Chapter 11 catastrophe day in egypt

The Old City of Cairo - the Arabs call it the great heritage of the capital for thousands of years.It was here that Rand first met the Egyptian fortune teller Ibn Shablah.Rand wandered the crowded streets for an hour before finding a narrow alleyway, an elaborate maze of old-fashioned wooden and brick houses.A hundred years ago, both the rich and the poor lived in the ancient city, but now only the poor live in this garbage-filled, leaking place. Rand was told to find a weathered wooden marker with a half-moon pattern on it.He found the end of the alley as promised.A bearded man, wrapped in rags, was fast asleep with his pillow on the last step.Rand walked forward to the doorstep, knocked on the door, and a tall man in black answered.

"I'm looking for Ibn Chabra," Rand said. "Max Ritner called me. He's the barman at the Nile Hilton." As the tall man stood aside to let him in, he caught a faint scent of jasmine. "I am Shabora, are you here for divination?" "You can say that, but not for me. Marx said you could tell me about the day of the catastrophe for the Egyptians." "Day of Doom, yes, come in," he said, lighting a feeble lamp on the little table.Towards evening, the room began to darken, only a little sunlight came in through the beautiful wire mesh windows, "Please sit down, Mr. Rand."

"You know my name." "Max called me and told me you were coming. I was waiting for you before. But the alley is like a maze to outsiders. Do you want tea or a glass of wine?" "Just drink tea. I'm really thirsty after looking for you for a long time." Shabora walked behind the bead curtain and came out with a cup of strong tea after a while, apparently prepared in advance. "What do you want to know about Doomsday?" he asked, sitting at the table across from Rand.Perhaps for some guests, he served not only tea but also crystal balls. "When is the catastrophe day? What impact will it have on the people?"

He clasped his hands together as if praying.Rand could tell that the apartment, or the entire house, had once belonged to a wealthy businessman or lawyer.Does this luxurious house belong to this man?Or did he buy it when the ancient capital was in decline? "I am a fortune-teller," began Ibn Chabra in a soft and clear voice, like a teacher saying the familiar opening words, "that was a long time ago, and our ancestors called it the day of misfortune , No business can be carried out during those days. Later, people called it the catastrophe day, and the fortune-teller calculated that there are two catastrophe days in each month."

"Marx has told me this," Rand went on, "and I know that three days are very unlucky. Even the most unbelieving person would consider these three days very unlucky." The man nodded, "They are the last Monday of April, the second Monday of August, and the third Monday of December. The most unfortunate day, the day of disaster." "Next Monday is the last Monday in April." "I know." He smiled. "What can I do to avoid misfortune?" "It's unavoidable," he shrugged. "People who really believe stay at home and don't do any work."

Rand leaned forward and asked, "Mr. Ibn Chabra, do you believe it? Will you do divination next Monday?" He looked up at Rand and said, "I do what I have to do, Mr. Rand, for my people." Late in the evening, Rand returned to the Nile Hilton Hotel where he and his wife stayed.They met here twenty years ago, and now they revisit their old places.Layla was in graduate school at the time, Rand was working for British intelligence, and the Russians were all over Egypt.They first met in a hotel room.She was twenty-five at the time, studying archeology at Cairo University. Now, when he returned to the room and saw her resting on the bed, he felt that he had returned to that time again. "Go shopping?" he asked.

She opened her eyes, nodded and said, "It's really hot at the end of April. And in my impression, there are not so many people in the city," she sat up after speaking, "I just took a nap, shall we go out to eat?" "How about eating downstairs? Their restaurant is very good. It's a bit late now, and other restaurants will be very crowded on Friday." Layla giggled sarcastically. "And, you hate Egyptian food. You can eat the same in a hotel as you do in London." "I think so," he admitted with a smile.She was the same little dark-haired woman she had been when they first met, with features resembling those of her Middle Eastern father rather than her Scottish mother.

