Chapter 7 spies and mazes
The first thing visitors to Egyptian belly dancing notice is the tight stockings the dancers wear—a legacy of the Puritan president Abdel Nasser.At least Scotty Jean, who was spending time at the bar in Sahara City, noticed it at first glance.Sahara City is an exotic nightclub located in a giant tent among the pyramids.If Jeffrey Rand sees the city of Sahara, it will bring back a memory of his pyramid adventure a few years ago, which is still thrilling to this day.Scotty Jean has no similar problems.He was just twenty-six years old, and this was his first trip to Egypt.He likes the pyramids, and Aiwu and Udi like this tent club.
Scottie fled the United States during the anti-war demonstrations and has since traveled the world, making his home away from home.When he planted the bomb in the Florida draft bureau, he didn't expect to get this far because a janitor was killed.Scottie had no intention of killing anyone, and when he knew he had caused a catastrophe, he was seriously ill for three days and three nights, but the court would not give him extra justice.He was now in exile abroad.Among the underground gangs, he was a heroic figure.But with the advent of peace and Nixon's resignation, the public has long since forgotten his name.
Some people also forgot about him, such as Linda, his girlfriend at the time.He fled to Canada and then to the Middle East, where she had promised to find him.He waited a full year, believing in her promise, until someone from a secret organization gave him a newspaper clipping reporting her marriage to a young IBM systems engineer.
For the past year, he's lived in Turkey and then in Jerusalem, Scottie living off his wit.He abides by the laws and regulations in Turkey and lives for a few months with a young and beautiful typist who is willing to share his joys and sorrows.After they broke up, he came to Cairo again.He's sure his next adventure isn't far away, as close as the blond woman sitting at the bar right now.
"Your first time here?" Maybe she felt his gaze and asked suddenly.
"Yes, I just arrived in Cairo a few days ago."
"Oh, you're an American!"
"And you're English. I guess you can't hide it."
They had a good laugh, and then he offered to buy her a drink.She appeared to be about his age and called herself Aranta Chesman.She readily agreed to his proposal for a treat.
"Aranta. When I was in America, I lived in North Florida, not far from Atlanta."
"My name comes from the Atlantic Ocean," she said with a smile, "not the city."
"Are you here alone?" A tent in the desert is not like a singles club.
"I'm traveling with my brother. We're in the toy business in the UK, but business hasn't been good lately."
"It's the same in all walks of life," he reassured her. "What kind of toy?"
"Dolls, games—almost everything."
After two drinks, he asked, "Can I drive you home? My rental car is parked outside."
She threw her head back and laughed. "Only the Americans would be stupid enough to rent a car in Cairo! The way the Egyptians drive is completely suicidal. For a little more money, you can hire a driver."
"I don't know that. But my desire to serve you has not changed."
She seemed to be searching for something in the crowd.Suddenly she said, "That's my brother—come and meet him."
Richard Chessman was tall and lanky, with deep-set eyes that gave off an aggressive vibe.Although Richard is warm and friendly to him, Scottie does not like him at first sight. "Like those belly dancing girls?" Richard asked as they shook hands. "Of course, the dancers in Beirut are better."
"Istanbul is not bad," Scottie agreed. "I think the dancing here is too heavy."
"You men!" Alanta complained, pulling him aside, "Have you ever seen the sound and light show of the pyramids?"
"I haven't seen anything, I really want a guide."
"Okay," she readily agreed, "Come on then. We're just in time for the English commentary. They do it every night in English, French, German and Arabic."
Scottie followed her out of the club and stood for a moment watching the changing lights on the nearby pyramid. "It's a bit far to walk," he decided, "let's drive there."
But when they got in the car, she pressed his hand to the ignition. "Let's just watch it like this for a while. We've got plenty of time."
"Of course. It's all up to you."
She pressed her lips to his.Kissing her, he wanted to drive her back to his house near Lambs Square right away.The pyramids can wait another night.
Suddenly, the car door was opened, and Richard Chessman got in the car. "Scottie, there's something we'd like to ask you for," he said softly.
This was the first time Rand's former boss, Hastings, came to his house for dinner since Rand's resignation from the Covert Communications Agency.Thinking back to their conversation on the phone, Rand couldn't recall how this had happened, but he half suspected that Hastings had somehow managed to invite him over.
