Valerie backed away from him toward the entrance. "Tell him...

uh!"

Strong arms seized her. Before she could cry out, they yanked her roughly from the shade of the shrine and threw her onto the hot ground outside. She looked up at two men standing over her. "We mean no disrespect," Valerie said in Arabic. Wiry, ferocious in their short, dark beards, they were unarmed. One of them had a long camel face; the other was round, apoplectic. Breathless with rage, neither one replied.

Two other men, shouting, reached through the entrance and jerked Derek up from his crouching position. He did not resist, although their combined weight was scarcely more than his, and allowed himself to be dragged from the shrine. Without stopping, the two men held him by his upper arms and pulled him toward the village.

"Tell them we didn't mean any harm," he called back over his shoulder.

* 147 *

The two other men prodded Valerie from both sides, urging her to follow the rst group. "They're not going to listen," she called back to him. A few minutes later she added, "It looks like they're taking us to the mosque."

"Oh, great. They're fundamentalists, right? And the penalty for trespassing on a shrine is what?"

Valerie tried to reassure him. "Don't worry," she said feebly. "I will explain to the imam-"

The camel-faced one seized her by the shoulder of her shirt and spat in her face.

* 148 *

CHAPTER XXI:.

LA ILAHA ILL ALLA.

The mosque stood at the edge of the village. The simple domed structure was anked on one side by a concrete wall and on the other by an arcade forming a shaded walkway. Under the arcade, a man poured water into an ablutions urn. The captors prodded their two prisoners into the courtyard, and a crowd of spectators followed them, men at the forefront and some half dozen black-shrouded women at the rear. Valerie could make no sense of their angry murmurs but for the word agaanib. Foreigners.

The rumbling of the crowd stopped suddenly as a door opened within the arcade and a man stepped out into the sunlight. Tall, white-bearded, in dark blue galabaya and turban, he projected a somber authority. He stood for a dramatic moment in front of the captives, studying them.

"The imam, right?" Derek muttered.

"Uh-huh."

The four guards backed away from the prisoners, leaving them at the center of a silent, hostile crescent of onlookers. The white-beard turned toward the captors, awaiting explanation. The camel-faced one stepped forward again and began his tirade, gesticulating emphatically.

When he paused, the crowd murmured agreement, like a Greek chorus.

The imam listened without expression to the accusation, then turned to Derek. "What were you doing in a Muslim shrine?" His Arabic was surprisingly polished, his speech magisterial, as of a man used to public speaking.

"Val, what's he saying to me? Tell him I don't speak Arabic."

* 149 *

She addressed the cleric, who declined to look at her but stared sullenly at some spot on the ground while she spoke. "Effendi, this man asks me to tell you that he was taken ill and sought relief. He did not mean to give offense."

The imam lifted his eyes suddenly-hard, bright stones. "But you gave offense, both of you. Entering a holy shrine for your comfort is a desecration."

She persisted. "My friend was praying for deliverance from an af iction, as do many pilgrims. A saint hears all languages, doesn't he?"

The cleric looked down at Valerie's boots and trousers. "You speak out of place, woman. The prayer of an unbeliever is a blasphemy on the mercy of Allah, in whom all things liveth."

In whom all things liveth. Valerie hesitated, taken aback at the familiar phrase. "My friend's supplication was sincere and respectful.

His father is a preacher, an imam in his own church, and this believer kneels before the One. Isn't the god of the Muslims also the god of Jews and Christians?"

The cleric turned to the accuser who still stood with his hands on his hips. "Did you witness this man praying?"

The long face tightened. "He was not praying. He...he was bent over his knees with his face in his hands. He spoke in his own language, but rst he said, ' Allah Uakbar,' to mock us." The witness stepped back, suddenly uncertain, and the crowd murmured again.

The cleric faced his captives. "You come all this way to pray in a foreign language at the shrine of a saint whose name you do not even know."

"You can question our knowledge, Effendi, but not our intentions.