"How about that fortune teller?" She asked after a while, as if she just remembered where he was, "Did you find him?" Rand nodded, "It took me a long time to search in the alleys of the ancient city, and I almost gave up. His name is Ibn Shaborah, and he lives in a suite separated from a wonderful old house." And there's a beggar sleeping on his doorstep." "Is it the day of disaster?" "It's next Monday." "So Reno...?" "I have no idea." "Are you calling London?" "I don't work for them now," he reminded her, despite the fact that he took on a few cases in the early days of his retirement.This time it was Cairo, not London.When he was in Sahara City, a belly dancer named Amyra recognized him, and it was Amyla who told him about Li Nuo and Doomsday.

"Are we just here for you to flirt with that belly dancer?" Layla asked on her way back to the hotel that night. "She's about your age." Rand wanted to comfort her. "what does that mean?" Sitting in the back of the taxi, he leaned in and kissed her. "She just met me in Athens many years ago. Now I happen to remember." "Jeffrey, you are truly unforgettable." "She doesn't know that I'm retired, and she wants to tell me about that man named Li Nuo," he said in a lower voice, remembering the taxi driver.Later, in their hotel room, he continued, "According to Emira, this guy named Reno has shipped a shipment of explosives to Egypt to sell to terrorists, and she thinks I can stop him."

"Don't wade into this muddy water, we're here for vacation." It was advice, and he probably realized it too.But he was horrified the next morning by a horrific explosion when a tourist bus exploded, killing three people. The belly dancer mentions the bartender at the Nile Hotel, Max Ritner.It was easy for Rand to find him.He's a rigid German who wears his own modified bartender uniform for the afternoon shift—a red coat open to reveal his hairy chest, and skinny jeans.Rand felt that although he wanted to look younger, he was approaching forty. "Amyra of Sahara City said you could help me," Rand said as Ritner poured him a beer.

"That dancing girl?" There was interest in his eyes immediately, "I haven't seen her for a long time, how is she?" "Very well. I'm looking for a guy named Reno, and she says it's going to be hard to find him this weekend, no matter what he does, because of Doom Day." The German snorted: "Superstition! That's all. You have to find a fortune teller to tell you what the day of disaster is. I have been here for ten years, and nothing has happened." "What about Li Nuo?" Max Ritner looked him up and down and said immediately, "Never heard of this guy." After finishing his drink, Rand asked how he could find a fortuneteller.The bartender gave him the name and address of Ibn Chabra.Layla had been out shopping by then, and Rand had left her a note telling her where he had been, in case something happened to him.This is the habit he has been doing for many years in this line of work. Now, as she was going downstairs for dinner with him, Leila said, "You really think this Li Nuo is a dangerous man?" "You saw the bombings this morning. If he's selling explosives, he's dangerous." "Why didn't she call the police, but tell you?" "Egyptian police are corrupt. They torture, well known. People are afraid to avoid them. And British troops were here until 1951. Some Egyptians still see us as protectors. Remember the war, we fought Defeated Rommel and defended against their invasion." Layla didn't mention it again during the dinner, and when Rand suggested another trip to the Sahara afterward, she seemed neither surprised nor approving. "Isn't it enough to go there for one night? It's just to trick the tourists." "Maybe Cairo will develop in this direction, and there will be less customers to rip off if there is a terrorist bombing." "Go yourself," she said. "That would be suspicious. We're just a couple of middle-aged tourists going together." "Why don't you just call up and go to London?" "Maybe there's nothing to report at all. I'll have to talk to Emira again." "Okay." She finally agreed reluctantly. The city of Sahara is one of the famous nightless cities in Egypt, famous for its local belly dancers.This bar street located on the south side of the Giza Pyramid really gathers many outdoor nightclubs. The name of the bar street is spelled out with colorful lights, both in Arabic and English.This place held a strange fascination for Rand, who always made it a point of his visits to Cairo.Maybe it's because there are tourists from all over the world, or maybe it's the cigarette smoke floating in the night sky here, or maybe it's the ecstatic dance of belly dancers. This evening, it was packed with locals and tourists