"Fine, as long as he doesn't interfere. Oh, by the way, don't forget, tomorrow is Muslim Sabbath, so we have to get to the souq today and-"

The reverend appeared in front of them, all bags accounted for .

After a few moments his ominous retinue arrived, each one with a single suitcase. Bodyguards, it seemed, traveled light.

He stepped out of the shadows but kept a cautious distance, staying amidst the mass of people outside of customs. Well concealed, he watched the fi ve Americans arrive and be met by her . He saw it coalesce, the little family that he would soon take apart with sur gical precision.

* 38 *

Vulture's Kiss It gave him a particular thrill to hear her voice, though they were too far away for him to make out what she said. All of those in the cult would have to be gotten rid of, but she was the worst. She was the source and cause of his mission.

At fi rst he had thought she was simply one of those awful women that men had to endure in the professional world. But when he found out, through her own sickening account, what she did in her darkest moments and what went on in her fi lthy mind, he knew what he had to do.

Her physical presence revolted and confused him. He could barely stomach the fact that someone with her perversion enjoyed the authority of a university professor and the fame of a great discovery. That she had a boyish attractiveness simply added one more outrage. She ought to be disfi gured, repugnant.

He stood within the mass of passengers around the baggage carousel, watching her, and made up his mind. He would do her last.

* 39 *

10.

Father, Son, and Venus I think we have it sorted now," Derek said. "Pa, you'll come with Val and me in this taxi, and Mr . Dredding and his...colleagues in the one behind it."

Reverend Carter frowned faintly at the black-and-white Ladas that pulled up in front of them, but Valerie didn't bother to explain the noisy, smoky Russian vehicles that dominated the Cairo streets.

Derek got in the front seat next to the driver, abandoning Valerie to the reverend in the back. As the taxi took off, Derek twisted around and broke the awkward silence. "I've got prezzies," he said tunefully and fl uttered his eyelashes. In spite of the grim reason for their arrival, he was obviously trying to be his normal bright self. He opened a leather carry-on and withdrew a plastic bag. "I didn't have time to wrap them,"

he apologized, and fumbled for something at the bottom of the bag.

"This is for you." He reached over the back of his seat and dropped a small white plaster thing into Valerie's hand.

"The Venus di Milo?" She peered perplexed at the armless fi gurine that had become the world's cliche for "statue" and examined it to see if there was anything special about it. Except for her name scribbled on the bottom, she found nothing.

"I know it's not a real gift, but you told me Venus is the Roman version of Hathor. I bought it for you in the Louvre as a sort of good-luck piece, you know...to meet someone." He raised one eyebrow.

"Ah, well, thank you for worrying about my social life, but it' s not that bad. All right, maybe it is." She dropped the fi gurine into the knapsack at her foot. "What else have you got in there?"

"Let's see. I got this for Auset." He unfolded a bright orange scarf.

"And these for Nefi ." He held up pink leather shoes.

"Tap-dancing shoes? Derek! She' s only two years old. I think she's just learned how to walk without waddling."

"They're not for real dancing. They just have this tiny tap on the toe. Like training wheels."

Harlan Carter had detached himself from their conversation and * 40 *

Vulture's Kiss stared out the taxi window at the trash-strewn, drab gray landscape on his side of the road. For the fi rst-time visitor, Valerie knew, it gave a sad introduction to the Egyptian desert.

"Look what they've done to this place," he grumbled. "It used to be the land of milk and honey."

"So, Reverend Carter..." Valerie said lightly, "what exactly will you be preaching on at this...uh...synod?"

The reverend smiled without warmth. "As Derek might have told you, our church is affi liated with the Mission for the Family organization based in Atlanta. It has sponsored me as a guest preacher here."

"Yes, he did mention that." Valerie clasped respectful hands over her knees and waited for wisdom.

"What my son has probably not told you, since he does not believe it, is that these are the End of Days. But I counsel you to believe.

A great confl ict is arising, far beyond your imaginings, that will determine who is saved and who is lost. I have taken up the burden of trying to save as many souls as possible."

