Suddenly he opened his eyes. The official portrait of a smiling Sadat erased the warm memories. The present reasserted itself, and Ahmed sighed. He then laughed at himself. Indulging in such memories was unusual for him. He knew that his responsibilities in the department and within his family offered little room for such sentimental thoughts. To get to his present position had been a struggle, and now he was very close to his ultimate goal.

Ahmed picked up the memorandum about the Valley of the Kings and again tried to read. But his mind would not cooperate; it kept wandering back to Erica Baron. He thought of her transparency during the interrogation. He knew that such responses were not weaknesses but rather evidence of sensitivity. At the same time, he was thoroughly convinced that Erica knew nothing of importance.

Suddenly Ahmed remembered the words of the assistant who had originally reported that Yvon de Margeau had dined with Erica. He’d said that de Margeau had taken her to the Casino de Monte Bello and that the setting looked very romantic.

Ahmed stood up and paced the room. He felt angry without knowing why. What was de Margeau doing in Egypt? Was he going to buy more antiquities? On his previous visits, Ahmed had not been able to keep him under adequate observation. Now there was possibly a way. If Erica’s relationship with de Margeau grew, he could follow the man through Erica.

He picked up the phone and called his second in command, Zaki Riad, and ordered him to have Erica Baron followed twenty-four hours a day, starting in the morning. He also told Riad that he wanted the individual assigned to report directly to him. “I want to know where she goes and whom she meets. Everything.”

It was an unfamiliar jangle that made Erica sit bolt upright. At first she had no idea where she was: there was a sound of water, and she was dressed only in her underpants. The harsh metallic sound recurred, and she realized she was in her hotel and that the phone was ringing. The sound of water was the shower, still running. She had fallen asleep on top of the bedspread with all the lights blazing.

Her mind was still foggy when she picked up the receiver. The operator said that her call to America was ready. After several distant sounds the phone went dead. She shouted hello several times; then, shrugging her shoulders, she hung up and went into the bathroom to turn off the shower. A casual glance in the mirror unnerved her. She looked terrible. Her eyes were red, her lids puffy, and the pimple on her chin had come to a head.

The phone rang again, and she ran back to the bedroom to pick it up.

“I’m so glad you called, dear. How was the trip?” Richard sounded pleased on the other end.

“Terrible,” said Erica.

“Terrible? What’s wrong?” Richard was instantly alarmed. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It just hasn’t been what I expected,” said Erica. At once, sensing Richard’s overprotectiveness, she decided that it probably had been a mistake to call him. But having already committed herself, she told him about the statue and the murder, about her terror, about Yvon and then Ahmed.

“My God,” said Richard, obviously aghast. “Erica, I want you to come home immediately, the next flight!” There was a pause. “Erica, did you hear me?”

Erica pushed her hair back. Richard’s command had a negative effect. He was not in a position to give her orders, no matter what his motivation.

“I’m not ready to leave Egypt,” she said evenly.

“Look, Erica, you’ve made your point. There’s no need to drag it out, especially if you are in danger.”

“I’m not in danger,” Erica said flatly, “and what point are you referring to?”

“Your independence. I understand. You don’t have to continue your acting-out.”

“Richard, I don’t think you understand. It’s not that simple. I’m not acting-out. Ancient Egypt means a great deal to me. I’ve dreamed of visiting the pyramids since I was a child. I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Well, I think you are being foolish.”

“Frankly, I don’t think this is a proper topic for a transatlantic call. You keep forgetting that besides being a woman I’m an Egyptologist. I’ve spent eight years of my life studying for my degree, and I’m vitally interested in what I’m doing. It’s important to me.” Erica could feel herself getting angry all over again.

“More important than our relationship?” asked Richard somewhere between being hurt and being angry.

“As important as your medicine is to you.”

“Medicine and Egyptology are very different.”

“Of course, but what you forget is that people can approach Egyptology with the same commitment that you apply to medicine. But I’m not going to talk any more about this now, and I’m not coming back to Boston. Not yet.”

“Then I will come over to Egypt,” said Richard magnanimously.

“No,” said Erica simply.

“No?”

“That’s what I said-no. Do not come to Egypt. Please. If you want to do something for me, phone my boss, Dr. Herbert Lowery, and ask him to call me here as soon as possible. Apparently it is much easier to call into Egypt than out.”

“I’d be happy to call Lowery, but are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” asked Richard, amazed at the rebuff.

“I’m sure,” said Erica before saying good-bye and terminating the conversation.

When the phone rang again just after four A.M., Erica was not jolted as she had been earlier. However, she was afraid it was Richard calling back, and she let it ring several times, deciding exactly what she would say. But it wasn’t Richard. It was Dr. Herbert Lowery.

“Erica, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Dr. Lowery. Just fine.”

“Richard seemed very upset when he called about an hour ago. He said you wanted me to call.”

“That’s right, Dr. Lowery. I can explain,” said Erica, sitting up to help herself wake up. “I wanted to talk to you about something astounding, and I was told that it was easier to call into Cairo than out. Did Richard tell you anything about my first day here?”

“No. He said you’d had some trouble. That was all.”

“Trouble is hardly the word,” said Erica. She quickly sketched the events of the day for Dr. Lowery. Then, with as much detail as she could remember, she described the Seti I statue.

“Unbelievable,” said Dr. Lowery when Erica had finished. “Actually, I have seen the Houston statue. The man who bought it is indecently rich, and he had both Leonard from the Met and me flown down to Houston in his 707 to authenticate it. We both agreed it was the finest sculpture ever found in Egypt. I thought it probably came from Abydos or Luxor. Its condition was astounding. It was hard to believe it had been buried for three thousand years. Anyway, what you describe sounds like a mate.”

“Did the Houston statue have hieroglyphics cut into the base?” asked Erica.

“It did, indeed,” said Dr. Lowery. “It had some very typical religious exhortation, but it also had a very curious bit of hieroglyphics at the base.”

“So did the one I saw,” added Erica excitedly.

“It was very difficult to translate,” said Lowery, “but it said something like ‘Eternal peace granted to Seti I, who ruled after Tutankhamen.’ ”

“Fantastic,” said Erica. “The one I saw also had the names Seti I and Tutankhamen. I was sure of it, but it’s so weird.”

“I agree it doesn’t make any sense for Tutankhamen’s name to appear. In fact, Leonard and I wondered about the authenticity of the statue when we saw that. But there was no doubt it was real. Did you notice which of Seti I’s names was used?”

“I think it was his name associated with the god Osiris,” said Erica. “Wait, I can tell you for sure.” Erica suddenly remembered the scarab Abdul Hamdi had given her. She ran over to the pants she’d draped over a chair. The scarab was still in the pocket.