who were out on a Friday night.Layla looked at them and muttered, "It's more enjoyable to spend the night in a hotel." "I promise I'll be gone in a minute. I just want to talk to Amyra again." After they took their seats at a row of tables at the back of the dance floor, Rand walked away behind the backstage curtain.Twelve women of different ages, all gorgeously dressed and heavily made up, were waiting for their turn.Rand hadn't learned until the last time he was here that they danced solo or in random groups, competing for tips from the men at the tables by the side of the stage. "Amelia!" he called, spotting her in the background.She stepped forward in a bright green dance dress with matching tassels. "What are you doing here?" "I have to talk to you about Reno again." "Not tonight, do you want me to die?" "what?" "Let's go, the show has begun!" "I met Max Ritner. He sent me to a fortuneteller..." When she heard this, she didn't chase him away again, "What fortune teller?" "A man named Ibn Shablah." She closed her eyes and sighed, "I shouldn't have told you, get out, someone is here!" Another dancer passed by and said to her, "Send him to bring us some canafari, darling." Amyra ignored her and left quickly.She hides among the other girls and there is nothing he can do.The first girl starts to perform and he only leaves. "Did you find her?" Layla asked when he returned to his seat. "Yes, she's too frightened to say anything. I'll see her later." The first dancer swayed to the music, swaying gently, like a snake coming out of a basket.The rhythm of the music crescendoed, and she began to shake her waist tassels and walk around the side of the stage.Like the other dancers, she wears a fringed bodice and a low-slung tulle skirt that looks like it's about to slide off her waist when she writhes violently.Satisfied male spectators stuff folded Egyptian pounds or other banknotes into her skirts as she dances through. Rand and Leila watched the performance of two more dancers before Amyra finally took the stage.The green outfit is dazzling, with boobs and butts gleaming every time it rocks.Cheers erupted from the crowd. Men on each side of the stage reached out to stuff bills into her belt.She seemed to shake more violently with each one, flashing her dazzling smile every now and then.After dancing around the edge of the stage, she returned to the back of the stage.Her hands were on her waist now, and Rand thought later that she must have felt something, but hadn't seen it yet. Blinding lights and explosions seemed to erupt from her guts, and suddenly everyone felt inexplicable fear, screaming and staggering away.This sound overwhelmed Amyra's horrific screams before she died.For her, the day of catastrophe came early. Layla stared out the window at the Nile in the hotel room, like a giant python in the night. "God, I don't think I'll ever forget that as long as I live." She was speaking more to herself than to Rand. "I can't forget either." "What was that? What killed her?" Rand tried not to remember, but now he forced himself to remember something. "Probably a thin sheet of bomb, made the size of a credit card, with a wirelessly controlled detonator stuck in it. A person next to the stage wrapped the bomb in a pound note and stuffed it in her belt. When she was some distance away from him , he pressed the tiny launcher in his pocket, and the bomb exploded. Although it wasn't powerful, it was enough..." He didn't finish the rest of his sentence when he saw her frightened face. "Who would do something like that?" "The murderer must have taken advantage of the chaos and fled. It could have been the man named Li Nuo, but it could have been someone he hired. When I spoke to her earlier, she looked frightened of someone, but I don't know if she saw Li Nuo No himself." "Now are you going to report to London, or to the embassy?" "Tell them what?" "You can't ignore the tragedy that happened to that poor woman." "Believe me, no," he began pacing the room, "maybe I killed her because I was there, or because I went to the fortune-teller Ibn Shaborah. Someone knows her Telling others about this is to keep the mouth shut, and also to kill chickens and scare monkeys." "But you don't know anything about Li Nuo. What can you do?" "I know some key information. He was carrying a boatload of bombs, and he was superstitious about the day of disaster. If he killed Amyra, then he was very cruel." "You think he's going to wait until Monday to finish his project?" "He's more inclined to do it before Monday. Amyra's death gives him a sense of urgency." The next morning, Rand was woken up by the phone next to his bed.He glanced at his watch before answering the phone