Having secured the services of a driver and his ancient, battered town car, Zepp and I deal swiftly with officialdom. The commander, who is pleased that one of his patrols has apparently captured a Nazi spy, is uninterested in sharing the credit with a group of foreigners. This makes him remarkably incurious about our future plans. At Zepp's casual inquiry about whether the German has confessed to espionage, the commander says that the man has said nothing except to request aspirin for his headache. Tomorrow, the commander tells us, a graves detail will recover the body of our colleague. Tomorrow, I think, the Egyptians will surely discover the stolen antiquities.

Zepp directs the driver in what seems to be fluent Arabic to take us to our hotel and to return in one hour ready for the drive to Cairo. "Do you speak the language?" Zepp asks me.

"Read a little," I reply, "but I rarely speak it. I guess I'm better with dead languages than living."

He holds the door for me, and we enter a small lobby, dim and surprisingly cool. An Egyptian desk clerk asks, in English, if he can help us.

"We are with the young ladies who registered earlier," Zepp answers.

"Ah, yes, sir. You and your wife are in Room 212, a lovely corner room. The young ladies are in 210, which adjoins." The clerk smiles at me, obviously assuming I'm the wife.

Zepp motions for me to proceed him up the open stairway. Even in desert fatigues, with a coating of sand, he manages to look and act the gentleman.

Room 210 is at the end of the hall, and, as we approach it, I hear the soft murmur of voices. I think that Janice and Tereise are enjoying girl talk after their baths. I look forward to being clean and relaxed. The door is locked, and Zepp unlocks and opens it with a gallant flourish. I step through to see Janice standing in the middle of the room. Holst stands behind her, his right arm around her throat, pressing so tightly she struggles for air. His gun is pressed into her side.

Breen is seated comfortably on a settee on the right side of the room. In his hand is what looks like Tereise's automatic pistol. Between Breen and the door lies Tereise. She is on her side facing the door, and a thin line of blood trickles across her forehead.

"Tereise!" Zepp's cry is strangled, and he starts toward the still, blonde woman.

"Stop!" Breen orders. "She's all right. She was uncooperative, and Holst had to subdue her with a blow."

"If she's badly hurt. . . ," Zepp growls, but he stops his forward motion.

"She can't breathe," I say to Breen. He gives no sign he understands. "Janice can't breathe."

Breen glances at Holst, who loosens his hold. Janice takes a gasping breath, and her color starts to change from blue to her usual rosy shade. Her hat is gone, and her long, red-gold hair spills over her shoulders. Her green eyes are wide and, I think, a little frightened. We make eye contact, and I try to smile. She gives me a slow, deliberate wink.

"Do you have transportation out of here?" Breen asks. He is looking at Zepp.

"We have a decrepit car and a driver who says it will get us to Cairo."

"Change of plans. We go to Wadi Halfa," Breen tells him.

Zepp shakes his head. "That's across the border in the Sudan. The car will never make it that far."

"Then you'll make other arrangements," Breen insists. "You and one of the women will travel with us."

"This one," Holst says, and this is the first time I have heard him speak English.

Breen flicks another glance his way. "That would be amusing, I'm sure, but Zepp's woman will be the better choice. To assure his continued cooperation." Breen motions with his pistol for Zepp and me to sit on the low couch on the other side of the room.

"Let me see to Tereise," Zepp says quietly. Breen studies him, then nods. Zepp kneels beside Tereise and gently brushes back her fine hair. She stirs, and he lifts her easily in one motion. He places her in one corner of the couch and sits beside her. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he gently ministers to the small wound on her temple.

When I choose to sit on a straight back chair instead of the couch, Breen says nothing. For a moment, Holst is between me and Breen's gun, but then he steps back, dragging Janice with him.

Holst says, a little louder than before, "I want to take this woman."

"We take the blonde," Breen says patiently.

"Why not take me?" I ask. "Tereise is hurt, and you know that Dr. Covington will be nothing but trouble."

Breen seems to consider it, then shakes his head. "No, the other one is more important to Zepp. Who cares what happens to you?"

"Why go to this Wadi Halfa anyway?" I ask. "The authorities have Zeigmann, but he isn't talking. No one knows anything about the theft of the antiquities. Why don't you just return to Cairo? I'm sure Mr. Zepp could help you leave the country."

