Sphinx

by Robin Cook

  “No, of course not. Don’t even mention my name. Give me a call when you return.” Ahmed hung up before she could say good-bye.

  As Erica boarded the train for Cairo, Lahib Zayed entered the Winter Palace Hotel. He had a confidential message for Erica saying that she would be shown a Seti I statue the following night, provided she followed certain directions. But Erica was not in her room, and he decided he’d return later, afraid of what Muhammad would do to him if he failed to give her the message.

  After the train to Cairo departed, Khalifa entered the main post office and cabled Yvon de Margeau that Erica Baron was on her way to Cairo. He added that she’d been acting very strangely and he’d await further instructions at the Savoy Hotel.

  Day 8

  CAIRO 7:30 A.M.

  The grounds of the pyramids of Giza opened at eight A M. With thirty minutes to wait, Erica entered the Mena House Hotel for a second breakfast. A dark-haired hostess showed her to a table on the terrace. Erica ordered coffee and melon. There were only a few other people eating, and the pool was empty of bathers. Directly in front of her, above a line of palms and eucalyptus trees, was the Great Pyramid of Khufu. With an elemental simplicity its triangular form soared upward against the morning sky.

  Since Erica had heard about the Great Pyramid since she was a child, she had prepared herself to be a little disappointed when she finally confronted the monument. But such was not the case. She was already moved and awed by its majesty and symmetry. It wasn’t so much the size, although that contributed, as it was the fact that the structure represented an attempt by man to make an imprint on the implacable face of time.

  Removing the Baedeker from her bag, Erica found the Great Pyramid and studied the schematic for the interior. She tried to think of Nenephta and how he’d look at the design. She realized that she probably knew something that Nenephta didn’t. Careful investigation had shown that the Great Pyramid, like most of the other pyramids, had undergone significant modification in the course of construction. In fact, it had been hypothesized that the Great Pyramid had passed through three distinct stages. In the first stage, when a much smaller structure was planned, the burial chamber was to be underground, and it had been carved from the bedrock. Then, when the structure was enlarged, a new burial chamber within the building was planned. Erica looked at this room in the diagram. It was erroneously labeled the Queen’s Chamber. Erica knew she could not visit the underground crypt unless she got special permission from the Department of Antiquities. But the Queen’s Chamber was open to the public.

  She checked her watch. It was almost eight. Erica wanted to be one of the first to enter the pyramid. Once the busloads of tourists arrived, she knew it would be unpleasant in the narrow passageways.

  Turning down persistent offers of donkey and camel rides, Erica walked up the road to the plateau on which the pyramid stood. The closer she got to the structure, the more monumental it became. Although she could quote statistics on the millions of tons of limestone used in building it, such statistics had never moved her. But now that she was within its shadow, she walked as if she were in a trance. Even without its original facing of white limestone, the effect of the sun on the surface of the pyramid was painfully intense.

  Erica approached the cave that had been enlarged from the opening Caliph Mamum had ordered dug in A.D. 820. There were no other people in the entryway, and she went in quickly. The glaring whiteness of the day was replaced by dim shadows and weak incandescent light.

  The caliph’s tunnel joined the narrow ascending passageway just beyond the granite plugs that had sealed it in antiquity and which were still in place. The ceiling of this ascending corridor was little more than four feet high, and Erica had to bend over to walk up it. In order to facilitate climbing, horizontal ribs had been set in the slippery paving. The passageway was about a hundred feet long, and when Erica emerged at the base of the grand gallery she was relieved to be able to stand upright.

  The grand gallery sloped upward at the same ratio as the ascending passage. With its corbeled ceiling over twenty feet high, it was pleasantly spacious after the narrow confines of the corridor. To Erica’s right a grating covered the entrance to the descending shaft, which connected to the underground burial chamber. Ahead of her was the opening she wanted. Erica bent over again and entered the long horizontal corridor leading to the Queen’s Chamber.