and noticed it was two past eight. "Hello?" "Mr. Rand?" said a woman's voice softly. "Yes, may I ask who you are?" "I'm Amyra's friend, I saw what happened yesterday and I have to talk to you." He hesitated for a moment and said, "When?" "This morning, in an hour, okay?" "Where?" "In front of the Egyptian Museum. It's in Liberation Square in downtown Cairo, very close to your hotel." "I see," he replied.Beside him, Layla was already awake. "I'll be there in an hour. How can I find you?" "I'll find you." She said and hung up the phone. "Who is it?" Layla said confusedly. "One of Amy's friends, she said she wanted to see me in an hour." "Jeffrey..." "I will be careful." The museum is a grand and solemn century-old building.Both the museum and the city's main bus terminal are on this square.At the bus station, hundreds of people lined up on the cement street, waiting for crowded but cheap transport.There was less rush than usual on a Saturday morning, but Rand still found the elevated walkway that circled the plaza to be the shortest route from the plaza to the museum.On the sidewalk, he tried to find the woman who had called him, but it was impossible to find it amidst the multitude of faces and colors, a mix of inhabitants of the Mediterranean coast, people of the Levant and islands, and darker-skinned sultans migrant. As he walked down the sidewalk, the steps of the museum lay in front of him, and he quickly realized that there was no woman calling him here.She appeared beside him almost at that moment, very young, lithe and lithe, with the fair complexion of a Turk-Circassian, her ancestors who had once been the ruling class of Egypt. "I'm calling you, Mr. Rand," she said simply, standing beside him. "Do you want to go in there?" he asked. "Let's walk along the river," she suggested. "The museum isn't fully open yet." While they were walking, he suddenly recognized her. "You danced with Amyla. You were on stage before her last night." She nodded slightly, "My name is Pasha. Amyra is my good friend, just like my sister. I saw you backstage last night, and she told me your name." "How do you know where I live?" "I first looked for the Schfeld Hotel and you were not there, so I looked for the Nile Hilton Hotel." "Pretty well speculated, I deeply regret what happened last night, it was absolutely tragic." As they approached the Nile, he could see the Tower of Cairo on Gezira Island across the way.The hollowed-out columned lattice wall well disguises its actual use as a TV signal tower and revolving restaurant. "It was Li Nuo who killed her," Pasha said quietly. "He knew she was talking about him." "Who is Reno? Where can I find him?" "She didn't tell me. She told me a lot about it, but nothing about him. The bombing by the terrorists terrified her. Don't know how she learned that he was going to supply the bombs to the terrorists in a factory in Egypt, Probably called Czechoslovakia or something. Then one night she recognized you and asked for help." "I'm retired, I told her." "You're still connected to these guys. I've never heard of anyone in the intelligence community actually quitting." Rand sighed.She is still young and full of fantasies about this job. "I talked to a couple of people. She told me Max Ritner, the bartender at the hotel." "Marx is an old friend of hers." "He told me to go to a fortuneteller named Ibn Shablah, and he would tell me what the Day of Doom is." Pasha frowned. "That's weird. I'm sure Max knew what a Doomsday was." "Monday is one of those days, right?" "Yes," she said. "Tell me. How did Amyla know about this Li Nuo?" "I don't know. They're friends, I suppose, but she just can't stand the recent bombings. She talked to you and said maybe you can do something about it." Rand said with a wry smile: "I'm just a decryptor at best, working in a place called the Secret Communications Agency. I've only done a few intelligence jobs." "Maybe she doesn't know what else to do," Pasha said, "Can you seek justice for Amyra?" "I'll do my best," he promises, wondering how justice is done in the Middle East.Sometimes fairness is just a formality for a political stand, "Tell me something. Has Reno, or anyone who might have been Reno, ever been to Sahara and seen her?" "Then I don't know. Of course there are always male guests who want to buy us drinks between performances. Usually we don't accept it, unless it is an acquaintance. Of course Amelia has worked here for a long time, and she knows people who are better than I have many." Rand thought for a moment. "I will do my best," he reassured. "Whoever killed her must be punished. If help is needed, I will contact you again." He went back to the hotel after breaking up by the