QUICKLY, HE REMOVED THE box and hurried back to the others.
“What’s the matter?”
“Cops.” He gave the box to Conway, “Get this thing down there, and hurry. We’ve got to get out of here,”
Nikos looked over at the lights. “They’re coming this way.”
Conway clambered down with the box. The others watched the lights.
“They’ll see the taxi,” Barnaby said. “What do we do then?”
“We can take care of them,” Nikos said, clenching his fists, “There are probably only two or three.”
“No,” Pierce said. “If there’s trouble here, the police will be back in the morning and search the area thoroughly. We have to get out of here without detection.”
“But they’ll see the taxi,” Barnaby whined.
Conway came back up. “I hear the man despairing,” he said. “But have no fear.” He turned to Nikos. “You speak Egyptian, right? And I speak French. Here’s what we do.”
He whispered to Nikos, who nodded.
“It might work.”
The lights came closer.
“What’s going on?” Barnaby said.
“You two hide,” Conway said. “We’ll take care of everything.”
Pierce and Barnaby ducked behind a dune several yards away. Nikos sauntered back to the taxi, took out the ashtray, and dumped the butts on the sand. Then, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the door. Conway ran off into the desert, away from the monastery, and disappeared in a ravine.
“What are they doing?” Barnaby whispered.
Pierce shook his head.
The car came closer. The lights were very bright now, and he could see the outline of the Land Rover. The headlamps fell on the taxi. The Rover ground to a halt.
A spotlight was turned on and swept the area. It came back to Nikos, leaning against the taxi.
From the Land Rover, a voice spoke rapidly in Egyptian.
Calmly, Nikos raised a finger to his lips and shook his head in warning.
Nikos had watched the lights approach and waited until the spotlight fixed on him. He was terrified, but he knew he must remain calm. He must excite their interest, and hold it so that they would not ask for his ID card. If they did, he was as good as jailed.
From the Rover, a voice called: “What are you doing here?”
He pressed his finger to his lips and waved them silent. He walked over to the car, shaking his head vigorously.
A man leaned out and said gruffly, “You know you can be shot, stupid one.”
“It would bring scandal to our country,” Nikos said solemnly.
There was a hesitation. He felt his heart leap—perhaps he had done it. In the dark, he tried to compose his face, showing smugness, a secret.
“What do you mean?”
“I beg you to keep your voice down,” Nikos whispered. “It is vital. And turn out your lights.”
“Explain yourself,” the voice snapped. But it was quieter. Nikos peered into the Rover. Two others, both armed with rifles.
“Foreigners,” Nikos said. “You would not believe it.” He spat on the ground.
Then he leaned close, confidential.
“You will not tell?”
“I will decide that.”
The lights on the Land Rover went out. Victory was almost sure, he thought.
“It is,” Nikos said, “the French ambassador. His excellency and his excellency’s mistress.”
“Here?”
Nikos nodded. “They have been here for two hours.” He sighed. “They make such sounds!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Twice each week, I drive the French ambassador and his mistress to this place. They stay most of the evening. She is very passionate.”
“This is true?”
The voice was definitely interested now.
“Yes,” Nikos said. “They are just beyond the hill. I have been listening.”
“Despicable pig! If you are lying, it will go badly for you.”
“You would like to hear?”
“No,” the man whispered stiffly. “But it is my duty to verify such an unusual story. Show me the way.”
He climbed out of the jeep, carrying the rifle.
Nikos led the way. “We must not go too close.”
“Why do you suppose they do it out here?”
“Foreigners,” Nikos said, as if that explained everything.
Conway stood in the ravine, sighing and groaning. “Ma chère…mon petit chou…oh, c’est formidable! …incroyable…ma chère, ma chère…ooooh…c’est ca…”
He kicked the sand with his feet, lay down, and rolled in it. He giggled and kicked and giggled again.
“Encore…”
“I do not understand what they are saying,” the policeman whispered. He seemed disappointed.
“French.”
“Yes. Do you understand it?”
“No,” Nikos admitted.
The policeman listened to the groans. “Is she beautiful?”
“Ravishing. Such breasts.”
The policeman edged closer.
“No, no,” Nikos said. “It would do no good. There is only a quarter moon. But on other nights…”
The man licked his lips. “You come twice a week?”
“Yes.”
“Always to this spot?”
“No. Usually to a pyramid. They like to be near a pyramid.”
“Desecration of the proud monuments of our country,” the policeman said, starting back toward the Land Rover. “He must pay you well.”
Nikos shrugged.
“What he does is against the law, of course. He is immune, because he is a diplomat. But you—”
“Perhaps we can make an arrangement,” Nikos said quickly.
“Perhaps. How much dues he pay?”
“Five hundred piasters.”
“You are robbed!”
Nikos shrugged: “I am a poor man.”
“You will require police cooperation. This will cost you 300 piasters.”
“Impossible,” Nikos said, “I must buy gasoline. The prices are high.”
“Then charge him more,” the policeman laughed “Three hundred piasters is our fee.”
“I can afford only two hundred.”
“Let us agree un two hundred eighty.”
Eventually, they settled on two hundred fifty. Nikos paid him, and the policeman climbed hack into the Land Rover. A few moments later, it rumbled off across the desert.
Going back in the taxi, Conway chortled gleefully. “Am I,” he said, “or am I not the world’s greatest lover?”
“You are,” Pierce said.
“I’m worth two of any other kind,” Conway said. “A regular one-man band.”
Nikos flicked a cigarette out the window. “You love yourself. There is nothing unusual in that.”
“Oh, but I do it so well. Such finesse, such heights of passion, such technique…”
They reached Cairo at two in the morning.
In Grover’s room, Pierce and Barnaby finished typing the ransom note and pronounced themselves satisfied. Pierce gave it to Grover, who would remain behind in Cairo while the others returned to Luxor.
“There it is,” Pierce said.
Grover read it through quickly. “Day after tomorrow?”
“Yes. Wait until then. It’ll give us a chance to get back to the site.”
“All right. Day after tomorrow,” Grover folded the letter and placed it alongside the pictures and the gold mirror. He sipped a Scotch and looked over the glass at Pierce.
“This is your last chance,” he said, grinning. “Sure you don’t want to pull out?”
“I’m sure,” Pierce said.
“Well then, good luck to us all,” Grover gulped back his Scotch.
Four hours later, tired and unshaven, Pierce caught the plane back to Luxor.