Suddenly shots rang out, and the deadly sound of ricocheting bullets echoed through the marbled enclosure. Erica and Richard as well as Stephanos and Evangelos ducked down, not even knowing in which direction the danger lay. “Khalifa!” rasped Evangelos.
Other screams penetrated the prayer room, followed by a kind of vibration. All at once Erica realized it was the sound of running feet. The groups of students had stood up and were facing north. Suddenly they turned and ran. Bearing down on her was a crowd of panicked people fleeing through the forest of columns. There were more shots. The crowd became a stampede.
Ignoring the two Greeks, Erica and Richard jumped to their feet and fled southward, racing hand in hand around the columns, trying to stay ahead of the panicky horde that pressed behind them. They ran blindly until they reached the end of the hall. A few of the students passed them, wide-eyed with terror, as if the building were on fire. Erica and Richard followed them as they ducked through a low door and ran down a stone passageway. It opened into a mausoleum; beyond was an opening where a heavy wooden door was ajar, leading to the outside. They ran out into the dusty street, where an excited crowd had already gathered. Erica and Richard did not join it, but slowed to a fast walk and left the area.
“This place is insane,” said Richard, his voice more angry than relieved. “What the hell was going on in there?” He didn’t expect an answer, and Erica did not respond. For three days in a row she had been forced to witness unexpected violence, and on each occasion the attack had seemed more closely associated with her. Coincidence was no longer a viable explanation.
Richard gripped her hand, pulling her behind him through the crowded streets. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the Al Azhar mosque.
“Richard…” said Erica finally, holding her side. “Richard, let’s slow down.”
They stopped in front of a tailor shop. Richard’s mouth was set in anger. “This Stephanos, did you have any idea he’d be armed?”
“I was somewhat concerned about meeting him, but I-”
“Just answer the question, Erica. Did you think he would be armed?”
“I did not even consider it.” She did not like Richard’s tone of voice.
“Obviously it was something you should have considered. Anyway, who is this Stephanos Markoulis?”
“He is an antiquities dealer from Athens. Apparently he’s involved in the black market.”
“And how was the meeting, if you can call it that, arranged?”
“A friend asked me if I’d see Stephanos.”
“And who is this wonderful friend who sends you into the hands of a gangster?”
“His name is Yvon de Margeau. He’s French.”
“And what kind of friend is he?”
Erica looked at Richard’s face, now flushed with anger. Still trembling from their experience, Erica did not know how to cope with his emotion.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” she said, with mixed feelings about apologizing.
“Well,” said Richard crossly, “I could repeat what you said last night when I tried to apologize about scaring you. Saying ‘sorry’ is supposed to make everything okay, but it doesn’t. You could have gotten us killed. I think your escapade has gone far enough. We’re going to the American embassy and you’re coming back to Boston if I have to drag you on the plane by your hair.”
“Richard…” said Erica, shaking her head.
An empty taxi was slowly picking its way along the crowded streets. Richard saw the car over Erica’s shoulder and hailed it as the crowds reluctantly parted. They climbed into the back seat without speaking, and Richard told the driver to go to the Hilton Hotel. Erica felt a combination of anger and despair. If Richard had taken it upon himself to direct the driver to the American embassy, she would have gotten out of the car.
After ten minutes of silence, Richard finally spoke. His voice had mellowed slightly. “The fact is that you are not equipped for this kind of affair. You have to recognize that.”
“With my background in Egyptology,” snapped Erica, “I think I’m superbly equipped.” Locked in traffic, the taxi inched past one of Cairo’s huge medieval gates, and Erica studied it first through the side, then the rear window.
“Egyptology is the study of a dead civilization,” said Richard, lifting his hand in the air as if to pat her knee. “It has no relevance to the current problem.”
Erica looked over at Richard. “Dead civilization… no relevance.” The words confirmed Richard’s concept of her work. It was belittling and infuriating.
“You are trained as an academician,” continued Richard, “and I think you should accept that fact. This cloak-and-dagger routine is childish and dangerous. It’s a ridiculous risk for a statue, any statue.”
“This isn’t just any statue,” said Erica angrily. “Besides, the issue is much more involved than you are willing to comprehend.”
“I think it’s all too obvious. A statue worth a lot of money is unearthed. Such sums can explain all sorts of behavior. But it’s a problem for the authorities, not tourists.”
Erica clenched her teeth, bristling at the label “tourist.” As the taxi started to move more quickly, she tried to understand why Yvon had allowed her to meet with Stephanos. Nothing seemed to make any sense, and she tried to decide what to do next. She had no intention of giving up, no matter what Richard said. Abdul Hamdi seemed to be the pivot. Then she remembered his son and her earlier resolve to visit his antique shop in Luxor.
Richard leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Do you speak English?”
The driver nodded. “A little.”
“Do you know where the American embassy is?”
“Yes,” said the driver. He looked at Richard in the rearview mirror.
“We are not going to the American embassy,” said Erica, pronouncing each word carefully and loudly enough for the driver to hear.
“I’m afraid I’m going to insist,” said Richard. He turned to speak to the driver.
“You can insist on whatever you want,” Erica said evenly, “but that’s not where I’m going. Driver, stop the car.” She moved forward on the seat, pulling her tote bag onto her shoulder.
“Keep driving,” Richard instructed, trying to pull Erica back into her seat.
“Stop the taxi!” Erica shouted.
The driver complied, pulling over to the side. Erica had the door open before the car reached a standstill, and leaped to the sidewalk.
Richard followed, leaving the taxi unpaid. The irate driver drove slowly alongside as Richard overtook Erica and caught her arm. “It is time to stop this adolescent behavior,” he shouted, as if threatening an errant child. “We are going to the American embassy. You’re over your head. You’re going to get hurt.”
“Richard,” said Erica, tapping his chin with her index finger, “you go to the American embassy if you want. I’m going to Luxor. Believe me, the embassy can do nothing at all about this, even if they were so inclined. I’m going to go to Upper Egypt and do what I came here for.”
“Erica, if you persist, I’m going to leave. I’ll go back to Boston. I mean it. I’ve come all the way over here, and it doesn’t seem to matter to you. I just cannot believe it.”
Erica didn’t say anything. She just wanted him to leave.
“And if I do leave, I don’t know what will happen to our relationship.”
“Richard,” said Erica quietly, “I am going to Upper Egypt.”
With the afternoon sun low in the sky, the Nile appeared like a flat ribbon of silver. Sudden highlights sparkled from the surface where gusts of wind stirred the water. Erica had to shield her eyes from the sun to distinguish the timeless form of the pyramids. The sphinx looked as if it were made of gold. She was standing on the balcony of her room at the Hilton. It was almost time to leave. The management had been overjoyed at her decision to vacate her room, because as usual, they had overbooked. Erica had packed and her single suitcase was ready. The travel desk in the lobby had arranged a booking for her on the seven-thirty sleeper south.