be pleased about the statue, and she was quite sure he'd be willing to take her to Luxor.

“It is almost unbelievable,” said Yvon, his blue eyes shining. “How do you know they plan to show you the Seti statue?”

“Because that's what I asked to see.”

“You are incredible,” said Yvon. “I have been doing everything possible to find that statue, and you locate it just like that.” He waved his hand in an easy gesture.

“Well, I haven't seen the statue yet,” said Erica. “I must get to the Curio Shop this afternoon, and I must go alone.”

“We can leave within the hour.” Yvon reached for the phone. He was surprised the statue was back in Luxor; in fact, it made him a little suspicious.

Erica stood up and stretched. “I've just spent the night on the train, and I'd love to shower, if you don't mind.”

Yvon gestured toward the adjoining room. Erica took her tote bag and went into the bathroom while Yvon was talking with his pilot.

Yvon completed the plans for transportation, then
checked the sound of the shower before turning to Raoul. “This possibly could be the opportunity we've been hoping for. But we need to be extremely careful. Now is when we must rely on Khalifa. Get in touch with him and let him know we'll be arriving around six-thirty. Tell him that Erica will be meeting tonight with the people we want. Tell him that there will undoubtedly be trouble and that he should be prepared. And tell him that if the girl is killed, he's finished.”

 

The small jet rolled slightly to the right, then banked gracefully, passing over the Nile valley in a wide curve about five miles north of Luxor. It passed through one thousand feet, then straightened on a heading due north. At the correct moment, Yvon cut the air speed, pulled up the nose, and landed smoothly over a cushion of air. The reverse thrust of the engines shook the plane and brought it down to taxi speed in a very short distance. Yvon left the controls to come back to talk with Erica while the pilot taxied toward the terminal.

“Now, let's go over this once more,” he said, turning one of the lounge seats around to face Erica. His voice was serious, making her uncomfortably anxious. In Cairo the idea of being taken to see the Seti statue had been exciting, but here in Luxor she felt the rumblings of fear.

“As soon as we arrive,” Yvon continued, “I want you to take a separate taxi and go directly to the Curio Antique Shop. Raoul and I will wait at the New Winter Palace Hotel, suite 200. I'm positive, though, that the statue will not be at the shop.”

Erica looked up sharply. “What do you mean it won't be there?”

“It would be too dangerous. No, the statue will be somewhere else. They will take you to it. It's the way it's done. But it will be all right.”

“The statue had been at Antica Abdul,” protested Erica.

“That was a fluke,” said Yvon. “The statue was in transit. This time I'm sure that they will take you somewhere else to see the statue. Try to remember exactly
where, so you'll be able to return. Then, when you are shown the statue, I want you to bargain with them. If you don't, they will be suspicious. But remember, I'm willing to pay what they ask, provided they can guarantee delivery outside Egypt.”

“Like via the Zurich Credit Bank?” said Erica.

“How did you know that?” asked Yvon.

“Same way I knew to go to the Curio Antique Shop,” said Erica.

“And how is that?” asked Yvon.

“I'm not going to tell you,” said Erica. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Erica, this is not a game.”

“I know it's not a game,” she said heatedly. Yvon had been making her more and more anxious. “That's exactly why I'm not going to tell you, not yet.”

Yvon studied her, perplexed. “All right,” he said at length, “but I want you to come back to my hotel as soon as possible. We can't allow the statue to go underground again. Tell them that the money can be on account within twenty-four hours.”

Erica nodded and looked out the window. Even though it was after six, shimmering heat still radiated from the tarmac. The plane came to a stop, and the engines died. She took a deep breath and unhooked her seat belt.

From an observation post near the commercial terminal, Khalifa watched the door to the small jet swing open. As soon as he saw Erica, he turned and walked quickly to a waiting car, checking his automatic before climbing into the driver's seat. Certain that tonight he was going to earn his two-hundred-dollar-a-day salary, he put the car in gear and drove toward Luxor.

Inside Erica's room at the Winter Palace, Evangelos drew his Beretta from beneath his left arm and fingered the ivory handle. “Put that thing away,” snapped Stephanos from the bed. “It makes me nervous for you to be fumbling with it. Just relax, for Christ's sake. The girl will show up. All her stuff is here.”

Driving in town, Erica considered stopping at her
hotel. There was no use carting around her camera and extra clothes. But worrying that Lahib Zayed might close his shop before she got there, she decided to go directly there, as Yvon had suggested. She had the driver stop at one end of the crowded Shari el Muntazah. The Curio Antique Shop was a half-block away.

Erica was nervous. Yvon had unknowingly magnified her misgivings about the affair. She could not help remembering that she had seen a man murdered because of this statue: what was she doing going to see it? As she drew nearer, she could see that the shop was filled with tourists, so she walked past. A few shops down, she stopped and turned, watching the entrance. Soon a group of Germans emerged, joking loudly among themselves as they joined the late-afternoon shoppers and strollers. It was now or never. Erica breathed out through pursed lips, then strode toward the shop.

After all her worry, she was surprised to find Lahib Zayed ebullient instead of furtive or surreptitious. He came out from behind the counter as if Erica were a long-lost friend. “I'm so happy to see you again, Miss Baron. I cannot tell you how happy I am.”

Erica was initially wary but Lahib's sincerity was apparent and she allowed herself to be gently hugged.

“Would you care for some tea?”

“Thank you, but no. I came as quickly as possible after I got the message.”

“Ah, yes,” said Lahib. He clapped his hands with excitement. “The statue. You are indeed very lucky, because you are to be shown a marvelous piece. A statue of Seti I as tall as yourself.” Lahib closed an eye, estimating her height.

