Erica stole a glance at Raoul. He was struggling to turn Evangelos over. Without looking at Erica, he spoke. “God, Khalifa is fantastic. He got him between the eyes.”

Erica reached down and picked up the gun. It was heavier than she expected. Her finger curled around the trigger. She detested the instrument, and it frightened her. She had never held a gun before, and the knowledge of its lethal capabilities made her tremble. She did not delude herself. She knew she could never pull the trigger, but she turned and looked at Raoul, who was standing up and brushing his hands. “He was dead before he hit the ground,” said Raoul, turning toward Erica. “Ah, I see you found his gun. Hand it to me and I’ll put it in his hand.”

“Don’t move,” said Erica slowly.

Raoul’s eyes danced back and forth between the gun and Erica’s face. “Erica what-?”

“Shut up. Take off your jacket.”

Raoul complied, tossing his blazer on the ground.

“Now, pull your shirt over your head” commanded Erica.

“Erica…” said Raoul.

“Now!” She extended Evangelos’ gun to arm’s length.

Raoul yanked his shirt from his trousers and with some difficulty pulled it over his head. Beneath his shirt he had on a sleeveless undershirt. Strapped under his left was a small pistol. Erica moved around behind him and took the gun from the holster. She threw it into the pool. Hearing it hit the water, she hesitated, fearful Raoul would be angry. Then the absurdity of the idea caught her. Of course he was going to be angry. She was holding a gun on him!

She had Raoul replace his shirt so he could see where he was going. Then she ordered him to walk around to the front of the hotel. He tried to talk, and she told him again to shut up. Erica thought how ridiculously easy it was in gangster movies to incapacitate a man by hitting nothing. If Raoul had turned around, he could have taken the gun. But he didn’t, and they walked single file through the shadows around to the front of the hotel.

Several antique street lights cast a pale glow over a row of taxis parked along the curb of the curved driveway. The drivers had long since departed for the night, their principal job being to run back and forth between the hotel and the airport. But since the last flight arrived at nine-ten P.M., there was nothing for them to do. Tourists preferred the romantic carriages for transport in and around the town.

With Evangelos’ gun trembling in her hand, Erica marched Raoul along the line of aged taxis, glancing in at the ignitions. Most of the keys were in place. She wanted to get to Ahmed, but had to decide what to do with Raoul.

The lead car was similar to the others, with the exception of tassels lining the rear window. The keys were in the ignition.

“Lie down,” commanded Erica. She was terrified someone would walk out of the hotel.

Raoul took it upon himself to step sideways onto the close-clipped lawn.

“Hurry up!” said Erica, trying to sound angry.

Leaning on his palms, Raoul lay down. He kept his hands under him, ready to spring, his confusion dissolving into anger.

“Arms out in front of you,” said Erica. She opened the door to the taxi and got in behind the vinyl-coated steering wheel. A pair of soft red plastic dice hung from the dash.

The engine turned over agonizingly slowly, belched black smoke, then caught. Keeping the gun on Raoul, Erica searched for the headlight switch and flipped it on. Then she threw the pistol on the seat next to her and put the car in gear. It lurched forward and bucked dramatically, bouncing the pistol from the seat to the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye Erica saw Raoul leap to his feet and rush toward the taxi. She played with the accelerator and clutch, trying to ease the bucking and gain speed as he jumped on the back bumper and grabbed the closed trunk.

The car was in second gear when Erica pulled out onto the broad illuminated boulevard. There was no other traffic, and she accelerated as fast as she could past the Temple of Luxor. When the motor was racing, Erica forced the gearshift into third. She had no idea of the speed because the speedometer was not functioning. In the rearview mirror she could see Raoul still clinging to the trunk. His dark hair was blowing wildly in the wind. Erica wanted to get him off the car.

She threw the steering wheel from side to side. The taxi careened in a serpentine manner, its tires screeching. But Raoul pressed himself against the back of the car and managed to hold on.

Erica put the car in fourth gear and pressed on the accelerator. The taxi leaped forward but developed a shimmy in the right-front tire. The vibration was so violent that she had to hold the steering wheel tightly with both hands as she shot past the two ministers’ houses. The soldiers on guard just smiled at seeing the shuddering taxi speed by with a man clinging to the trunk.

Jamming on the brakes, Erica brought the car to a sudden stop. Raoul slid up onto the back window. Down-shifting to first, Erica again accelerated, but Raoul continued to hang on, grasping the rear doorframes. Erica could still see him in the mirror, so she deliberately drove onto the shoulder of the road, seeking out potholes, which the car hit with jarring force. The passenger door on the right sprang open. The red dice fell from the dash.

Raoul was now lying on the trunk with his arms spanning the back window, each hand holding a doorframe through the missing windows of the rear doors. The impact with each pothole made his head and body slam up against the back of the car. He was determined to stay with Erica. He thought she’d gone crazy.

At the turnoff to Ahmed’s, the headlights of the taxi illuminated a mud-brick wall at the side of the road. Erica screeched to a stop and threw the car into reverse. The sudden stop caused Raoul to slide up on top of the car. He grabbed for a handhold, his left hand grasping the doorframe next to Erica’s face.

Erica accelerated backward, the car weaving wildly before ramming the wall. Her neck snapped back like a whip. The right-front door swung open to its limit, almost pulling it from its hinges. Raoul hung on.

Throwing the shift into first, Erica forced the car to leap forward. The sudden acceleration caused the right front door to close, slamming on Raoul’s hand.

He cried out from the pain and jerked his hand back by reflex. At the same moment, the car hit the asphalt lip of the road, and the jolt tossed Raoul into the sand by the roadside. Almost the instant he hit the ground he regained his feet. Supporting his throbbing hand, he ran after Erica, noticing that she was pulling up at a low whitewashed mud-brick house. He came to a stop as she dashed from the car toward the front door. After making sure he knew exactly where he was, he turned around and headed back to get Yvon.

Erica was afraid Raoul was right behind her when she reached Ahmed’s door. It was unlocked, and she burst through, leaving the door ajar. She had to convince Ahmed as quickly as possible of the conspiracy so that adequate police protection could be arranged.

Running directly into the living room, she was overjoyed to see Ahmed still up, conversing with a friend. “I’m being followed,” shouted Erica.

Ahmed leaped to his feet, dumbfounded when he recognized Erica.

“Quickly,” she continued, “we must have help.”

Ahmed recovered enough to dash past her and out the open doorway. Erica turned to Ahmed’s companion to ask him to summon the police. Her mouth started to open, but then her eyes widened with astonishment and fear.

Closing the door behind him, Ahmed returned and swept Erica into his arms. “It’s all clear, Erica,” he said. “It’s all clear and you are safe. Let me look at you. I don’t believe it; it is a miracle.”

But Erica didn’t respond, just strained to see over Ahmed’s shoulder. Her blood ran cold. She was looking at Muhammad Abdulal! Now both she and Ahmed would be killed. She could tell that Muhammad was equally astonished to see her, but he collected himself and unleashed a torrent of angry Arabic.