river.Layla had already left the room and was going to go shopping before the noon meeting.Rand ate breakfast alone in the restaurant of the hotel, and read a local English newspaper. The front page reported about the atrocities in Sahara City.He was a little taken aback when a large man in an open shirt offered to sit with him.When he saw the hairy bosom, he recognized the hotel bartender, Max Ritner. "Please sit down," Rand gestured with his hand, "Have you read the newspaper?" "Yes, about Amyra." "I was there," Rand told him. "I saw the explosion happen." "It's terrible, it's terrible!" he whispered forward. "I don't know her very well. I haven't seen her in months. We are from different circles." His suspicion, or get rid of the relationship with her. "She asked me to ask you about Li Nuo." He shrugged and said, "That's the only guy I've ever heard of. A vile camel trader." "I think it's more than that." The bartender ordered breakfast with the waiter who passed by, and then used the same sentence to describe Amyra, "We are people from different circles." While Max Ritner was eating, Rand had finished his eggs and was drinking coffee.But their conversation turned to the uncharacteristically warm April weather and the tourists who flock here. "The impact of the explosion is not great." Rand observed him, trying to shift the topic to what he wanted to talk about. "Not yet," Ritner said, "but if the attack develops further, it will end up being a disaster for the tourism industry." "Some say Reno sold bombs to terrorists." The German exclaimed, "Who said that?" "I'm just hearsay. The fortuneteller named Ibn Shabra said he didn't work on Monday because of the catastrophe. If their plan counts as work, all this will be completed by Monday." "Don't believe what the fortune teller tells you." "You sent me to him," Rand reminded him. They paid and left the lobby together.Max Ritner had the day off, but at one o'clock he was working on the wedding scene in the upstairs ballroom.They stopped and looked up at the hanging staircase extending from the hall to the ballroom on the second floor, which was very eye-catching. "It's a very popular place for couples because of the hanging ladder," Ritner told Rand. "You can see the wedding people coming in. We often have two or three wedding or engagement receptions a day." , more than 400 games a year." "It's a lot of extra work for a bartender." "Indeed! Of course, some people don't drink, they are very strict, Muslims are. But others will want to have a drink at the wedding. Come here at one o'clock, you will see a very real Egyptian life. The groom and The bride will enter accompanied by bagpipe players." "Really?" "It's a British colonial tradition. People love to play it on special occasions. There's also belly dancing in the entertainment. I met Amyla at weddings, and sometimes she goes to weddings to earn extra money." "I really want to see it." "Then come! If someone asks you, tell them that you belong to the newspaper, and no one will care about you." Rand followed him up the unique hanging staircase to the upstairs ballroom, and then into a large house where preparations for the wedding had already begun.A gigantic five-tiered wedding cake was carefully arranged on a low table with the top of the cake at least seven feet off the ground. "How can they get it?" Rand was puzzled. The chef in charge of the cake was an Egyptian with glasses and a mustache, and he was busy arranging the position of the cake. "He's Xuer Wamba," the bartender introduced him by the way. "Mr. Rand is here to interview wedding customs." Wamba turned to look at Rand, always happy to share this with others. "You must be puzzled how they can reach this cake. Of course they have to climb a small ladder!" He hurried around to check the other side of the cake, "a big dessert like this is a symbol of wealth. The groom's family ordered this Cakes, they want their guests to know they strive for perfection. There will be more than two hundred people here this afternoon, and there's a wedding tomorrow." "Two hundred?" Rand looked at the cake. "It's enough for a thousand people!" The waiter giggled. "The middle and other layers of the cake are fake, made of cardboard and some plastic decorations. Everyone makes bigger cakes like that." Rand just shook his head. "It's all unreal right now." When it was almost one o'clock, bagpipes and drums sounded from the hanging ladder.The happy couple walked into the lobby and walked up the steps to the ballroom step by step.At the ballroom, the bagpipers were replaced by a twelve-piece orchestra on the bandstand, while Rand mingled with the other guests.The podium for the newlyweds to preside over