"Even in a Muslim country?"

"God loves the Muslims too, Miss Foret. They do not murder their unborn children as we do in the West, and they punish promiscuity and homosexuality." He did not look at his stepson as he spoke. "Since they ceased to have four wives, Muslims cherish family the way God intended it to be. They are heathens only because they have not heard the rest of God's message. I am here to get them to listen to it."

Valerie raised her eyebrows slightly. "The 'God-intended family.'

Interesting concept. And what would 'the rest' be?"

"That God loves them, but they have gone astray . It is true that they submit to God and they recognize Jesus Christ, for which I give them credit. But they have got to be made to recognize that Jesus is the one coming back to judge them, not Mohammed."

"I see."

"I am also here to look after my family."

Derek twisted around again. "It' s my family , Pa, not yours, and that's why I'm here. You don't have to be involved at all. I'll do whatever Auset needs me to, including staying in Egypt."

"Staying in Egypt? That's ridiculous. Your child is part of our family, and you should be raising her in your own country. Lord knows, you've spent little enough time there. A Christian man takes care of * 41 *

his own." He shifted in his seat toward Valerie. "Don't you agree, Ms.

Foret? Or are you of the Jewish faith?"

The overly delicate phrase "of the Jewish faith" irritated her .

"Ahh, no. Lapsed Catholic, I'm afraid."

The reverend lowered his eyes. "A shame, to give up your faith .

Jesus died for you, and He will soon call you before Him."

Derek winced. "Pa, please-"

Valerie felt the door creak open to her internal weapons locker .

She licked her lips. "Not for me, he didn't. I wasn't born yet."

Derek inhaled, as if to speak, then stopped. Nothing he could say would prevent the duel that was coming.

Harlan Carter brushed dust off his jacket as if it were fl akes of her blasphemy. "You didn't have to ask him, child. God loved you so much He let his son be crucifi ed for the sins of all men. For yours too."

Valerie squinted, turning the idea in her head like a jeweler studying a crystal. "Let me see if I understand this, Reverend. You mean God created a son, perfect in virtue, to suf fer the punishment for the rest of us, his other sinful children. And to show His love for the guilty ones, God let the innocent one be tortured to death on a Roman cross." Valerie looked at him directly. "That's pretty sadistic, don't you think?"

A plump pastoral hand went up between them, as if to project light from his palm into the darkness of her mind.

"Sadistic? Oh, child. You have no idea." He spoke in a rich baritone. "The creator of the universe is not warm and fuzzy . His plan for the world is a harsh one, but it is also full of mercy . When the Day comes, the Lord will descend from heaven in a robe that has been marked with blood. He will visit His wrath upon the sinful, and even the penitent will gnash their teeth. Salvation will be costly."

Valerie stifl ed the urge to smile. "This is the message you're going to preach in Cairo?"

"Not only that. The Egyptians must be told of the restoration of the nation of Israel and the rebuilding of the Temple of Solomon. All of Palestine must be reclaimed from the Mohammedans. It will be a hard pill to swallow, but it is God's will."

"I don't think they will welcome that message, Reverend."

"I know that. I have chosen the most diffi cult of all missions, and in the eleventh hour. Some will be obdurate."

Valerie looked back over her shoulder at the car behind them * 42 *

Vulture's Kiss carrying the lawyer and bodyguards. "I think they will be very obdurate, Reverend Carter."

Just then the taxi drew up to the Hyatt hotel, and the reverend swung himself from his seat through the open door . He stood up and checked to see if his bodyguards had followed. They had. He leaned back down to speak.

"Do not think I didn't notice your sarcasm, Ms. Foret. Your soul is yours to save or lose, but I will not let you harm my granddaughter . A Christian man takes care of his family. Good day to you."

* 43 *

11.

Always Home Well, I think that went rather well, don' t you?" she said as Derek moved around to the back seat and the taxi pulled away. "Please, Valerie. I need you to help me here, not fi ght with my stepfather. It's going to be hard enough to take care of Auset and Nefi , and keep him out of the way ." He tapped on the back of the driver 's seat. "Zamalek , please. Shari' al Zahir . Did I pronounce the street name correctly?" he asked Valerie.