"Is that right, Mr. Zepp?" Breen asks. "Could you help Holst and me leave the country? Or maybe you could help us with the authorities if we just turned ourselves in? How would that be?"

"I don't think I could help you," Zepp replies.

"That's what I thought." Breen looks bored with the conversation. He speaks to Zepp. "Is your car here?"

"No. The driver will be back in an hour."

Breen sighs. "Then we have some time. Holst, you want that one? Fine, I have these under control. Take her into the adjoining room."

Looking like a dog whose master has just tossed him a bone, Holst tightens his grip on Janice again and, almost lifting her from the floor, moves toward the closed door beside Breen's settee. Just as he passes between Breen and me, Janice puts both hands on the arm across her throat. Using this as a point of leverage, she lifts both legs, then brings them back to connect solidly with Holst's shins. I launch myself from my chair and grab for Holst's neck, trying to get the same kind of stranglehold he has on Janice, but there just isn't any neck to grab. He releases his hold on Janice to grapple with me, and she hangs on his gun hand, struggling to keep him from raising it. She bites him on the wrist and, with a howl of rage, he pulls loose and backhands her across the room. I grab the back of his shirt and pull, falling as I do so, my backward momentum pulling him down with me. As we fall, gunfire seems to fill the room.

When it becomes quiet again, acrid smoke taints the air. I am lying under Holst, who is not moving. I feel a sticky liquid on my hands and face. Janice rolls Holst off me and is yelling, "Mel, where are you hurt? Oh, you're bleeding. I'm sorry, Mel. . . ."

"It isn't mine," I say.

"What?"

"The blood. It must be Holst's." She helps me sit and still searches for bullet holes.

Zepp kneels beside us and picks up Holst's gun. In his other hand he holds the same small gun with which he shot Gruner. He returns to Tereise, who says, "What happened? Where's Janice?"

"Don't worry," Zepp says. "Everything's all right now."

There is a pounding at the door, and then the scared face of the desk clerk looks in on our little battleground. Janice says, "Get a doctor. And the police."

"A doctor?" I ask. "For Tereise?" I look at Holst, whose face is gone, obviously the victim of his partner's poor marksmanship. I look at Breen, still sitting upright, a neat bullet hole in his forehead. Clearly, the doctor isn't for them.

"For you," Janice says gently. I realize she is pressing hard against my side. "Dear Mel, you are shot."

End of Part 17

Part 18

"Antone, freshen my drink?" Tereise asks. Antone rises and takes her glass to a small bar he has set up on the deck of the Hatshepsut.

It is early evening, and a cooling breeze has started to blow from the delta. The faint smell of lemons wafts from the torches Zepp has lit around the deck to hold the river insects at bay. Tereise and I sit or, rather, recline in stately splendor on the wooden deck chairs of the Hat, Tereise's facing mine. Tereise still wears the short sun dress of the afternoon. Elegant and cool in tropical whites, Zepp sits on a dining chair from the salon when he's not seeing to the needs of his guests. Janice perches at the end of Tereise's lounge, and Janice, well, Janice is dressed as Janice.

I'm wearing light pleated slacks and a crisply starched blue blouse, a style I've found to my liking. There are pillows behind my head and next to my side, and Janice seems anxious to plump them as necessary--or as not. Soon I'll tell her that I've recovered from my wound, but I decide that time is not yet. I smile, and, not knowing the reason, Janice smiles back.

Tereise accepts her drink and says, "Thanks, dear, now I think you had better sit down. There are some things that need to be discussed." Antone obeys and looks expectantly at his love.

"Janice," is all she says.

Janice starts to rise, then settles again. "Antone, there are some questions I, we, need to ask, and I hope you'll be able to answer them in a satisfactory way."

"Satisfactory?" He looks to Tereise. "What is this about?"

"Antone, while Melinda was in the hospital, you know that I was questioned by the Egyptian authorities," Janice starts.

"Of course," he confirms. "I helped you. Remember how I told you of my conversation with the Foreign Minister. . . ." "Right," Janice interrupts, "very helpful. You know, of course, that the Egyptians were so happy to retrieve the antiquities hidden at the Dahkla Oasis and to have the whole smuggling ring destroyed, that they couldn't do enough for Mel and me."