"Your home is so sweet," said the intelligence officer, sipping his coffee. "Your dinner is delicious. I should come here more often."
Layla and Rand exchanged a look. "We live so far out in the country," she said, "that I'm afraid we'll alienate all our friends in London. I'm teaching, Geoffrey's writing—"
"Ah, by the way—what happened to your book, Rand? Did it give away all our secrets?"
"No." Rand uneasily changed his sitting position on the chair, knowing that Hastings would soon reveal the true purpose of his visit.
"There are two weeks until the fall semester starts. You two should go out for a walk."
"Oh?" Leila cheered up. "So, Mr. Hastings, where do you suggest we go? Or Moscow?"
"No, no! That thing in Moscow was unfortunate. I was thinking of Cairo. You haven't been back since you got married, have you, Layla?"
Rand saw joy mixed with disbelief flash across her face.He knew that she regretted not going to Cairo for their honeymoon, which they had planned to do early this summer.Wet autumn arrived early this year, making Leila miss the warm sands of her hometown even more.However—"Let's talk straight," Rand expressed doubts for her, "What happened in Cairo?"
"It's not what happens, it's who is in Cairo."
"So who's in Cairo?"
"Richard Chessman and his sister. Remember that thing at the toy company last winter?"
"How could I forget!" Rand poured some more coffee. "They escaped from you. What did they do this time?"
"That's the problem—we don't know! I can't officially send anyone there, and you're the only one who can help us, Rand."
"They both know me."
"But they don't know Layla."
"Let's put it this way. You seem to have forgotten that I quit the Covert Communications Service when I got married—she didn't get into it."
Hastings sighed and sipped his coffee. "Rand, just for the last time, I won't bother you again. You two can go to Cairo for free."
Rand turned to his wife. "Listen, Layla. What do you think?"
She found the answer in his eyes and said, "I want to see Cairo again."
"Okay!" Hastings said loudly. "When can you start at the earliest? Tomorrow?"
Rand smiled and shook his head, "It's the same old Hastings, right? Give us at least forty-eight hours."
"Thirty-six hours. I can put you on the Thursday morning plane. And you, Layla, will have plenty of time when you get back to start school in the fall."
"Hopefully. I have to admit that if I told my students I just got back from the pyramids, they'd be impressed."
"Where are we going to find Chesman and his sister?" Rand asked.
"She was seen with an American fugitive named Scotty Jean. He was wanted by the US for the terrorist bombing. He had a house near Lambs Square and they seemed to be living together."
"Why didn't the Americans arrest him?"
"Even if they have agreed in the treaty, extradition from these Middle Eastern countries is very difficult. Besides, we are more interested in Chessman's network now. They are playing tricks."
"Let's go and see," Rand said.His heart had already flown to Egypt—the place where he and Leila met years ago.
Scotty Jean woke up and opened his eyes, and immediately found himself lying in bed alone.Although it was not yet dawn, Aranta got up to prepare breakfast.He listened to her moving in the tiny kitchen and imagined her in the thin sheer silk tunic he had bought her with the down payment Richard had given him. of.Thinking of Richard, he suddenly remembered what day it was. "How is it?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen.
She was buttering the bread and looked up at him. "Good morning. I don't want to wake you up, but I have to go. I meet Richard at eight."
"When will you come back?"
She hesitated. "I'm not sure. Tonight or tomorrow."
After breakfast, she left.He had a full day and decided to go to the pyramids one more time.During the week he and Aranta met, they saw two sound and light shows, with commentary in English, French, German and Arabic on a loop throughout the four shows, which they watched throughout.This was because Richard had told Aranta that he wanted Scotty to spy on a man named Ali Zamar, who played recorded commentary every night, with occasional special speeches in Arabic.Zamar was a short, dark man in a suit and a red cape.He would never have paid him much attention if Aranta hadn't pointed it out to him. "That's Zamal," she said on the first night of the show. "He's a dangerous guy."
He often doesn't think about the situation he's facing until the next day.Richard and Aranta recognized him from some old newspaper photographs and arranged to meet him.They knew he had killed a man in the country, and they knew they could use him for their own purposes.Scotty wouldn't report them to the police, even if Aranta told him they wanted him to kill Zamal.However, he still hopes that one day when everything in the past is history, he can return to his roots and return to the United States.Now Richard asked him to kill, he didn't know if he could do it.