"Perfect. Your Arabic is getting pretty good." She leaned forward and got the driver's attention again. "After Zamalek, please go on to the Shari al Hassan."

"You're not coming with me? I thought we both were going to Auset's."

"I decided I should give you two some private time together. After all, you need to discuss important things with her about your daughter.

Don't worry about me. I still have the same room near the souq where I'm perfectly comfortable. Plus I need to call the museum. I'll join you at Auset's house later this morning. Then we can go together to the souq to order Rekemheb's statue."

He leaned back against the taxi seat for a moment, looking helpless.

"What can I say? It must be so awful for her."

Valerie took his hand absentmindedly, comforting herself as well.

"Yussif was her bulwark. Ours too, in a way. He wanted nothing but to be a good man and to have a happy family."

"I know. I spent two vacations at their house in El Khar ga. Some people might have thought us a little weird, getting along that way, but Yussif was always easygoing. He was as much like a brother as I could ever imagine. So what happened on that train, anyway?"

"I don't know any more than what we both saw on the news. They think it was terrorists, but that's what they always say. They're mostly right, of course, but I don't see any context here. It's not like they killed a lot of foreigners like they did in the Valley of the Queens in '97."

* 44 *

Vulture's Kiss Derek moved his jaw around, as if he were actually chewing on a thought. "Do you think Yussif's in the underworld? In the Hall of Judgment where I found you? I've been wondering about that for days."The "Hallelujah Chorus" sounded suddenly from the vicinity of Derek' s hip. Valerie looked around. "What' s that?" The melody continued in dry, tinkly electronic tones.

"Sorry. Cell phone." He unhooked the palm-sized silver object from his belt and fl ipped it open with a deft fl ick of the thumb. "Hello?

Ach, Johannes. Nun, was ist ?" He lowered the phone for a moment.

"Sorry, Sweetie. My agent in Germany. It'll just take a min."

Valerie stared out the window at the shabby apartment buildings being built along the Avenue of the Pyramids. Badly reinforced, they collapsed occasionally during Cairo' s frequent tremors. She loved Cairo and the Cairenes, the fast-talking cynical city folk of Egypt, but she was glad she didn't have to stay in it for more than a few days at a time. Whether because of ineffi ciency, corruption, waste, or simply an exploding population, the quality of life in much of Cairo was poor, and the air in all of it was dreadful.

Three minutes later Derek clicked his cell phone shut with a fl ick of the hand. "Sorry about that. New engagement. Recital in March.

Some castle in Provence."

"Weren't you just in Paris?"

He smiled, wan. "I was in six countries in the last four months.

That's what's so crazy about my stepfather wanting me to bring Nefi 'home.' Home for me is all over the musical world."

"I know what you mean. I don' t travel the way you do, but I feel just the same whether I wake up in Brussels, New York, or Cairo.

Home's where my friends are."

"Tell me about it. Since last May, I've had goulash with Barenboim in Budapest..." He held up his fi ngers, wiggling each one as he enumerated. "Blinis with Rostropovitch in St. Petersber g, Sachertorte with Ozawa in Salzburg, croissants with a handsome baritone who shall remain unnamed in Paris, and in about fi fteen minutes, Arab chai with Auset in Cairo."

"Do I detect a theme here?" Valerie teased. "Or a just a man with sugar 'issyews?'"

He grinned back. "My point is, I don't have a sense of place. You * 45 *

don't either. It's partly our careers, of course, but we also know from Rekemheb that our ancient ancestors were Egyptian. Who cares about Atlanta or Brussels? Our family," he made little quotation marks with his fi ngertips. "Our 'family' started here, then wandered all over Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. We're kind of world Bedouins."

"Nice way of putting it." She thought about the Belgian orphanage that had darkened her childhood. It was the last place she would call home.He gazed up at the ceiling of the taxi for a moment. "Do you think they were like us, the ancestor Dereks and Valeries?"