This man prayed as a believer, and I am his witness."

"A woman bears weak witness and a foreigner none at all. These men would stone you if I allowed them to, and it would be a just thing, for your desecration. God is not mocked." He paused, touching his beard as if to draw wisdom from it. "But Allah is also merciful, and it is not for me to say what is in a man's heart." He looked down once again at the boots she wore and glanced away.

"By whichever way you came here, you must leave again. Quickly, or these people will do you great harm."

* 150 *

Relieved, Valerie translated the cleric's remarks to Derek and reached out to him.

He withdrew his arm from her grasp. "Ask him why he hates us so much, Valerie. What have we ever done to them? Go ahead. Ask him that for me."

The imam listened, pressing his lips together while she interpreted.

Then he looked directly at the American. "Do you know how foreigners appear to us? Everything about you is display, of wealth and power and lasciviousness. Your dress and behavior is a corruption to the eyes of our young, for the foolish among them try to emulate you. You are the people of Satan, and where you go, you bring licentiousness, your idle freedoms, and the disorder of your culture."

He paused, allowing her to translate, and then took up his vituperation once again.

"You disdain the iron law of God and urge our own government to reject it, bending to the will of the West. We feel your contempt for us as you destroy our traditions, and we despise you in return."

Valerie turned to her friend. "He said-"

A gunshot sounded suddenly and the crowd broke apart. From the con nes of the courtyard, there was no place to ee but through the gate, and a security truck suddenly blocked it. Armed men jogged in through the gate and laid about them with ri e butts in the crowd of villagers. In a few short moments the compound was littered with the battered and wounded. Two of the soldiers stepped before the imam and took hold of him, dragging him without explanation toward the police truck. A third soldier, an of cer, approached and presented himself with a quick military bow. "No need to worry. You are safe now," he said in English.

"Wow. What a coincidence that you were here when we needed you." Derek's eyes darted from the of cer to the villagers who were eeing, some injured and staggering, through the gate into the street.

"No coincidence. Security patrols the historical sites every day to protect the tourists. We are also looking for someone. A Sudanese. Even more dangerous than these people." He turned to Derek. "If you would be so kind to show me your passport, just to be sure, then you can be on your way."

* 151 *

Valerie watched as the soldiers pushed the somber cleric into the rear of the police vehicle and closed the door. "It was just a misunderstanding. We were straightening it all out."

"Well, it was getting a little scary for my taste, and I'm glad you guys showed up. Here's my passport. See? American boy."

The of cer took an indifferent look at the document and handed it back. "These fundamentalists are a big problem, especially the imams.

We have to teach them a lesson. It would be good for you to go now and let us do our job." The of cer bowed once again and returned to his vehicle.

In a moment, the truck and its prisoner pulled away and rumbled out over the desert road, leaving a gray-brown cloud hanging in the street behind it. The onlookers standing on both sides of the street fell back a few paces and covered their mouths from the dust. Their eyes watched, smoldering.

Derek spoke under his breath. "What do we do now?"

"We walk down the street quietly, toward the center where the well should be and, hopefully, our truck. Like this." Eyes straight ahead, she walked unhurried through the gate into the street.

Derek came alongside of her, and they set out through the gauntlet of sullen, bitter faces. No one called out to them, or moved or spoke.

The only sound was the gravel crunching under their heavy shoes as they walked. No one followed.

At the end of the street with the crowd far behind them they stopped, uncertain. Several alleys spiraled off from the intersection where they stood, and none gave any indication of leading to a center.

"Merde," Valerie muttered. "I do not want to wander around in this place any longer. If one more person lays a hand on me, I'm going to nally use this." She patted the hard object in her belt under her jacket.

"What? I was wetting my pants thinking they were going to kill us, and the whole time you had a gun?"

"Do you think one little .22 revolver would have held off the whole crowd? Besides, we're fugitives, dear. The last thing we need is to shoot up a village in Middle Egypt."