He spent the afternoon wandering under the pyramids, watching American tourists take pictures.Some people bravely climbed on the back of the tired-looking camel, and the shutter of the camera clicked.Scottie felt a special affinity for them.For all their tacky sweatshirts and baggy suits, they were still his fellow countrymen.
"That camel looks bad," said a young woman beside him.
"It's not so bad as it is tired," Scottie said. "You know when they're going to be bad."
She pushed back a strand of black hair in front of her eyes, and looked at him with a smile, "I can see that you are a camel expert. You are also an American."
"Can you see it?" Somehow, it reminded him of his encounter with Aranta Chesman a week ago.He focused on the young woman in front of him.She was older than Aranta, maybe thirty or so, and certainly not British.Egyptians, he guessed.
"I like Americans," she replied. "Is this your first time in our country?"
"Yes. So you are Egyptian?"
"Half. I teach at a university," she held out her hand. "My name is Layla Gade."
He took her hand and found it soft but strong. "Scotty Jean," he said, sure she had never heard the name, "what brought a local here on a hot afternoon?"
"My major is archeology. I like to come here every few months to relax."
He smiled and looked at her, "Speaking of relaxation, Sahara City is just across the road, and the bar is open. Can I buy you a drink?"
She looked at her watch, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "That's good."
It's cocktail hour, and the restaurant under the giant tent is packed, tourists and locals mingling casually."I wouldn't normally have a drink this early in the morning, let alone with a stranger," Leila Gade said.
He smiled, "We've introduced each other, haven't we?"
But there was something about the woman that made him nervous.He used to meet random girls in bars or street corners in various countries in the Middle East, and he knew what it was like.Something was wrong this time.He regretted telling her his real name.
After half an hour of gossip, she made an excuse, "I have to make a phone call, and I'll be right back. Don't go."
"I do not go."
He watched her across the empty dance floor and around the dining tables.He had a sense of foreboding that whoever she was going to call was going to be bad for him.He paid his bill and headed for another exit, only to see Ali Zamar standing there in a red cap, staring at him.Scottie looked away as he passed him.He drove back to the city, going over in his mind the instructions Richard had given him that night.It took him an hour to complete his task.
In order to get rid of would-be stalkers, he wandered around the city's back alleys and returned to his apartment after dark.He hurried upstairs and unlocked the door.Once inside, he realized there were other people in the house.A sob came from the corner of the room.Scotty froze, wishing he had a weapon in his hands.
"Who's there?" he asked softly.
There was another sob.His eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, and he saw Aranta Chesman cowering in the corner.He ran over and knelt beside her. "What's the matter? What are you doing here, Aranta? I thought you were gone."
She hugged him, her face was full of tears, and she was terrified. "They shot Richard," she said finally, sobbing. "I think he's dead."
"Where is he?"
"Downstairs—in the car. I'm afraid to stay with him. They're still chasing us."
"Who did it?"
"Ali Zamar's people."
"Stay here. I'll go down and have a look."
Scottie descended the back stairs and walked cautiously down the street.The car was parked where she usually parked, and he walked over immediately.Richard Chesman lay on the floor in the back seat, his shirt soaked in blood.He was lifeless, and Scottie withdrew helplessly, not knowing what to do.
Suddenly a man he had never seen before appeared beside him and pushed him aside.Scottie wanted to run away, but if the man was a cop, he knew it was too late. "Chesman!" The man bent down and approached the person curled up on the floor of the car, "Can you hear me?"
Scottie saw the lifeless eyes trembling open. "What...? Rand, is that you? Have I returned to London?"
"You're still in Cairo, Chesman, you're dying. Who did it?"
Chessman took a breath and tried to speak again, but his mouth was covered in blood and he couldn't speak in the end.He patted the breast pocket of his shirt one last time, then collapsed as if overwhelmed by a force.
"He's dead," Rand said, putting his hand into the pocket Richard indicated.He took out a folded paper, browsed it in the dim light, and put it in his pocket.
"Who are you?" Scottie asked. "Police?"
"I met Chellman in London. I think we'd better talk. You're in big trouble."
