“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.”

Erica looked down at her hands. Despite her anger, despite her misgivings, she could feel her resolve weakening. At the same time, she was tired of being protected, taken care of.

“Thank you for the offer, Yvon, but I think I’ll go by train. I’ll call you from Luxor.”

There was the sound of a whistle. It was seven-thirty.

“Erica…” said Yvon, but the train began to move forward. “All right. Call from Luxor. Perhaps I’ll see you there.” He dashed down the aisle and jumped from the train, which was now picking up speed.

“Damn,” said Yvon as he watched the train slide from the station. He turned into the busy waiting room. By the exit he met Khalifa.

“Why aren’t you on that train?” snapped Yvon.

Khalifa smiled slyly. “I was told to follow the girl in Cairo. Nothing was said about taking a train to the south.”

“Christ,” said Yvon, walking toward a side door. “Follow me.”

Raoul was waiting in the car. He started the engine when he saw Yvon. Yvon held open a rear door for Khalifa then climbed in after him.

“What happened in the mosque?” asked Yvon as they pulled out into the traffic.

“Trouble,” said Khalifa. “The girl met Stephanos, but Stephanos had posted a guard. In order to protect her, I had to break up the meeting. I had no choice. It was a bad location, almost as bad as the serapeum yesterday. But in deference to your sensibilities, there was no killing. I shouted a few times and fired off a couple of shots and cleared out the whole mosque.” Khalifa laughed contemptuously.

“Thank you for considering my sensibilities. But tell me, did Stephanos threaten or make any move against Erica Baron?”

“I don’t know,” said Khalifa.

“But that was what you were supposed to find out,” said Yvon.

“I was supposed to protect the girl, then learn what I could,” said Khalifa. “Under the circumstances, protecting the girl took all my attention.”

Yvon turned his head and watched a bicyclist go by, balancing a large tray of bread on his head and making better time than they were in the car. Yvon felt frustrated. Things were going poorly, and now Erica Baron, his last hope for the Seti statue, had left Cairo. He looked at Khalifa. “I hope you’re ready to travel, because you’re going to Luxor tonight by air.”

“Whatever you say,” said Khalifa. “This job is getting interesting.”

Day 4

“Balianeh in one hour,” said the porter through the curtain of her berth.

“Thank you,” said Erica, sitting up and pulling back the drape covering a small window. Outside, it was very early daybreak. The sky was a light purple and she could see low desert mountains in the distance. The train was moving rapidly, with slight to-and-fro movements. The tracks ran right along the edge of the Libyan desert.

Erica washed at her small sink and put on a bit of makeup. The night before, she’d tried to read one of the books on Tutankhamen that she’d purchased at the station, but the train’s movements had cradled her instantly asleep. It was some time in the middle of the night that she had awakened long enough to turn off the reading light.

They served an English breakfast in the dining car as the first tentative rays of sunlight cleared the eastern horizon. As she watched, the sky changed from purple to a clear light blue. It was incredibly beautiful.

Sipping her coffee, Erica felt as if a burden had lifted from her shoulders; in its place was a euphoric sense of freedom. She felt as if the train were hurtling her back in time, back to ancient Egypt and the land of the pharaohs.

It was a little after six when she detrained at Balianeh. Very few passengers got off, and the train departed as soon as the last foot touched the platform. With some difficulty Erica checked her suitcase at a baggage window, then walked out of the station into the bright bustle of the small rural town. There was a gaiety in the air. The people seemed much happier than the oppressive crowds of Cairo. But it was hotter. Even this early in the morning Erica could feel the difference.