“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.