“I don’t believe so,” said Erica, but not convincingly. “There is a chance I saw him at a refreshment stand in Memphis, but I’m not sure.”
Ahmed ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Tell me,” he said. “Gamal was already upon the wooden platform in the serapeum when you started up the stairs.”
“That’s right,” said Erica.
“I find that curious,” said Ahmed.
“Why?” questioned Erica.
Ahmed looked slightly flustered. “I’m just thinking,” he said evasively, “nothing makes sense.”
“I feel the same way, Mr. Khazzan. And I want to assure you that I had nothing to do with the affair. Nothing. And I think I should be able to call the American embassy.”
“You may call the American embassy,” said Ahmed, “but frankly there is no need to do so.”
“I think I need some help.”
“Miss Baron, I’m sorry you were inconvenienced today. But actually this is our problem. You can call whomever you’d like when you get back to your hotel.”
“I’m not going to be detained here?” asked Erica, almost afraid to believe what she was hearing.
“Of course not,” said Ahmed.
“That is good news,” said Erica. “But there is one other thing I must tell you about. I should have told you last night, but I was afraid. Anyway…” She breathed in deeply. “I’ve had two very strange and upsetting days. I’m not sure which was worse. Yesterday afternoon I inadvertently witnessed another murder, incredible as it may sound.” Erica involuntarily shivered. “I happened to see an old man by the name of Abdul Hamdi killed by three men, and-”
Ahmed’s chair thudded to the floor. He had been leaning back. “Did you actually see the faces?” His surprise and concern were apparent.
“Two of them, yes. The third, no,” said Erica.
“Could you identify those whom you did see?” asked Ahmed.
“Possibly. I’m not sure. But I do want to apologize about not telling you last night. I really was afraid.”
“I understand,” said Ahmed. “Don’t worry. I will take care of that. But undoubtedly we will have more questions.”
“More questions…” said Erica forlornly. “Actually, I would like to leave Egypt as soon as possible. This trip is nothing like I’d planned.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Baron,” said Ahmed, regaining the composure Erica remembered from the night before. “Under the circumstances, you will not be allowed to leave until these issues are cleared up or we are sure you cannot contribute any more. I really am sorry that you have become involved like this. But you may feel free to move about as much as you’d like-just let me know if you plan to leave Cairo. Again, you should feel free to discuss the problem with the American embassy, but remember they have little say over our internal affairs.”
“Being detained within the country is far better than being in jail,” said Erica, smiling weakly. “How long do you think it will be before I will be allowed to leave?”
“It’s hard to say. Perhaps a week. Although it might be difficult, I suggest that you try to regard your experiences here as unfortunate coincidences. I think you should try to enjoy Egypt.” Ahmed toyed with his pencils before continuing. “As a representative of the government, I’d like to offer you dinner tonight and show you that Egypt can be very pleasurable.”
“Thank you,” said Erica, genuinely moved by Ahmed’s concern, “but I’m afraid I already have plans with Yvon de Margeau.”
“Oh, I see,” said Ahmed, looking away. “Well, please accept my apologies from my government. I will have you driven to your hotel, and I promise I will be in touch.”
He stood up and shook hands with Erica across his desk. His grip was pleasantly strong and firm. Erica walked from the room, surprised that the conversation had ended so abruptly and stunned to be free.
As soon as she left, Ahmed summoned Zaki Riad, the assistant director, to his office. Riad had fifteen years’ seniority in the department but had been passed over during Ahmed’s meteoric rise to director. Although he was an intelligent, quick-witted man, his physical type was the exact opposite of Ahmed’s. He was obese, with bloated features, and his hair was as dark and tightly curled as a karakul lamb’s.
Ahmed had walked to the giant map of Egypt, turning when his assistant had seated himself. “What do you make of all this, Zaki?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” answered Zaki, wiping his brow, which sweated despite the air conditioning. He enjoyed seeing Ahmed under pressure.
“I cannot for the life of me figure out why Gamal was shot,” said Ahmed, slamming his fist against his open palm. “God, a young man with children. Do you think his death had anything to do with the fact he was following Erica Baron?”
“I cannot see how,” said Zaki, “but I guess there’s always a chance.” The last comment was intended to sting. Zaki stuck an unlit pipe in his mouth, mindless of the ashes that drifted down onto his chest.
Ahmed covered his eyes with his hand and massaged his scalp; then slowly he let his hand slide down his face to stroke his luxuriant mustache. “It just doesn’t make sense.” He turned and looked at the large map. “I wonder if there is something going on in Saqqara. Maybe some new tombs have been illicitly discovered.” He walked back and sat down behind his desk. “More disturbing, the immigration authorities notified me that Stephanos Markoulis arrived in Cairo today. As you know, he does not come here often.” Ahmed leaned forward, looking directly at Zaki Riad. “Tell me, what have the police reported about Abdul Hamdi?”
“Very little,” said Zaki. “Apparently he was robbed. The police were able to learn that the old man had recently experienced a marked change in fortune, moving his antique business from Luxor to Cairo. At the same time, he’d been able to purchase more valuable pieces. He must have had some money. So he was robbed.”
“Any idea where his money came from?” asked Ahmed.
“No, but there is someone who might. The old man does have a son in the antique business in Luxor.”
“Have the police spoken to the son?” asked Ahmed.
“Not that I know of,” said Zaki. “That would be too logical for the police. Actually, they’re not all that interested.”
“I’m interested,” said Ahmed. “Arrange air transportation for me to go to Luxor tonight. I will pay Abdul Hamdi’s son a visit in the morning. Also, send several additional guards to the Necropolis of Saqqara.”
“Are you sure this is the right time for you to leave Cairo?” asked Zaki, pointing with the stem of his pipe. “As you indicated, with Stephanos Markoulis in Cairo, something is happening.”
“Perhaps, Zaki,” said Ahmed, “but I think I need to get away and spend a day or so in my own house by the Nile. I cannot help but feel a tremendous responsibility for poor Gamal. When I feel this depressed, Luxor is an emotional balm.”
“And what about the American woman, Erica Baron?” Zaki lit his pipe with a stainless-steel lighter.
“She’s fine. She’s scared, but she seemed to have pulled herself together by the time she left. I’m not sure how I’d react if I’d witnessed two murders in twenty-four hours, especially if one of the victims fell on top of me.”
Zaki took several thoughtful puffs on his pipe before continuing. “Strange. But, Ahmed, when I asked about Miss Baron, I wasn’t inquiring about her health. I want to know if you want her followed.”
“No,” said Ahmed angrily. “Not tonight. She’s going to be with de Margeau.” Almost the instant the words left his mouth, Ahmed felt embarrassed. His emotion was out of place.
“This is not like you, Ahmed,” said Zaki, watching the director very closely. He’d known Ahmed for several years, and Ahmed had never shown any interest in women. Now, suddenly it seemed that Ahmed was jealous. Finding a potential human weakness in Ahmed made Zaki feel inwardly pleased. He’d grown to hate Ahmed’s perfect record. “Perhaps it is best if you go to Luxor for a few days. I will certainly be happy to keep things under control here in Cairo, and I will look into Saqqara personally.”