Leila reports to Rand that Scotty Jean has slipped away, and Rand immediately starts looking for him.Eventually, he found the apartment near Lambs Square.He didn't see Alanta coming in through the back door, only Scotty.As he was checking the parking lot behind the building, Scottie came out again, walking towards the car.Rand knew that luck brought him to the dying Chesman, but he didn't know whether it was good luck or bad luck.
Now in the upstairs apartment, Aranta faced him.Tears stained her swollen face. "It's you again! You shot Richard?"
"not me."
"What the hell is going on?" Scottie demanded. "Who is this guy?"
Seeing that Alanta did not answer, Rand answered for her: "Their father worked in a private intelligence gathering organization. After I retired from the British Intelligence Agency, they hired me as a code-breaking expert for a while."
"What are you doing here?"
"Vacation with my wife."
"By the way, help the British Intelligence Agency spy on information?" Alanta slowly recovered and asked.
Scottie Jean interrupted, "He came to my apartment, so he's after me."
"I'm not after anyone," Rand tried to convince them. "I just want to know what happened. Who killed your brother, Aranta?"
"Probably one of Ali Zamar's men. He was shot by a sniper in the airport parking lot just as we were getting into the car. We just met—" She stopped abruptly, realizing she had said too much .
"You've got to tell me," Rand urged, "Richard died downstairs. You might be next."
"I can't say any more."
"Richard and you are still working for the highest bidder, aren't you? Who is this time—Arab or Israeli? And, who is Ali Zamar?"
"He worked on the Pyramid sound and light show," Scottie replied.
"Enough, Scottie," she warned.
"You should know," Rand told her, "that the Egyptian police treat murder suspects extremely harshly—especially when the suspect is a spy."
"You think I killed my own brother?"
"They might ask why you're driving around while he's lying in the backseat bleeding, dying."
"I was so terrified, I had a complete breakdown! I was terrified of being at the airport and I was terrified of going to the hospital. I came here for Scotty."
"Where did you two go?" Rand asked.
"We flew to Amman," she finally said, "to meet a man named Rangoon." She turned to Joan, "I don't know if Richard is coming back. I thought he was going to spend the night there." .”
"But when you come back tonight, there is a sniper waiting at the airport."
"Yes. I think he wants to kill us both."
"Tell me about Rangoon."
She shrugged. "He paid us a fortune."
"why?"
She hesitated again, and glanced at Scotty Jean. "Kill Ali Zamal. That's Scotty's job. We only let him watch at first, and we told him the rest later."
"I see," Rand said wearily.There's always a young rookie like Scotty who can be hired to kill, "How's the finish, Aranta?"
"Look at Ali Zamal. I don't need Scottie. I want to do it myself."
Rand remembered the paper he had taken from Richard's pocket, opened it, and studied it again in better light.There were four lines written on the paper, enclosed in a maze-like frame:
LABYRINTH
LABYRINTHE
LABYRINTH
82
"Do you understand what this means?" Rand asked her. "Richard hinted at this to me before he died."
"It's just scribbling," she replied, "it doesn't make sense at all."
"What is the maze?"
"I have no idea."
"What does 82 mean?"
"Even if it meant anything, he never told me."
Rand turned the stiff piece of paper over.Those lines were written on Richard's boarding pass, and he still has nothing. "Okay. Call the police and tell them about your brother. I don't care what stories you make up, but don't get me involved. Also, stay away from Ali Zamar for a while—you two All of them."
Scotty Jean nodded, but Aranta just turned away.
Rand returned to their hotel room to find Leila sitting on the couch. "I'm such a failure, Geoffrey. Did you find him?"
He poured them drinks and told her what had happened. "He was in his apartment with Aranta. Richard was too, but he's dead."
"died!"
"He was shot at the airport. Aranta threw him in the back of the car, bleeding to death. I found him just before he died."
He showed her the paper, "The note or notes he found in his pocket. He pointed at this before he died. Know where there's a maze around here?"
"Of course," her answer surprised him, "Arsinoy's labyrinth is just south," she smiled as she studied the words on the paper, "in fact, it's about 82 kilometers south of here." .”
"Interesting. Are archaeologists digging there?"
"There's nothing left to dig. Only the foundations are left. The most interesting thing is that Arsinoy was called Crocodile City in ancient times. As a city name, isn't it great?"
"Not the kind of name favored by city supporters."