the wedding ceremony is on one side of the room, decorated with hundreds of balloons. Rand spots a flashy dancer ready to take the stage after the singer.Her name is Mustafa, and she admits to working in Sahara City sometimes. "Amelia," she repeated, "I've seen her and watched the news. But she never goes out with other girls." "Does she know a fortuneteller named Ibn Shablah?" "I don't believe in fortune-telling, but some girls go to fortune-telling, but I don't." "Thank you for telling me that," he thanked, though he hadn't heard anything from her. When he turned she said, "Amelia doesn't go out with other girls because she has a lover." "who is it?" "I don't know. Sometimes she goes on dates after get off work." Rand met Leila at the appointed time, and he looked at her purchases.A replica of the limestone bust of Nefertiti, considered by the world to be a symbol of ancient Egypt. "I have a place for it at home," Layla said. "Where have you been today? Did you see the woman who called?" He told her he had, and also about the hotel wedding, "I've talked to them but nothing." "I still think you have to get in touch with London." "With whom? Parkinson? I don't owe him anything." Leila wanted to go to a show in a Parisian nightclub, and they arrived there in the evening.He has been trying not to think about Amyra and that person named Li Nuo.But later that day, he decided to go to the fortune teller again on Sunday morning.Layla thought of going to mass in an Egyptian Christian church, and he planned to go at that time. Sunday was another scorching day with temperatures reaching eighty-five degrees, more like summer than the last week of April.Some shops are closed, some are still open.Why, he wondered as he walked through the crooked lanes of the old city, did these people live here when there were so many beautiful places to live in Cairo.The residents here, like the houses here, can be seen to have once been rich. As Rand approached Ibn Shabra's house, he saw that the upstairs latticed windows were open, suggesting that the fortuneteller might be at home.A ragged beggar sat opposite his door, probably the same man who had slept on the steps when Rand first came. The tall man in black answered the door just like before, and then stood aside to let him in. "I knew you'd be back, Mr. Rand. Our first conversation wasn't entirely satisfactory." Rand still sat where he was last time, and also took a cup of tea. "Tomorrow is one of those catastrophic days," he said. "I think I'll have to visit you before then. I'm looking for a man named Reno, and maybe he'll have something important to do before tomorrow." "Li Nuo, what a strange name." "A businessman doing illegal transactions." "How do you know him?" "I was told by a dancing girl in the Sahara. She was killed on Friday night. You should have seen it in the paper." Ibn Shabra looked away and said, "A woman named Emira." "yes." "What's your relationship to her? Max Ritner sent you to me." "She introduced me to Max. I'm looking for Leno more than ever." The fortune teller closed his eyes as if meditating, and he put his hands together, the same as last time.Finally, the phone next door rang, and he raised his head slightly. "Excuse me." He said and went to the next door to answer the phone. Rand sat alone, saw the bookshelf beside him, and walked over to check the types of books.There are many English books and some foreign language books, mainly about divination and witchcraft.He casually flipped through a book or two and walked around beside the bookcase.He could hear the fortune teller whispering next door, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. The bottom shelf holds a dozen or so British detective novels from the 1930s.Many were dilapidated and had their jackets ripped off - if there were any.Some titles, Rand knew, but not all.There's Agatha Christie's A.B.C. Murder, Nicholas Blake's The Beast Must Die, Dorothy Leigh Sayers', Philip MacDonald's Lenoy Murder . Seeing the title of the book, Rand held his breath and flipped through the contents.Reno is a company name.Rand had never read the book and had no idea of ​​its plot.But that doesn't matter, what matters is the title of the book. He heard movement behind him and saw that Ibn Chabra had a musket in his hand. "Yes, Mr. Rand," he said quietly, "you have found him. I am Reno." Rand tried to keep his breath steady, weighing his chances of rushing to grab the gun.The timing is wrong. "Why did you kill Amyra?" he asked, "or hire a murderer to kill her?" The tall fortune teller argued: "No matter what you think, I have nothing to do with Amyra's death. I loved her." "what?" "Amyra has been my girlfriend for the past two years." Rand