He nods. "The Foreign Minister told me as much."

"Did you know also that I was questioned by British Security?" she asks. "They were interested in whether the smuggling was connected with the Nazis."

"Yes, of course," Zepp agrees. "I also told you that I spoke with people in the British Consulate on your behalf."

"Yes, I remember what you told me," Janice says, "but, if you did hold that conversation, it really wasn't necessary. British Security had no interest in me whatsoever. They were actually surprised when I volunteered the problem with my entry documents. They suggested that I take it up with the American Embassy and the Egyptian authorities."

Antone smiles. "Then why were those two British Security officers chasing you all around Cairo and making inquiries about you?"

"I've thought about that, and I've decided that the men who broke down Mel's door were Holst and Zeigmann. We never saw anything but their backs, but the builds were right. And Zeigmann's English is good enough to pull it off."

I add, "And Janice's landlord mentioned that the Security Officers who questioned him had European accents. Would an Egyptian, as familiar as he would be with his country's occupiers, refer to their accents as European? He said they were British Security because that's what they told him. He seemed more worried that they would bring in the Egyptian police."

"The only other person who said two big British Security Officers were inquiring about me and my papers was you, Antone," Janice points out. "You said that you overheard them at the club, and they were questioning the owner and the bartender about me."

"That's right," he says, "and those men couldn't have been the two Germans, because Holst and Zeigmann weren't in Cairo then."

"Right," Janice agrees, "and that brings me to my next point. I'm sure that Mel and I lost the Germans after the incident in the alley behind the club. I drove around for a while to make sure before coming aboard the Hat. We sailed the Hat downriver almost immediately. So how did they practically beat us to Cashi Zun?"

Zepp sighs. "I don't know, Dr. Covington, how?"

"Someone had to tell them that we had left Cairo. Someone who realized immediately that the Hat was gone and knew what that meant."

Zepp is silent.

"Another thing," I add. "When Gruner questioned Janice, she told him she left the fragments in Cairo. How did he know she had them with her on the boat?"

"He said that?" Zepp asks. I nod. "Well, he must have been guessing because there's no way he could know."

Janice corrects him. "Unless a certain chatty spy told someone I had the fragments with me, and that someone had a short wave radio he used to contact Gruner and company."

Zepp rises. "This is ridiculous. I don't have to sit here and listen to this from people who are supposed to be my friends."

"Sit down, Antone." Tereise's voice is no different from when she usually orders him around, but her brown eyes are icy, showing none of their usual warmth. Zepp lowers his eyes to the silver derringer in her hand. Where did she hide that? I think. As small as the gun is, her costume provides little in the way of hiding places.

Zepp sits. "Go on," Tereise says to Janice.

"I've tried to figure out a way you could have warned Breen and the others we were coming to the Dahkla Oasis, to account for their leaving the tent when we were on our way." She shakes her head sorrowfully. "I'm afraid I can't pin that one on you. It must have been plain bad luck, for us and for Gruner. Tereise said she got the drop on Gruner. That's possible, but I experienced how quick Gruner was. It could be that he saw you, Antone, and didn't see a need to shoot it out. Then Tereise came to warn us that the others had escaped. She left you to guard Gruner with his own gun. And, as soon as she was out of sight, you shot him."

"Why would I do that?" Zepp asks. "According to you, Gruner and I were on the same side."

"Oh, but you were," Janice confirms. "You were the contact who could get the artifacts out of the country so they could be sold. That's how you were so sure about how to get to the oasis and knew exactly where to park the truck so it couldn't be seen from the camp. You had been there many times."

"I shot Gruner because he came toward me."

"If he did, it was because he expected you to give him the gun, not its contents."

"I also shot him because of what he did to you, Janice," Zepp claims.

Janice studies him briefly, searching his face for some truth in this statement. "I hope that was part of why it was so easy, Antone, I really do. But I believe you mainly shot him to keep him from telling the authorities about their diplomatic contact, about you."

"That doesn't make any sense," Zepp argues. "If that was the case, why didn't I eliminate Zeigmann, too? You sent me by myself to check on him. Mel's pipe was right there. All it would have taken was another blow to the head."

"It certainly sounds like you considered it," Janice observes. "I think you decided it was an unnecessary risk. You knew, as I did, that Zeigmann wasn't the type to talk. And he never has."