"It is probably the most famous labyrinth in ancient times. Herodotus said that there were twelve courtyards and three thousand rooms, half of which were built underground, as the pharaoh's tomb, and placed the crocodile for sacrifice. It was probably used as a tomb. built, but some historians believe it may have been used as a secret meeting place by political leaders."
"If we drive, can you find it at night?"
Hearing his question, she smiled, "Unless it moved after four thousand three hundred years. It's about an hour's drive from here."
"Richard wants to tell me something about that maze. But what? You say there's only foundations left."
She picked up the paper again. "Why did he write the word three times—and add an E at the end of the word? 82 is at the bottom. It must mean something."
"You told me that was the distance to the maze."
"Yes, but why is he written at the bottom, as if—" Her frown gradually turned into a smile, "Oh, Jeffrey, that's great! I should work with you in the Secret Communications Bureau!"
"You mean, you saw something I missed?"
"Of course! He wrote the word 'labyrinth' in three languages—English, French, and German. The spelling of the word is the same in all three languages."
Rand was still confused, "What about the numbers?"
"He wrote down the number—the distance to Arsinoy—because he didn't know the Arabic word for 'labyrinth.' Don't you understand? It's an Arabic number, just like ours! Four Okay, four languages—English, French, German, and Arabic. Does that make you think of anything?"
“Sound and Light Show of the Pyramids!”
"Exactly."
"Come on," Rand said, "in time for the end of tonight's show."
The order of the multilingual commentary changes nightly, and the French commentary had just finished when they arrived.The lights on the pyramid gradually dimmed, and the audience filed out.A short man in a red cap is changing the text on a bulletin board to indicate that a German-language commentary is about to begin.
"Let's go in," Rand said.
They sit among scattered tourists.He noticed two Japanese men sitting in the front row and wondered if they understood German.At this point, the man in the beanie steps up to the microphone and starts playing soothing oriental music.He began to speak rapidly in German.
"There's something wrong here," Layla whispered in his ear. "They usually just play the tapes for the language."
"Can you understand what he's talking about?" Rand asked, but even he understood the word "maze."
The two Japanese in the front row stood up suddenly, walked through the passage, and walked towards the exit at the back. "Jeffrey, what do you think is going on here?"
"For a purpose, the show was used as a rallying point. The commentary that begins the tape recording hints at where they should go next—this time, Arsinoy's Labyrinth. That's what Richard said. A note. He noticed that the word 'labyrinth' appeared in all three languages he knew."
They left the table and walked down the dark passage after the two Japanese.But when they came to the parking lot, all they saw was a car disappearing down the highway. "We can't catch them at night," Layla said. "They can go anywhere."
"Is that the way to the maze?"
"They can go that way, yes. The labyrinth is near the city of Fayoum."
Rand heard the voice of the German commentary change, but didn't realize that the tape was playing until he saw the small man in the red cap following Layla. "You're leaving my show in such a hurry," he said, "we're going to talk about it."
He held out a hand as if to shake Rand's hand, and it was too late for Rand to see the switchblade pop out of his sleeve.The knife stabbed at him like a viper, and the killing intent was fully revealed. At this moment, another figure suddenly rushed out from the darkness and knocked down the man with the hat.After a tussle, both fell to the ground, and then everything was still.When the light show started, Rand saw clearly who saved him under the light reflected from the pyramid.It's Scotty Jean.
"Nice to see you again, Scotty," he glanced at the ground. "You killed him?"
"No, just knocked him out." Joan turned around and recognized Layla immediately. "I should have known you were with him."
"She's my wife. Now tell me who this fellow is."
"Ali Zamar, the man they asked me to kill."
"I see."
"I guess I'm not good at killing—at least not with my bare hands. Let's get out of here."
Rand made a decision immediately.Whichever side Joan is working for, it's best to keep an eye on him. "Come with us," he urged, "we're going to Arsinoe's Labyrinth."
"Tonight? Why?"
"One of the purposes is to find out why Ali Zamal tried to kill me just now."
Since Layla knows the way, let her drive.Rand and Joan sat in the back seat so they could quickly crouch down and hide if another vehicle looked inside. "Where's Aranta?" Rand asked after they'd driven for ten minutes.
"She took her brother's body and drove out."
"I hope to go to the police."
"I have no idea."
