by Robin Cook
Then, sighing with relief, Erica gave her door a shove, and it closed with a resounding thud followed by the reassuring click of the American-made hardware. She kicked off her shoes, turned off the air conditioning, and opened the balcony door. The floodlights on the pyramids and sphinx had been turned off. Returning to her room, she took her jersey dress off over her head and hung it up. In the distance she could hear the traffic that still plied the Korneish-el-Nile, despite the hour. Otherwise the hotel was silent. It was while she was removing her eye makeup that she heard the first unmistakable sound at her door.
She stopped moving, staring at her image in the mirror. She was dressed in her bra and panties, with the eye makeup gone from one eye. In the distance the usual auto horns sounded, followed by silence. She held her breath, her ears straining. Again she heard the muted sound of metal hitting metal. Erica felt the blood drain from her face. Someone was pushing a key into the lock of her door. The realization made her turn slowly around. The night bolt on the hall door was undone. Erica was paralyzed. She couldn’t make herself lunge for the dead bolt. She was afraid that she would not be able to close it before the door was opened. The tumblers in the lock clicked again.
Then, as she watched, the doorknob began slowly to turn. Erica looked at the lock on the bathroom door. It was a mere button on the handle, and the door itself was a thin panel. Again, the isolated sound of the key being forced made her look back at the slowly turning door handle. Like a frightened animal’s her eyes raced around the room for escape. The balcony! Could she cross over to the neighboring terrace? No, she’d have to swing out over a nine-story drop. Then she remembered the telephone. She ran across the room on silent feet and yanked the receiver to her ear. She heard a distant ring. Answer, she shouted silently, please answer.
There were a few final clicks from the door, different from the others, heralding the full penetration and rotation of the key. The door was unlocked, and without another sound it cracked open, allowing a strip of harsh light from the hall to knife into the room. Erica dropped on her knees. Throwing the phone receiver onto the bed and flattening herself on the floor, she wriggled under the bed.
From beneath the spread she could just see the base of the door as it opened. A buzzing sound came from the phone. Erica knew the phone would give her away, a telltale sign she was hiding! A man came into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. As Erica watched in an agony of terror he walked toward the bed and out of Erica’s line of vision. She was afraid to move her head. Above her she heard the receiver replaced. The intruder then silently walked back into her line of vision and apparently checked the bathroom.
Cold sweat formed on Erica’s face as she watched the feet go to the closet. He was searching for her! The closet door opened, then closed. Coming back to the center of the bedroom, the man stopped, his shoes no more than five or six feet from Erica’s head. Then they come forward: step by step, stopping by the bed. She could have touched him—he was that close.
Suddenly the bedspread was pulled up, and Erica was looking up into a man’s face.
“Erica, what in the world are you doing under the bed?”
“Richard!” Erica screamed, and burst into tears.
Although Erica was still too shaken to move, Richard pulled her from beneath the bed and dusted her off.
“Really,” he said with a grin. “What are you doing under the bed?”
“Oh, Richard,” said Erica, suddenly throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad it’s you. I can’t tell you how glad I am.” She pressed herself against him, holding him tight.
“I should surprise you more often,” he said happily, putting his arms around her bare back. They stood together for a few moments as Erica collected herself and dried her tears.
“Is it really you?” she said finally, looking up into his face. “I can’t believe it. Am I dreaming?”
“You’re not dreaming. It’s me. Maybe a little exhausted, but right here with you in Egypt.”
“You do look a little tired.” Erica brushed his hair off his forehead. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired. Trouble with equipment, they said. We were delayed almost four hours in Rome. But it was worth it. You look wonderful. When did you start putting makeup on only one eye?”
Erica smiled and hugged him gently. “I would have looked better if you’d given me a little more notice. How could you get the time off?” She leaned back in his arms, her hands pressed up against his chest.
“I had covered for someone a few months ago when his father died. He owed me a favor. He’ll see all the emergencies and in-house patients. The office will just have to wait. I’m afraid I wasn’t very effective anyway. I’ve missed you terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too. I guess that’s why I telephoned.”
“I was glad you did,” said Richard, kissing her forehead.
“When I asked you a year ago about possibly coming to Egypt, you said there was no way you could take the time.”
“Well . . .” said Richard, “I didn’t feel as confident about the practice then. But that was a year ago, and now I’m here with you, in Egypt. I have trouble believing it myself. But, Erica, what were you doing under the bed?” A smile formed in the corners of his mouth. “Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I did. I thought you’d be sleeping, and I wanted to come in quietly and awaken you as I used to do at home.”
“Did you scare me?” questioned Erica. She laughed sarcastically. She pushed herself away to get her white eyelet robe from the closet. “I still feel weak. I mean, you terrified me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Richard.
“How did you get a key?” Erica sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.
Richard shrugged. “I just walked in and asked for a key to 932.”
“And they just gave it to you? They didn’t ask any questions?”
“Nope. It’s not unusual in hotels. I was hoping they would, so I could really surprise you. I wanted to see your face when you first learned I was in Cairo.”
