Evangelos tried to decide what kind of shot he’d make. Finally, holding the gun out at arm’s length, he aimed for Erica’s neck and slowly began to pull the trigger.
Erica saw his arm extend slightly, and her eyes widened as she realized he was going to shoot even though she’d stopped as commanded. “No!”
The gun muffled by the silencer gave a soft thump. Erica felt no pain, and the image in front of her remained clear. Then the strangest thing happened. A small red flower blossomed in the center of Evangelos’ forehead, and he fell forward onto his face, the gun dropping from his hand.
Erica could not move. Her hands were motionless at her sides. Behind her she heard movement within the bushes. Then a voice: “You should not have been so clever about losing me.”
Erica slowly turned. In front of her was the man with the pointed tooth and hooked nose. “That was very close,” said Khalifa, motioning toward Evangelos. “I assume you are on your way to Monsieur de Margeau’s. You’d better hurry. There will be more trouble.”
Erica tried to speak but couldn’t. She nodded and stumbled past Khalifa, her gait unsteady on rubbery legs. She did not remember how she got to Yvon’s room.
The Frenchman opened the door, and she collapsed into his arms, mumbling about the shot, about being sealed in the tomb, about finding the statue. Yvon was calm, stroking her hair, sitting her down, telling her to start from the beginning.
She was about to begin when someone knocked at the door.
“Yes,” called Yvon, instantly alert.
“It is Khalifa.”
Yvon opened the door, and Khalifa propelled Stephanos into the room.
“You hired me to protect the girl and get the person who tried to kill her. Here he is.” Khalifa pointed toward Stephanos.
Stephanos looked at Yvon, then at Erica, who was surprised that Khalifa had been hired by Yvon to protect her, since Yvon had deliberately downplayed her risk. Erica began to feel uncomfortable.
“Look, Yvon,” said Stephanos at length. “It is ridiculous for you and me to be at odds with each other. You’re angry at me because I sold the first Seti statue to the man from Houston. But all I did was get the statue from Egypt to Switzerland. There really is no competition between us. You want to control the black market. Fine. I just want to protect my corner. I can get your stuff out of Egypt with a time-tested method. We should work together.”
Erica looked quickly at Yvon to see his reaction. She wanted to hear him laugh and tell Stephanos that he was all wrong, that he, Yvon, wanted to destroy the black market.
Yvon ran his fingers through his hair. “Why were you threatening Erica?” he asked.
“Because she had learned too much from Abdul Hamdi. I wanted to protect my route. But if you two are working together, then everything’s fine.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with Hamdi’s death and the disappearance of the second statue?” asked Yvon.
“No,” said Stephanos. “I swear it. I hadn’t even heard about the second Seti statue. That was what worried me. I was afraid I was being closed out and that Hamdi’s letter would get to the police.”
Closing her eyes, Erica let the truth sweep over her. Yvon was no crusader. His idea of controlling the black market meant controlling it for his own ends, not for the benefit of science, Egypt, or the world. His passion for antiquities superseded any moral issue. Erica had been duped, and more aggravating still, she could have been killed. Her fingernails dug into the couch. She knew she had to get away. She had to tell Ahmed about Seti’s tomb.
“Stephanos did not kill Abdul Hamdi,” said Erica suddenly. “The people who killed Abdul Hamdi are the people here in Luxor who control the source of the antiquities. The Seti statue was brought back here to Luxor. I’ve seen it and I can lead us to it.” She was careful to use the word “us.”
Yvon looked back at Erica, a little surprised by her sudden recovery. She smiled at him reassuringly. Her instincts for self-preservation gave her unexpected power. “Furthermore,” said Erica, “Stephanos’ route through Yugoslavia is far better than trying to get things from Alexandria in cotton bales.”
Stephanos nodded as he began talking with Yvon. “Smart woman. And she’s right. My method is far better than packing antiquities in cotton bales. Was that really what you had planned? My God, it would last for one or two shipments at the most.”
Erica stretched. She knew that she had to convince Yvon that she had personal interests in antiquities. “Tomorrow I can show you the location of the Seti statue.”
“Where is it?” asked Yvon.
“In one of the unmarked tombs of the nobles on the West Bank. It is very difficult to describe its location. I’ll have to show you. It’s above the village of Qurna. And there are a number of other very interesting pieces.” Erica fished in the pocket of her jeans for the gold Seti pendant. She pulled it out and tossed it casually onto a table. “My fee for finding the Seti statue will be for Stephanos to get this pendant out of the country for me.”
“This is exquisite,” Yvon said, examining the necklace.
“There are many more pieces there, some much better than that. The pendant was the one I could afford. Now, I for one would like to bathe and get some rest. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had quite a night.” Erica went over to Yvon and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was the hardest thing she’d done. She thanked Khalifa for helping her in the garden. Then she boldly walked to the door.
“Erica…” said Yvon calmly.
She turned. “Yes?”
There was a silence. “Perhaps you should stay here,” said Yvon. It was apparent he was debating what to do with her.
“Tonight, I’m too tired,” said Erica. The implication was obvious. Stephanos smiled behind his hand.
“Raoul,” called Yvon, “I want to make sure Miss Baron is safe tonight.”
“I think I’ll be fine,” said Erica, opening the door.
“Just to be sure,” said Yvon, “I want Raoul to go with you.”
Evangelos’ body was still lying in the moonlight by the pool as Erica and Raoul walked back toward the Winter Palace. He looked like he was sleeping, except for the pool of dark blood that ran from under his head and dripped into the water. Erica averted her face as Raoul went over and checked to see if Evangelos was really dead. Suddenly she noticed Evangelos’ semiautomatic pistol still lying on the tiles.
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!