Robin Cook - Sphinx

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.”

“Did you bring them?”

“No, they are at the hotel. There wasn’t time.”

“Yvon, I’m leaving for Luxor. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Erica, you can go to Luxor whenever you wish. I have a plane. I can fly you there tomorrow.”