  Once there, she was again able to stand upright. The air was stuffy, and Erica remembered her uncomfortable feelings in Seti I’s tomb. She closed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts. The room was without decoration, as were all the interior walls of the pyramid. She took out her flashlight and ran it around the room. The ceiling was vaulted in a chevron formation with huge slabs of limestone.

  Erica opened her Baedeker to the schematic of the pyramid. She tried again to imagine what an architect like Nenephta would think if he were within the Great Pyramid, keeping in mind that even in his day the structure was over a thousand years old. From the diagram she knew that standing in the Queen’s Chamber she was directly above the original burial chamber and below the King’s Chamber. It was during the third and final modification of the pyramid that the burial chamber was designed higher in the structure. The new room was labeled King’s Chamber, and Erica decided it was time to visit it.

  Bending over to enter the low passage back to the grand gallery, Erica saw that a figure was coming toward her. Passing someone in the narrow corridor would have been difficult, so she waited. With the exit momentarily blocked, she felt a rush of claustrophobia. Suddenly she was aware of the thousands of tons of rock above her. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. The air was heavy.

  “Christ, it’s just an empty room,” complained a blond American tourist. He wore a T-shirt that said “Black holes are out of sight.”

  Erica nodded, then started down the tunnel. When she reached the grand gallery, it was already crowded. She climbed to the top behind an obese German man and mounted the wooden steps to get to the level of the King’s Chamber passage. Then she had to duck under a low wall. The grooves for huge sealing portcullises were visible on the sides.

  Erica found herself in a pink granite room about fifteen by thirty feet. The ceiling was made from nine slabs laid horizontally. In one corner was a badly damaged sarcophagus. There were about twenty people in the room, and the air was oppressive.

  Again Erica tried to imagine how the structure would suggest a way to thwart tomb robbers. She examined the area of the portcullises. Perhaps that was what Nenephta meant: granite closure of the tomb. But portcullises had been used in many of the pyramids. There was nothing unique about those in the Great Pyramid. Besides, they had not been used in the Step Pyramid, and Nenephta said that the way had been used in both.

  Although the King’s Chamber was a good-sized room, it was certainly not large enough to store all the funerary possessions of a pharaoh of the importance of Khufu. Erica reasoned that the other chambers had probably been used for the pharaoh’s treasures, particularly the Queen’s Chamber, which was below her, and perhaps even the grand gallery, although many Egyptologists suggested that the grand gallery was constructed to store the sealing blocks for the ascending passage.

  Erica had no idea how to explain Nenephta’s comments. As with all its other mysteries, the Great Pyramid remained mute. More and more people pressed into the King’s Chamber. Erica decided she needed some air. She put away her guidebook, but before leaving the chamber she wanted to see the sarcophagus. Gently pushing her way across the room, she peered into the granite box. She knew there was a good deal of controversy about its origin, age, and purpose. It was quite small to accommodate the royal coffin, and a number of Egyptologists doubted that it was a sarcophagus at all.

  “Miss Baron . . .” a high-pitched but resonant voice said sof
tly.

  Erica turned, stunned to hear her name. She scanned the people nearest her. No one seemed to be looking at her. Then she glanced down. An angelic-looking boy of about ten, wearing a soiled galabia, was smiling at her.

  “Miss Baron?”

  “Yes,” said Erica hesitantly.

  “You must go to the Curio Shop to see the statue. You must go today. You must go alone.”

  The boy turned and disappeared into the crowd of people.

  “Wait?” called Erica. She pushed her way through the crowd and looked down the sloping grand gallery. The boy was already three-quarters of the way down. Erica began the descent, but the wooded ribs were more difficult to handle going down than coming up. The boy seemed to have no trouble, and quickly disappeared into the opening of the ascending passageway.

  Erica slowed to a safe speed. She knew she’d never catch him. She thought about his message and felt a rush of excitement. The Curio Shop! Her ruse had succeeded. She’d found the statue!