"Well, you might have to still, unless we can nd our way back to the truck. After all this time you'd think they'd come looking for us."

* 152 *

"Looks like they did, Derek." She pointed up to a terrace that projected over one of the streets, where something birdlike uttered its wings. Only its head was all wrong.

"Hello, cousin." Derek waved to the Ba of Rekemheb. "It's about time you showed up."

The Ba ew ahead and disappeared, but the truck stood, as agreed, near the village well. Two spindly palm trees cast thin, useless shadows over it. While they waited, Yussif and Auset had put up the tarpaulin over the truck bed, mercifully shading it from the deadly sun. A small crowd of children had gathered around it, eating what appeared to be Auset's pomegranates.

She came toward them. "We were beginning to worry. What did you nd out?"

"Nothing, really." Valerie took a long drink from her water bottle.

"Akhnaton's monotheism is pretty much like any other. Same pattern: one deity and one spokesman. I've decided I don't like this Aton or his chief promoter."

Derek fanned himself with his hat. "Valerie is no doubt soured by the fact that Akhnaton was the spitting image of Volker Vanderschmitt.

But geez, Valerie, tell them what happened afterward."

She took another drink. "The politics of religion happened. Derek got a little sunstroke and we took shelter inside a shrine. Some of the villagers saw us and hauled us up before the village imam. You were right, Yussif. It was reckless of us to attract attention in this part of Egypt."

"Val, honey, you're leaving out the best part! There we were, about to be stoned or cruci ed or something, and suddenly these security guys arrived. Police truck, ri es. They were in full force and they hauled the imam guy away, just like that! It was weird. Here we are on the run from the authorities, and they end up kicking around their own people for us!"

"That's what the imam was complaining about, though, wasn't it?

That the government favors foreigners over its own people."

"Right. I didn't think about that."

"In any case, the patrol didn't know who we were, but that won't help us for long. Now we've drawn attention to ourselves. When the report of the whole episode gets back to Cairo, someone will be looking * 153 *

for us. I suggest we get the hell away from this place."

Yussif opened the door to the truck cab. "Maybe is better to go in desert."

Valerie considered. "What about the military? Aren't they always out there on maneuvers? I'm not keen on explaining us to the nozzle of a tank."

Yussif shook his head. "Not so much tanks in desert. Most of time I see trucks. Army is not police. They bring water when wells are dry.

They look for terrorist sometimes, but not for little thief like us."

Unconvinced, Derek looked up at the truck canopy. "But are we equipped for the desert?"

Yussif shrugged. "We carry plenty water and some food. Truck is good."

Valerie gnawed her lip. "We've had one close call last night, and I'm sure word that we're down here will get back eventually. I think I'd rather risk the desert."

"I agree," Yussif con rmed. "I know this place. I think is okay."

He stepped up into the cab.

Valerie held her hand out to Derek, who had already climbed up onto the truck bed. With a single tug he hauled her up next to him. They sat down on either side of the cof n, waiting for the breeze of motion to blow off the cooking heat of the steel.

Yussif turned the wheel sharply and the vehicle veered west toward the Nile. After a moment Valerie took off her fedora, letting her sweat-damp hair nally cool.

Across from her, Derek stared into the middle distance. "I have a bad feeling about this, Valerie. We're going out into wasteland. People die out there."

She leaned back against her mat, found a comfortable position, and closed her eyes. "No one is going to die, I promise. Trust me."

He did not reply.

v People die out there. The phrase echoed in her mind as she awoke, parched. It was late afternoon, and they were already far out in the western desert. All that remained of the cultivated land along the river * 154 *

was a faint gray-green strip in the hazy distance. Derek was staring at the tracks that trailed off endlessly behind them.

"Any idea where we are?" she asked him across the wooden crate.

"Somewhere between hell and oblivion, I think." Derek pointed sideways with his thumb. "And over there is East Nothing. How's your cheek?"

She touched the spot in front of her ear. "Fine. Itches a little.

How's your head?"