Erica couldn't believe he was so blasé. It made her fears seem melodramatic and childish.

“Is the statue here?” asked Erica.

“Oh, no, my dear. We are showing it to you without the knowledge of the Department of Antiquities.” He winked. “So we must be reasonably careful. And since it is such a large and marvelous piece, we don't dare
have it here in Luxor. It is on the West Bank, but we can deliver it wherever your people wish.”

“How do I get to see it?” asked Erica.

“Very simple. But first you must understand that you have to go alone. We cannot show this type of piece to many people, for obvious reasons. If you are accompanied, or even followed, you will lose your chance to view it. Is that clear?”

“It is,” said Erica.

“Very well. All you have to do is cross the Nile and take a taxi to a small village called Qurna, which is located—”

“I know the village,” said Erica.

“That makes it easier,” Lahib laughed. “There is a small mosque in the village.”

“I know it,” said Erica.

“Ah, marvelous, then you should have no trouble at all. Arrive at the mosque tonight at dusk. One of the dealers like myself will meet you there and show you the statue. It's as simple as that.”

“All right,” said Erica.

“One other thing,” said Lahib. “When you reach the West Bank, it's best to hire a taxi that will wait for you below the village. Offer him an extra pound. Otherwise you'll have trouble later getting one back to the ferry landing.”

“Thank you very much,” said Erica. Lahib's concern pleased her.

Lahib watched Erica walk down Shari el Muntazah toward the Winter Palace Hotel. She turned once, and he waved. Then he quickly closed the door to the shop and secured it with a wooden beam. In a recess below one of the floorboards he hid his best antiques and ancient pottery. Then he locked the back door and left for the station. He was certain he'd make the seven-o'clock train for Aswan.

As Erica walked along the waterfront toward her hotel, she felt significantly better than she had before visiting the Curio Antique Shop. Her cloak-and-dagger expectations were unfounded. Lahib Zayed had been
open, friendly, and thoughtful, Her only disappointment was that she couldn't see the statue until evening. Erica looked up at the sky, estimating the time until sunset. She had another hour, plenty of time to return to the hotel to change into jeans for the journey to Qurna.

Approaching the majestic Temple of Luxor, which was now surrounded by the modern town, Erica suddenly stopped. She had not given any thought to her being followed. If she were, it would ruin the whole plan. Turning around quickly she scanned the street for her shadow. She'd completely forgotten the man. There were many pedestrians in sight, but no hooked-nose man in a dark suit. Erica checked her watch again. She had to know if she was being followed. Turning back to the temple, she quickly bought a ticket and walked through the passageway between the towers of the front pylon. Entering the court of Ramses II, majestically surrounded by a double row of papyrus columns, she turned immediately to the right and stepped into a small chapel for the god Amon. From here Erica could see the entrance as well as the courtyard. There were about twenty people milling around, photographing the statues of Ramses II. Erica decided to wait fifteen minutes. If no one appeared, she would forget her shadow.

She peered into the chapel to look at the reliefs. They had been carved during the time of Ramses II and lacked the quality of the work she'd seen at Abydos. She recognized the images of Amon, Mut, and Khonsu. When Erica turned her attention back to the courtyard, she was startled. Khalifa had rounded the edge of the pylon no more than five feet from where she was standing. He was equally surprised. He shot a hand into his jacket to grasp his pistol, but caught himself and withdrew his hand as his face contorted into a half-smile. Then he was gone.

Erica blinked. When she had recovered from the shock, she ran from the chapel and looked down the corridor behind the double row of columns. Khalifa had disappeared.

Pulling the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder,
Erica hurried from the temple grounds. She knew she was in trouble, that her pursuer could ruin everything. She reached the esplanade along the Nile and looked both ways. She had to lose him, and checking her watch, she realized she was running out of time.

The only time Khalifa had not followed was when she had visited the village of Qurna and hiked over a desert ridge to the Valley of the Kings. Erica thought that she could use the route in reverse. She could go to the Valley of the Kings now, then use the trail to visit Qurna, telling her taxi to wait for her at the base of the village. Then she realized the plan was ridiculous. Probably the only reason Khalifa had not followed her to the Valley of the Kings was that he knew where she was going and did not want to subject himself to the heat and effort. He'd not been fooled. If she were to really lose Khalifa, it would have to be in a crowd of people.

Checking her watch again, she had an idea. It was now almost seven. There was a seven-thirty express train to Cairo, the same train she'd taken the previous night. The station and the platform had been jammed. It was the best idea she'd had. The only trouble was that it would keep her from seeing Yvon. Perhaps she could call from the station. Erica hailed a carriage.

As she had expected, the station was swarming with travelers, and she moved with difficulty to the ticket windows. She passed an enormous stack of reed cages filled with clucking chickens. A small herd of goats and sheep were tethered to a column, and their plaintive bleating merged with the cacophony of voices that echoed in the dusty hall. Erica bought a one-way first-class ticket to Nag Hamdi. It was seven-seventeen.

It was even more difficult to walk down the platform than it had been to get to the ticket window. Erica did not look behind her. She pushed and squeezed past crying relatives until she reached the comparative quiet alongside the first-class coaches. She climbed aboard coach two, flashing her ticket to the conductor. It was seven-twenty-three.

Erica went directly to the toilet. It was closed and
locked. So was the one opposite. Without hesitation she turned into coach three and hurried down the central aisle. A toilet was free, and she entered. Locking the door and trying to breathe as little of the stench as possible, Erica undid her cotton slacks and pulled them off. Then she pulled on her jeans, banging her elbow on the sink as she wriggled into them. It was seven-twenty-nine. She heard a whistle.