"Except to ask for aspirin," I throw in.

Janice continues, "Let's go on to the hotel room at Wadi Halfa. When Breen and Holst argued about which woman they would take with them, Breen referred to Tereise as 'Zepp's woman.' "

"I can explain that," Zepp says eagerly. "Breen was around the club many times, and he saw me with Tereise. I think we even may have talked about her."

"I'll bet you did," Tereise comments.

Janice pats Tereise's foot, but is careful to stay out of the line of fire between Tereise and her lover.

"I'll concede that Breen could have connected Tereise with you because of talking with you at the club," Janice says. "However, I'm talking about the reason he gave Holst for taking her with you. It was to insure your continued cooperation. Continued, Antone, as if you had already helped them. And there was one more thing about that encounter that was puzzling, my old friend, and it was the thing that proved fatal to Breen."

"What's that?" he asks, but I see his eyes flicker to the derringer.

"When you entered the hotel room, neither Holst nor Breen searched you for a gun."

"They didn't search Miss Pappas either."

"Oh, but Zeigmann and Holst had searched both Mel and me in Harpsoptah's tomb. And they found that I carried a gun, and Mel didn't. Besides, look at Mel. She's hardly the gun-moll type." I nod at Janice, and she smiles back. "You, on the other hand, Antone, a tall, well-built gentleman, wearing your manly desert fatigues, I would think the bad guys would just assume you were armed."

"I never carry a gun," Zepp points out.

"That's exactly my point, dear Antone. Anyone who knows you well knows that you don't carry a gun. What is it you always say? It ruins the line of your suits? Breen and Holst didn't search you because they knew you and knew you weren't armed. They didn't know you had Gruner's gun. Too bad for Breen he didn't know something else that Tereise and I know."

"What's that?"

"That you are an excellent shot."

I add, "And too bad for Holst that Breen wasn't."

"Right. And good for you."

We sit in silence, and this time it is less than companionable.

Finally, Antone Zepp speaks. "If what you believe about me is true, why haven't you turned me over to the authorities? What do you want?"

End of Part 18

Part 19

Janice leans toward Zepp and ticks off our demands. "First, we want you to admit that you were the contact that helped Gruner and his gang to smuggle stolen antiquities out of the country. Second, we want to know your part in the deaths of my father and of Tekmet. No, I haven't forgotten about Tekmet. Third, we want to know why you were involved with murderers and thieves. And, finally, we want you to accept the punishment we have decided on. Although, to be honest, you won't have much choice in the matter. Your turn to talk."

Zepp's eyes rest briefly on Tereise. Seeing no comfort there, he starts to speak. "It started before the war with my using my country's diplomatic pouch to do favors for friends. Someone might need to get some currency out of one country and into another. Maybe there was a gem to be transported, and it seemed a waste to pay the duties involved with taking it through customs."

"And maybe answering questions about where the gem came from would be inconvenient. Tell the truth," Janice warns him.

"When Tereise came to Egypt, I got myself assigned to this country. No one really cared where I went. The Nazis had already taken over my homeland, and the government in exile had more to worry about than the posting of a playboy diplomat."

"And you met Breen at the club," Tereise adds.

"Yes, and it turned out he knew about my activities before the war. He asked if I could still perform such a service. It started out with small, but valuable, items, but soon I was arranging to get larger things, gold and other antiquities, out of the country. Most eventually went to your country, Janice, to rich Americans with a desire for Egyptian art and culture." Zepp smiles at the memory. "I was never good at much of anything, except having a good time. Strangely enough, I was good at this, and it was like discovering my calling."

"You were working with Nazi scum," Janice reminds him.

"Well, that was something I soon discovered," he confesses. "At first, I really did think Breen was just a Swiss businessman, forced into dishonesty by the sudden restrictions on the antiquities trade. By the time I knew what he and Gruner and the others were really like, I was in too deep. It was just too late."

"Two," Janice says.

"Your father was already dead when I got involved, Janice. I didn't know for a long time that most of the artifacts were coming from his dig at Cashi Zun. When I learned the connection, I asked Breen about it. He said that your father died in an accidental cave-in. Gruner took advantage of it by bribing an official to report that the entire tomb was destroyed. Then he had Zeigmann blast open the entrance, and they looted the treasures from the tomb. A few things Gruner claimed to have found at Dahkla Oasis, so he could build his scientific reputation."

"Tekmet?"

"Breen was there when he met you at the club. Just before the lights went out, he asked me what the connection was."

"And you told him?"

"I didn't know," Zepp says. "I don't even know whether Breen had anything to do with the lights. I think he did, Janice, and that he was trying to get to you and Miss Pappas. But he already knew who Tekmet was, and, after that meeting, Breen sent someone to follow him."

Janice considers the possible truth of these statements. "It makes sense that Gruner knew about Tekmet. Gruner sometimes visited my father's dig, and Tekmet was often hanging around. One thief might know another. And we've already figured out that Mel's boss was feeding Gruner information."

I sigh and think of our decision not to turn Dr. Krykos into the authorities. We can only hope he's learned his lesson. Lie down with dogs, and you get up with fleas.

"Three."

"That's the easiest," Zepp says. "I did it for money. I've spent all mine, you know. And with the Nazis plundering my homeland, there won't be any more. My poor salary couldn't begin to maintain the life I live, and even that hasn't been paid since the government went into exile. Breen and Gruner paid me well." We look around the Hatshepsut, at the wines and liquors on the nearby table, Zepp's expensive clothes. . . . I wonder if Janice weighs these against her father's and Tekmet's lives.

Tereise's voice replaces Janice's. "Now for number four. We've talked crime, so now let's look at punishment."

Zepp is sure. "You'll turn me over to the British or Egyptian authorities, of course."

"Wrong," Tereise says. "There's such a thing as diplomatic immunity. Even if that doesn't completely protect you, there's the matter of influence. You chose to shorten your last name, but everyone in power knows of your famous family. No, I don't think punishment through the official route would be either swift or sure."

"Then what, ladies?" Zepp says, some confidence slipping from his voice. "Am I to believe that you're simply going to shoot me and throw me overboard?"

Tereise smiles, and I notice how small and pointed her teeth are. "Not shoot you, dear, unless I have to. One idea we had was to throw you overboard, but not until we sailed upstream and found a particularly large and hungry Nile croc." Zepp's eyes pass from Tereise to Janice and finally settle on me. I smile pleasantly.

Tereise continues, "Unfortunately, that idea was voted down. 2 to 1."

Zepp glares at Janice. "I can guess who voted for it."

"No," Tereise says, "surprisingly, Janice and Mel were the ones who voted against it. Although I think Mel's sympathies mainly lay with the poor crocodile. We came up with several variations, but we finally decided to let Janice choose. She, after all, has borne most of the injuries in this case."

"What did you decide?" Zepp asks Janice. "What do I have to do?"

"Leave," she answers.

"I don't understand."

"All you have to do is leave. You can take a ship, an airplane, you can walk across the desert, or swim across the Mediterranean; none of us care."

"I can't believe you're just letting me go," Zepp says in wonder. "Janice. . . ."

"Your punishment is exile, Antone," Janice cuts him off. "You may take with you your passport and the clothes on your back. If you have any money in your elegant pockets, you can take that. Before you go, you sign over the Hatshepsut to Tereise and give her the number of you bank account in Switzerland. Don't even try to say you don't have one. Tereise and her friends will have uses for the money, either now or after the war. Do you agree?"

Zepp nods his head, still counting his good fortune.

"As a condition of your exile, you won't ever return to anyplace you've been before this day," Janice adds.

"What? I don't understand."

Tereise explains, "Just what Janice says. Once you leave here, you can go anyplace you want, as long as you've never been there before. That cuts out London, Paris, Berlin, Rome, any other place you've already lived or visited, and, of course, your own homeland. If any of us, Janice, Mel, or I, learn that you have violated your exile, you'll be killed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Zepp tries.

"Look at me, Antone," Tereise commands. He reluctantly meets her eyes. "I will kill you myself or have others do it. Many of my acquaintances are spending the war learning about the infliction of pain and death. They are learning from experts."

Janice says, "I said before that you wouldn't have much choice in the matter of your punishment, but I guess that isn't true. You do have a decision to make. Death now, this instant, or life on our terms. Which is it?"

"I'll leave," he says."