"How did you get involved in this?"
The American leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder myself. I killed a man in America, with a bomb. It was an act of an anti-war demonstration, and I didn't mean to hurt anyone, but that doesn't matter anymore. I've been on the run since , goofing off on cleverness and doing some shady things to survive. Like everything else, Cairo seemed like a nice city, until I met Aranta. Oh, she's not bad, but her brother is a bit of a problem, a He told me to do dirty things right away. He asked me to spy on Ali Zamal to see what he was up to. Later, Aranta asked me to kill him for them."
"Did you agree?"
"Not at first, but Aranta talked me into it. They knew who I was—recognized me from a photo—and they knew I wasn't going to turn them in. I thought it was a threat."
"What happened to them going to meet that man named Yangon this time?"
"Yangon is a senior CIA secret intelligence officer in the Middle East. He was supposed to go back to Cairo with the Chesman brothers and sisters tonight, but he changed his plan."
"I see. So Aranta and Richard are working for the CIA?"
"For the highest bidder. Richard once told me they were sometimes employed by both parties at the same time."
They headed south in the dark, across the desert towards Fayoum and the ruins of Crocodile City.Rand imagined Aranta driving another car, carrying her dead brother, to some unmarked cemetery.Rand knew that unexpected death was a gamble, but he couldn't risk it.
"We're almost there," Leila said at this moment, "we've reached the outer edge of Fayoum."
Through the car window, all that came into Rand's sight was darkness, broken from time to time by the lights of houses passing by along the way.With more and more houses, Leila made a detour to the west in order to avoid the city center.It was around midnight when Leila finally stopped the car and announced, "The ruins will be over the next small sand dune. If you want to spy on others and don't want to be discovered, I suggest we walk there."
Rand and Joan took her advice, dropped the car, and followed her up the dunes.The moon was almost full, and standing on top of the dunes they could see a grove of date palms adorned with silvery moonlight. "The ruins are over there in the woods. You are standing on the ancient crocodile city now."
"Where's the crocodile?" Rand asked. "Are we near the Nile?"
"The Nile is to the east, nearly forty kilometers from here, but there are several tributaries and a canal flowing through it, connecting it to Lake Miris in the north. Yes, that lake once held crocodiles that were revered as fetishes. Occasionally now, the Aswan Dam does a good job of stopping the seasonal flooding of the Nile."
"Crocodile City," Scotty Jean whispered the name, "City of Crocodiles."
Suddenly, Leila put her hand on Rand's shoulder, "Look there, under the moonlight."
He followed her gaze and saw two figures moving among the trees.One of them held what appeared to be a rifle. "You two stay here," he said, "I'll go down."
Before Layla could protest, he slid down the dune and into the date palm grove.He gradually approached, and the moonlight illuminated a low, half-buried artificial structure.With the light of the moon and the matches, he managed to see the line in English: Opening soon—partial reconstruction of the Arsinoy Labyrinth.Funded by the Egyptian National Tourism Administration.
The flame from the match burned Rand's fingers, and he threw the match away.Immediately behind him came a voice: "We meet again, Mr. Rand. But this time, I'm holding a gun instead of a knife."
Rand turned slowly, facing Ali Zamar head-on.In one hand he held a light machine gun steady.Don't fight the gun. "I thought I left you in Cairo."
"We'll be there in no time by helicopter. Now put your hands up and walk in ahead of me. You'll find a friend of yours has arrived."
Rand opened the door and stepped into the reconstructed labyrinth.It was a long, dimly lit corridor with passages and rooms on either side.He glanced inside as they passed, seeing more doors and passages leading in all directions.They walked past an alcove where a lifelike statue of a crocodile, mouth wide open, waited to greet visitors.
"Turn left," Ali Zamar instructed when they came around the corner, "and then turn right."
"You know the way here very well."
"I was involved in the reconstruction design. Here it is, go in."
Rand went in and saw two other Arabs standing on either side of a chair.Aranta Chesman sat in a chair with her hands and feet bound.She looked up to see him. "Rand."
"Aranta! How do you—?"
Ali Zamar snorted. "She wanted to kill me because she thought I killed her brother. I took a helicopter and brought her with me."
"What the hell is going on here?" Rand asked. "What are you going to do?"