“Richard, with what I’ve been through during the last few days, it was probably the worst possible thing you could have done.” Her voice took on an edge. “In fact, it was pretty stupid.”
“Okay, okay,” said Richard, lifting his hands in mock defense. “I’m sorry if I frightened you. I didn’t mean to.”
“Didn’t you think I’d be scared if you snuck into my room at midnight? Really, Richard, that’s not too much to ask. Even in Boston, that would not be wise. I don’t think you thought about my feelings at all.”
“Well, I was excited to see you. I mean, I’ve come nineteen zillion miles.” Richard’s smile began to fade. His sandy hair was tousled, and his eyes were lined with dark shadows.
“The more I think about it, the more idiotic it sounds. God, I could have had a heart attack. You scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry, I said I was sorry.”
“ ‘I’m sorry,’ ” repeated Erica testily. “I suppose saying I’m sorry is supposed to make it all okay. Well, it doesn’t. It was bad enough to witness two murders in two days, but then to be subjected to an adolescent prank! Enough is enough!”
“I thought you were glad to see me,” said Richard defensively. “You said you were glad to see me.”
“I was glad you weren’t a would-be rapist or murderer.”
“Well, that certainly makes a fellow feel welcome.”
“Richard, what in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
“I’m here to see you. I came halfway around the world to this dusty, hot city because I wanted to show you how much I care.”
Erica opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak right away. Her irritation softened slightly. “But I specifically asked you not to come,” she said, as if speaking to a naughty child.
“I know that, but I talked it over with your mother.” Richard sat down on the bed and tried to take Erica’s hand.
“What?” she questioned, eluding his grasp. “Tell me that again.”
“Tell you what?” asked Richard, confused. He sensed her renewed anger but did not understand.
“You and my mother conspired.”
“I wouldn’t use that word. We discussed whether I should come.”
“Wonderful,” scoffed Erica. “And I’ll bet it was decided that Erica, the little girl she is, is just going through a difficult stage and that she’ll grow out of it. She just needs to be treated like a child and tolerated for the time being.”
“Look, Erica. For your information, your mother has your best interests at heart.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Erica, getting off the bed. “My mother cannot distinguish between her life and mine anymore. She’s too close and I feel as if she’s sucking the life right out of me. Can you understand that?”
“No, I can’t,” said Richard, his own irritation beginning to surface.
“I didn’t think you could. I’m beginning to think it has something to do with being Jewish. My mother is so intent on my following in her footsteps that she doesn’t bother to find out who I really am. Maybe she does want what’s best for me, but I also think she wants to justify her own life through mine. The trouble is that my mother and I are very different; we’ve grown up in different worlds.”
“The only time I think of you as a child is when you talk like this!”
“I don’t think you understand at all, Richard, not at all. You don’t even know why I’m here in Egypt. No matter how many times I’ve explained it, you refuse to comprehend.”
“I disagree. I think I know why you’re here. You’re afraid of a commitment. It’s as simple as that. You want to demonstrate your independence.”
“Richard, don’t you dare turn this around. You were the one who was afraid of a commitment. A year ago you would not even discuss marriage. Now suddenly you want a wife, a house, and a dog, and I don’t think the order makes much difference. Well, I’m not a possession, not for you, not for my mother. I’m not here in Egypt to act out my independence. If that’s what I wanted, I would have fled to one of those canned vacation spots, like the Club Med, where you don’t have to think. I’ve come to Egypt because I’ve spent eight years studying ancient Egypt and it’s my life’s work. It’s part of me as much as medicine is a part of you.”
“So you’re trying to tell me that love and family are secondary to your career.”
Erica closed her eyes and sighed. “No, not secondary. It’s just that your current conception of marriage would mean a type of intellectual abdication. You have always viewed my work as a kind of elaborate hobby. You don’t take it seriously.”
Richard tried to disagree, but Erica continued. “I’m not saying you did not like the fact that I was getting an exotic doctorate. But it wasn’t because you were happy for me. It just happened to fit some grand design you had for yourself. I think it made you feel more liberal, more intellectual.”
“Erica, I don’t think this is fair.”
“Don’t misunderstand me, Richard. I know I’m partly to blame. I never really made a point of communicating my enthusiasm for my work. If anything, I camouflaged it for fear that it would frighten you away. But it’s different now. I recognize who I am. And it doesn’t mean I don’t want marriage. It means that I don’t want the wifely role that you have in mind. And I’ve come here to Egypt to do something that involves my professional expertise.”
Richard sagged under the weight of Erica’s argument. He was too tired to fight. “If you’re so intent on being useful, why did you choose such an obscure field? I mean, really, Erica, Egyptology! New Kingdom hieroglyphics!” Richard fell back on the bed, his feet still touching the floor.
“Egyptian antiquities generate a lot more action than you’d ever imagine,” said Erica. Walking over to the bureau, she picked up the envelope containing the photos Jeffrey John Rice had given to her. “I’ve been painfully learning that fact during the last two days. Take a look at these!” Erica tossed the envelope onto Richard’s chest.
Richard sat up with obvious effort and took out the photos. He looked at them rapidly, then replaced them. “Nice statue,” he said noncommittally, falling back onto the bed.
“Nice statue?” said Erica cynically. “That could be the finest ancient Egyptian statue ever found, and I’ve witnessed two murders, at least one of which I believe involved that statue, and you just say nice.”
Richard opened one eye and looked at Erica, who was defiantly leaning against the bureau. The tops of her breasts were visible through the eyelet embroidery of her robe. Without sitting up again, Richard took the photos back out of the envelope and looked at them more carefully. “All right,” he said at length. “A nice deadly statue. But what do you mean, two murders? You didn’t see another today, did you?” Richard pushed himself up to a half-sitting position. His eyes were only half-open.
“Not only did I see it, but the victim fell on top of me. It would be difficult to be any closer and not be involved.”
Richard stared at Erica for several minutes. “I think you better come back to Boston,” he said with as much authority as he could muster.
“I’m going to stay here,” said Erica flatly. “In fact, I think I’m going to do something about the antiquities black market. I think I can help. And I’d like to keep that Seti statue from being smuggled out of Egypt.”
Immersed in deep concentration, Erica was oblivious of the passage of time. Looking at her watch, she was surprised to see it was two-thirty in the morning. She had been sitting on her balcony at the small round table she’d dragged from inside. She’d also carried out the bedside-table lamp, which cast a bright puddle of light on the table, illuminating the photos of the Houston statue.
Richard was lying on the bed in a deep sleep, still fully clothed. Erica had insisted on trying to get him a separate room, but the hotel was full. So were the Sheraton, Shepheard’s, and the Meridien. While Erica was trying to call a hotel on Gezira island, his breathing became stertorous and she realized he had passed out. Erica relented. She had not wanted him to spend the night with her because she did not want to risk making love to him. But since he was already asleep, she decided he could find himself a room in the morning.
Too overwrought to sleep herself, she had decided to work on the hieroglyphics in the photos. She was particularly interested in the short inscription containing the two pharaonic cartouches. Hieroglyphics were always difficult, since there were no vowels and directives had to be interpreted correctly. But this inscription on the Seti statue seemed more obtuse than usual, as if the original designer wanted to encode his message. Erica wasn’t even positive in which direction the inscription should be read. No matter what she did, nothing made much sense. Why would the name of the boy king Tutankhamen be carved on the effigy of a mighty pharaoh?
The best interpretation of the phrase she could make was: “Eternal rest [or peace] given [or awarded] to his majesty, king of Upper and Lower Egypt, son of Amon-Re, beloved of Osiris, Pharaoh Seti I, who rules [or governs or resides] after [or behind or under] Tutankhamen.” As far as she could remember, that was reasonably close to what Dr. Lowery had said on the phone. But she wasn’t satisfied. It seemed too simple. Certainly Seti I ruled or lived after Tutankhamen by fifty years or so. But of all the pharaohs, why hadn’t they picked Thutmose IV or one of the other great empire-builders? Also, the final preposition bothered her. She reje
cted “under” because there was no dynastic connection between Seti I and Tutankhamen. There were no family ties whatsoever. In fact, before Seti’s time she was reasonably sure Tutankhamen’s names had been obliterated by the usurper general, Pharaoh Horemheb. She rejected “behind” because of the insignificance of Tutankhamen. That left “after.”
Erica read the phrase out loud. Again, it sounded too simple, and for that reason mysteriously complicated. But it excited her trying to pierce a human mind that had functioned three thousand years previously.
Looking back ino the room at Richard’s sleeping form, Erica realized more than ever the gulf that separated them. Richard would never comprehend her fascination with Egypt and the fact that such intellectual excitement was an important part of her identity.
She got up from the table and carried the lamp and the photos back into the room. As the light fell on Richard’s face, with his lips parted ever so slightly, he suddenly appeared very young, like a boy. Erica remembered the beginning of their relationship and she longed for that simpler time. She really did care for him, but it was hard to face reality: Richard was always going to be Richard. His medical career kept him from viewing himself with any kind of perspective, and Erica had to face the fact that he was not going to change.
She switched off the lamp and stretched out beside him. He groaned and turned over, putting his hand on Erica’s chest. Gently she replaced it at his side. She wanted to maintain her distance, and she did not want to be touched. She thought about Yvon, who she believed treated her as an intellectual equal and a woman at the same time. Looking at Richard in the dim light, Erica realized she was going to have to tell him about the Frenchman, and Richard would be hurt. She stared up at the dark ceiling, anticipating his jealous reaction. He’d say that all Erica wanted was to run off and find a lover. He would never understand the strength of her commitment to keep the second statue of Seti I from being spirited out of the country. “You’ll see,” she whispered to Richard in the darkness. “I’m going to find that statue.” Richard groaned in his sleep and turned away.