  LUXOR 12:00 P.M.

  With a violent tug Lahib Zayed felt himself pulled to his feet. Evangelos had an iron grip on the front part of his galabia. “Where is she?” he growled into the Arab’s frightened face.

  Stephanos Markoulis, dressed casually in an open-necked shirt, put down the small bronze figure he’d been examining and turned to the two men. “Lahib, I cannot understand why, after letting me know Erica Baron came into your shop asking for the Seti statue, you hesitate to tell me where she is.”

  Lahib was terrified, uncertain who scared him the most, Muhammad or Stephanos. But feeling Evangelos’ fingers tighten on his galabia, he decided it was Stephanos. “All right, I’ll tell you.”

  “Let him go, Evangelos.”

  The Greek released his grip abruptly so that Lahib staggered backward before regaining his balance.

  “Well?” asked Stephanos.

  “I don’t know where she is at the moment, but I know where she is staying. She has a room at the Winter Palace Hotel. But, Mr. Markoulis, the woman will be taken care of. We have made arrangements.”

  “I would like to take care of her myself,” said Stephanos. “To be sure. But don’t worry, we’ll be back to say good-bye. Thanks for all your help.”

  Stephanos motioned to Evangelos, and the two men walked out of the shop. Lahib did not move until they had gone from view. Then he ran to the door and watched them until they had disappeared.

  “There is going to be big trouble here in Luxor,” said Lahib to his son when the two Greeks were out of sight. “I want you to take your mother and sister to Aswan this afternoon. As soon as the American woman appears and I give her the message, I’ll join you. I want you to go now.”

  Stephanos Markoulis had Evangelos wait in the outer lobby of the Winter Palace Hotel while he approached the registration desk. The clerk was a handsome Nubian with ebony skin.

  “Is there an Erica Baron staying here?” Stephanos asked.

  The clerk turned to the daily ledger, running his finger down the names. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’d like to leave a message. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  “Of course, sir.” The clerk graciously gave Stephanos a piece of stationery, an envelope, and a pen.

  Stephanos pretended to write a message. Instead he just scribbled on the paper and sealed it in the envelope. He gave it to the clerk, who turned and put it into box 218. Stephanos thanked him and went to get Evangelos. Together they walked upstairs.

  There was no answer when they knocked on the door to 218, so Stephanos had Evangelos work on the lock while he stood guard. The Victorian hardware was easy to manipulate, and they were inside the room almost as fast as if they’d had the correct key. Stephanos closed the door behind him and eyed the room. “Let’s search it,” he said. “Then we’ll wait here until she comes back.”

  “Am I going to kill her immediately?” asked Evangelos.

  Stephanos smiled. “No, we’ll talk to her for a little while. Only, I get to talk with her first.”

  Evangelos laughed and pulled open the top drawer of the bureau. There in neat stacks were Erica’s nylon panties.

  CAIRO 2:30 P.M.

  “Are you certain?” asked Yvon in disbelief. Raoul looked up from his magazine.

  “Almost positive,” said Erica, enjoying Yvon’s surprise. After receiving the message in the Great Pyramid, Erica had decided to see Yvon. She knew he’d be pleased about the statue, and she was quite sure he’d be willing to take her to Luxor.

  “It is almost unbelievable,” said Yvon, his blue eyes shining. “How do you know they plan to show you the Seti statue?”

  “Because that’s what I asked to see.”

  “You are incredible,” said Yvon. “I have been doing everything possible to find that statue, and you locate it just like that.” He waved his hand in an easy gesture.

  “Well, I haven’t seen the statue yet,” said Erica. “I must get to the Curio Shop this afternoon, and I must go alone.”

  “We can leave within the hour.” Yvon reached for the phone. He was surprised the statue was back in Luxor; in fact, it made him a little suspicious.

  Erica stood up and stretched. “I’ve just spent the night on the train, and I’d love to shower, if you don’t mind.”