Aranta gave the answer, "A conference - a meeting of terrorist leaders from all over the world. Germany, Japan, Ireland, Palestine. All bombardiers, hijackers and assassins. He wants to unite them and establish a worldwide network of terrorist organizations."
Ali Zamar stared at her. "Shut up," he said softly.
"That's what Rangoon came for - trying to stop the meeting. But at the last minute there was a change. He got word that there were assassins in ambush. That's true - it's just that my brother was a scapegoat."
Ali Zamar slapped her across the face. "You've said enough. As for your brother, you'll be seeing him soon."
Rand took a step forward, and one of the Arab bodyguards raised his weapon.Just then, they heard the first explosion.
Ali Zamar turned around and shouted two words in Arabic.The bodyguard started to move and ran away.The sound of machine gun fire echoed through the corridors of the maze, followed by another explosion.
Suddenly, Scotty Jean appeared, with a bag of grenades slung over his shoulder and a submachine gun in his hand. "Let's get out of here!" he yelled at Rand.Ali Zamar raised his weapon, but not as fast as the American.A submachine gun bullet pierced his stomach, and he collapsed beside the chair where Aranta was bound.
Rand squatted down, cut the rope that bound her, and followed Scotty to find a way out of the maze. "How do we find a way out?" Aranta asked breathlessly.
"I sprinkled sand along the way. Let's follow now," Scottie told her.
"Where did you find the gun and the grenade?" Rand asked.
"My wife and I found a helicopter behind the dunes. These things are in there, I guess you might need help."
"You guessed right."
Aranta twisted her foot and fell to the ground.兰德停下脚步，扶她起来，正在这时，一个日本人绕过了他们身后转角。斯科蒂连发几枪。 “你们两个先走，”他说，“我断后。”
"you can not--"
“这迷宫里可能有他们二十多个人。最好让他们一个都逃不出去。快走！蕾拉在外面等着。”
兰德的手臂环过阿兰塔，扶着她走了出去。他最后看了一眼斯科蒂·琼，这个美国人又向迷宫内掷出一颗手榴弹。他们刚一踏入被月光笼罩的夜色中，一连串的爆炸好像将这个地方撕成了两半，他们被一股大力抛在了沙地上。
几秒钟后，蕾拉就发现了他们。“杰弗里！你还好吗？”
“我想我很好。阿兰塔扭伤了脚踝，但她没事。”
阿兰塔·切斯曼摇摇晃晃地站起身，望着他们身后的浓烟与火焰。“斯科蒂。”
“我很抱歉，”兰德说，“他没逃出来。我们赶快离开吧，以免还有爆炸。”
他们刚走不远，她就跪倒在沙地上，像之前为她哥哥所做的那样，哭悼着斯科蒂。
“他让我把这个给你，”蕾拉对兰德说，“是他进去找你们之前写的。我想他根本就没打算出来。”
“不，”兰德说，“他不会的。”
“你不看看吗？”
“我想我知道他写的是什么，蕾拉。理查德·切斯曼知道迷宫的事——还记得他在登机通行证上写的字吗？——所以，他根本没有理由让斯科蒂监视扎马尔，然后再杀掉他。这只不过是为了欺瞒他妹妹而编的故事。他知道迷宫的事，也知道声光表演所传达的信息，都是扎马尔告诉他的。那斯科蒂呢？他可能不知道理查德和阿兰塔什么时候从安曼回来——但是今晚在车后座上，他告诉我那个叫仰光的CIA探员原定今晚和他们一起回开罗。你还不明白吗？仰光很幸运，成了替死鬼的理查德大概还以为是扎马尔杀了他。”
“你是什么意思，杰弗里？”
他展开斯科蒂的绝笔留言，在迷宫熊熊燃烧的火光下，一起读着。
兰德——你是个好人，所以我把这个留给你。理查德雇我今晚在机场暗杀仰光，那个CIA探员。阿里·扎马尔出的钱，但是理查德不想让阿兰塔知道。他想让我动手，以免哪个喝得烂醉的阿拉伯枪手用流弹伤到她。只是他找错了人。我不知道我应不应该暗杀仰光。我端着枪，在那里等得越久，越觉得理查德才是一个真正的恶徒。当他们走向汽车，而仰光并没有一起出现时，我让理查德做了替死鬼。
Notes:
Notes: