The Lucifer Gospel

7

Hilts delivered the Norton back to its owner then walked back along the tree-shaded street to where he’d dropped Finn off at the Hotel Longchamps. She sat at a secluded table in one corner of the second-floor terrace, sipping a cup of American coffee and looking out over the upscale neighborhood on the island of Zamalek. Here there was nothing of the terrible scenes she had just witnessed. No crowds, ho haze of choking dust, just the quiet movement of traffic on the pleasant street below, the rustle of a breeze in the trees and a distant glimpse of the river a few blocks away. It could just as easily have been somewhere in Westchester or Mount Vernon. The City of the Dead was nothing more than a distant whispered nightmare in a place like this. Beside her, Hilts sat down, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. He ordered a tall glass of iced tea and then ignored it for a long while.

Finn spoke at last. “I just saw a little boy murdered and I saw you shoot a man to death and you made it look like target practice. You made it look as though it wasn’t the first time. The police are looking for whoever killed that man and I’m involved and I want to know just what the hell is going on.”

“I’m not sure.”

“What about that man who was chasing after me? Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

“He couldn’t have known I’d be there unless you told him.”

“I never saw him before. All I know is that one of Baqir’s kids found me and told me you were in trouble and I came after you.”

“With a gun.”

“That’s right, with a gun.”

“Explain that.”

“That’s why I went to the City of the Dead in the first place. It’s not as easy as it used to be to just put a handgun in your luggage and bring it through customs.”

“I thought you were there to take pictures.”

“I was.”

“So if I phoned National Geographic they’d know what I was talking about.”

“Talk to a guy named Russ Tamblyn.”

“You still haven’t explained about the gun.”

“It was necessary.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust Adamson for one thing, and I don’t like our so-called liaison with the Libyan government.”

“Who’s that?”

“A man named Mustapha Hisnawi. He’s supposed to be some kind of archaeologist, but from what I hear he’s also a full-tilt colonel in the Haiat amn al Jamahiriya: the Jamahiriya Security Organization. The Libyan Secret Police.”

“Where do you come by that kind of information?”

“I’ve got a lot of friends, and like I told you, I read a lot.”

“You seem to shoot a lot too.”

“From time to time.”

“Where did you learn that particular skill? Not from reading books.”

“Boy Scouts.”

“Oh, sure.”

“It’s true. I got a merit badge. I was also in the marines for a few years.”

“I’m not sure I believe any of this.”

“Believe what you like. All I know is that guy looked like he was about to chop you in half.”

“And instead he chopped Baqir in half.”

“I was too late. I’m sorry about that. I would give anything to have been able to prevent that.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to be sorry if you hadn’t gone there looking for a gun.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“How can you be that callous? A child is dead.”

“I didn’t kill him, that son of a bitch with the sword did. A son of a bitch who was chasing you, I might add, not me.”

“Which brings me back to my original point-why would he be chasing me?”

“Something to do with the expedition?”

“Like what? I’m supposed to be a technical illustrator and cartographer. I’ll be drawing site diagrams and artifacts. It’s not like it’s very high up the ladder.”

“Some old enemy?”

“I don’t have any enemies like that.”

Hilts thought for a moment. “Who hired you?”

“Adamson’s office in California.”

“Was there an interview?”

“Over the phone. The placement office at NYU sent them a bunch of possibles. They short-listed me, I sent in my rйsumй along with a list of references, and then I had a five-minute phone interview.”

“Who did you talk to?”

“A guy named Forrest, one of Adamson’s personnel people.”

“Same person who hired me.”

“Is it important?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t like mysteries.”

“Neither do I.”

“So why was the guy after me?” She shook her head. “He must have been following us for quite a while. As soon as you and I got separated he was onto me. As though he’d been waiting for me.”

“That’s impossible. No one knew we were coming.”

“So you say.” Finn shrugged.

“I’m lying?”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I lie?” he answered.

“I don’t think this is going to get us anywhere.”

“Apparently not.” They fell into a long silence. Finally Hilts spoke again. “Aliyah,” he said, nodding to himself.

“What?”

“Not what, who. Aliyah is the woman I borrowed the motorcycle from. She was the one who told me where to find a gun in the City of the Dead. She knew where I was going.”

“You think she told somebody?”

“I can’t think of anyone else.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

He grimaced. “For money. It’s the only reason she does anything.”

“On whose behalf?”

“Adamson’s?”

“He hires us, then he kills us?” Finn shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. And it still doesn’t explain why that man was specifically after me.”

“Maybe he wasn’t,” said Hilts, lifting his shoulder. He ran a finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass. “Maybe he planned to come after you first, and when he was finished with you he’d be waiting for me back at the bike. He’d be rid of both of us, just like whoever hired him to do the job wanted.”

“And how do we find out who that was?”

Hilts picked up his glass at last and held it up in a mock toast. “By getting up bright and early tomorrow and flying into enemy territory.”