Janice smiles. "Good choice, Antone. I always thought you were stupid, but I may have to revise my opinion."

"Five," I say quietly.

Janice looks surprised. "Five? Mel, we never talked about any five."

"I know. I added it myself." I turn to Zepp. "The last piece of the stele. I want it now."

End of Part 19

Part 20

Janice and I sit on folding chairs in a military airport hanger near Cairo. With the final defeat of Rommel's tanks, some travel restrictions have been relaxed, and the British Consulate has agreed to help us leave the country."People are always cooperative when it means getting rid of me," Janice has said of this offer.

Zepp is long gone, and, if he's true to his word, we'll never hear of him again.

Tereise has sold the Hatshepsut to a British government official. Janice's comment on this: "I wonder how long the Egyptians will let him keep it when the war is over." Never one for politics, I have no opinion. Tereise has quietly left the country, to look, she says, at a place called Palestine.

Janice is going home with me to South Carolina while I finish recuperating from my wound. I feel fine already, but I haven't told her yet. We'll have to take a round-about route to get there, avoiding war zones and U-boats as best we can, but I know we'll arrive eventually, and the journey will be an adventure. Looking at my small friend in her khaki and leather, with her old bush hat pulled low over her face, I wonder what Aunt Helen will make of her. Then I grin. Even Aunt Helen will be no match for Janice.

Janice glances at me. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about seeing my family again."

"I don't have a family anymore," she says, "but I think I can understand how you feel."

"Our only families aren't the ones we're born into. Isn't Tereise your family? Aren't I?"

She doesn't answer, but I think I see a nod. "I have a present for you," I say.

"Really?"

"Look in your knapsack. I slipped it in just before we left my hotel." With a gesture, I urge her on.

>From the knapsack, she pulls a large sheet of paper, rolled up like a scroll. Slowly, she unrolls it.

"You know that we all agreed to turn the four fragments of the Gabrielle stele over to the Egyptian government. It was the right thing to do. But before we did, I copied down the hieroglyphics from Zepp's piece."

"GABRIELLE stele?" she questions.

"Yes. You'll understand. Go on and read it."

THE SUN BEATS DOWN upon the travelers as they cross the desert sands. This is a caravan of comfort, carrying Ma'Kare,' wife of the great Osorkon, prince of Heracleopolis, high priest of the god Ptah. Far from any city or oasis, bandits come across the desert, white-robed, riding pure white horses, hearts as hot as the sun. Guards pledged to defend the princess die bravely, cut by swords, as grain before the scythe. Others try to flee the bandits' harshness, but they are caught, and they, too die. The bandits take the goods and gold and princess.

Upon the bloody sand, the bandits take their ease and argue about the division of the spoils. The princess can be heard crying above the wailing of the rising desert wind. Out of the halo of the sunset come defenders of the crying princess. A warrior woman and her companion. With stealth and strength they attack and leave no bandit standing. Just then comes the Khamsin, storm that heralds summer, but chokes both man and beast.

That night a babe is born. Its mother hands it to the warrior woman. "Here, take my son to his father. Here is my seal. Take it as well." The warrior woman holds the newborn. The seal, a ring, she puts on her own finger, never guessing its royal message or of the bloodlines of the child.

The storm has scattered camels and horses, none remaining. The warrior and her friend walk on. They save the water for the baby, using little to quench their thirst. Finally, the smaller stumbles, says, No more, I can't go on. The warrior will go on and save the child, carried snug within her desert robe, leaving her friend a few sips of water and a promise to return.

The babe brought to Pharaoh's city, to the very temple grounds, the ring is shown, the story told. Prince Osorkon gives his own horse to the woman, fastest steed in Pharaoh's stable, to return and find her friend. Like the Khamsin, rides the woman, sweeping through the desert, hot and dusty, heading west. In this endless desolation, she despairs. How can she find her friend?

But she does and brings her water, holds her gently, saves her life. Returning to fair Heracleopolis, they find Osorkon celebrating his new son and mourning for his wife. Osorkon makes a declaration. Forever will this woman warrior be the object of adoration, friend forever to Prince Osorkon. The son he names Shoshenk for his own father. The woman will be called Omm Shoshenk, second mother to the boy.

The sun-haired companion tells this story, and I, Harpsoptah, write it down.

The End