  Yvon gestured toward the adjoining room. Erica took her tote bag and went into the bathroom while Yvon was talking with his pilot.

  Yvon completed the plans for transportation, then checked the sound of the shower before turning to Raoul. “This possibly could be the opportunity we’ve been hoping for. But we need to be extremely careful. Now is when we must rely on Khalifa. Get in touch with him and let him know we’ll be arriving around six-thirty. Tell him that Erica will be meeting tonight with the people we want. Tell him that there will undoubtedly be trouble and that he should be prepared. And tell him that if the girl is killed, he’s finished.”

  The small jet rolled slightly to the right, then banked gracefully, passing over the Nile valley in a wide curve about five miles north of Luxor. It passed through one thousand feet, then straightened on a heading due north. At the correct moment, Yvon cut the air speed, pulled up the nose, and landed smoothly over a cushion of air. The reverse thrust of the engines shook the plane and brought it down to taxi speed in a very short distance. Yvon left the controls to come back to talk with Erica while the pilot taxied toward the terminal.

  “Now, let’s go over this once more,” he said, turning one of the lounge seats around to face Erica. His voice was serious, making her uncomfortably anxious. In Cairo the idea of being taken to see the Seti statue had been exciting, but here in Luxor she felt the rumblings of fear.

  “As soon as we arrive,” Yvon continued, “I want you to take a separate taxi and go directly to the Curio Antique Shop. Raoul and I will wait at the New Winter Palace Hotel, suite 200. I’m positive, though, that the statue will not be at the shop.”

  Erica looked up sharply. “What do you mean it won’t be there?”

  “It would be too dangerous. No, the statue will be somewhere else. They will take you to it. It’s the way it’s done. But it will be all right.”

  “The statue had been at Antica Abdul,” protested Erica.

  “That was a fluke,” said Yvon. “The statue was in transit. This time I’m sure that they will take you somewhere else to see the statue. Try to remember exactly where, so you’ll be able to return. Then, when you are shown the statue, I want you to bargain with them. If you don’t, they will be suspicious. But remember, I’m willing to pay what they ask, provided they can guarantee delivery outside Egypt.”

  “Like via the Zurich Credit Bank?” said Erica.
>
  “How did you know that?” asked Yvon.

  “Same way I knew to go to the Curio Antique Shop,” said Erica.

  “And how is that?” asked Yvon.

  “I’m not going to tell you,” said Erica. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Erica, this is not a game.”

  “I know it’s not a game,” she said heatedly. Yvon had been making her more and more anxious. “That’s exactly why I’m not going to tell you, not yet.”

  Yvon studied her, perplexed. “All right,” he said at length, “but I want you to come back to my hotel as soon as possible. We can’t allow the statue to go underground again. Tell them that the money can be on account within twenty-four hours.”

  Erica nodded and looked out the window. Even though it was after six, shimmering heat still radiated from the tarmac. The plane came to a stop, and the engines died. She took a deep breath and unhooked her seat belt.

  From an observation post near the commercial terminal, Khalifa watched the door to the small jet swing open. As soon as he saw Erica, he turned and walked quickly to a waiting car, checking his automatic before climbing into the driver’s seat. Certain that tonight he was going to earn his two-hundred-dollar-a-day salary, he put the car in gear and drove toward Luxor.

  Inside Erica’s room at the Winter Palace, Evangelos drew his Beretta from beneath his left arm and fingered the ivory handle. “Put that thing away,” snapped Stephanos from the bed. “It makes me nervous for you to be fumbling with it. Just relax, for Christ’s sake. The girl will show up. All her stuff is here.”

  Driving in town, Erica considered stopping at her hotel. There was no use carting around her camera and extra clothes. But worrying that Lahib Zayed might close his shop before she got there, she decided to go directly there, as Yvon had suggested. She had the driver stop at one end of the crowded Shari el Muntazah. The Curio Antique Shop was a half-block away.