shook his head, unable to make up his mind, "Are you the one she dated after work?" "Yes, she is often here with me. Don't be so suspicious, Mr. Rand. Amyra is only ten years younger than me. Even a fortune-teller has the right to fall in love." "It's nothing to do with that. It's... she betrayed you. She told me Reno sold bombs to Egyptian terrorists." "Amelia strongly objected to some of my deals. She said she would have stopped them if it wasn't for the disadvantages of me." "You put the gun down," Rand said. "Let's talk. If you didn't kill her, your accomplice must have killed her!" "No, no, Mr. Rand. Guns are a must. Bombs and weapons are only a small part of my business. I can't give them all up, and you'd be reckless enough to read my book." "Tell me who killed her." "If I knew, I wouldn't let you die. But I really don't know. There must be radical Muslim groups who want to overthrow the pyramids and the Sphinx as idolatrous idols. They also oppose belly dancing. Her death may Just a warning to others. It has nothing to do with my business." "You don't believe that at all, as much as I do. The operation will start today, right? Before tomorrow's doomsday?" Ibn Chabra nodded slightly, "But you can't find it and you can't stop it, Mr. Rand. A plastic bomb with a volume of one cubic meter is too expensive for this place, and it will not be traded publicly. If Amyra Losing her life because of it, I mourn for her, but not for you." Rand couldn't wait any longer.He threw the book suddenly, and at the same time the fortune teller pulled the trigger.The book fell among them, and he felt the bullet hit his arm.He then threw Ibn Chabra on the ground, wrenched him to the floor, and snatched the gun away before he could fire a second shot.Rand hadn't experienced this kind of protracted close combat for many years, and he soon felt exhausted. He gasped and felt Ibn Chabra roll over on top of him.He got up to take aim, and Rand took the opportunity to push hard, pushing him against the latticed window.Rand heard the sound of glass shattering, but the fortune-teller steadied himself, gun still in hand. He fired again, and Rand kicked him in the air, the bullet just inches from Rand's head.They wrestled again, and the pistol flew out, landing a few yards away.Ibn Chabra broke away from Rand, kicked him in the head, and threw himself at the gun again.Rand was kicked unconscious and couldn't see Ibn Chabra's position clearly. He just vaguely saw a figure pick up the gun, clenched his hands, and aimed at him. He suddenly realized that Li Nuo was going to kill him, and in this dark and dirty Cairo house, maybe no one would find him dead.The gunshots rang out, harsher than ever, and he thought of Layla. But Ibn Shablah fell down on his lap and died.He looked up and saw the ragged beggar on the street holding a riot gun. The man who fired the shots introduced himself as Hani Fami, an officer with the anti-terrorism unit of the Cairo police.When he checked the gunshot wound on Rand's arm, other police officers had already gone downstairs. "I called for backup when I heard the first shots," the officer explained to Rand. "We wanted to capture him alive for questioning, but I came in and he was going to shoot you. I had no choice." "I'm very grateful," Rand said. "What happened? We've been monitoring the house for weeks and you were here last Friday." "I came to find a man named Reno. I was told he sold bombs to terrorists." "Ibn Chabra is Reno," the police officer told him. "We already know about it. But we can't do anything to him and his accomplices. He brought bombs from Eastern Europe to Egypt, and I don't know how." It's in the hands of terrorists." While Fami was explaining the situation, some other police officers entered the house.Rand was hastily loaded into a car and taken to the hospital, though he insisted he was fine.When he arrived at the hospital, the doctor didn't think so. After examining the bruises on his head from Chabra's kick, the doctor seriously said that there was a possibility of a concussion. It wasn't long before Leila arrived at the hospital. "You didn't pay attention to safety," she said as soon as they met, and he could even feel the pain in her voice.He wasn't as bad as she feared. "No, I'm careful." He tried to shrug but it gave him a headache. "what happened?" "The Cairo police came and rescued me." "A man from the British embassy wants to see you." "I don't have that time. The bomb will be transferred today. Shabora also admitted before he died that I must go." "Then let's hear what the doctor has to say." Rand lay back on the bed feeling discouraged.He thought that the civil servants of the British embassy would come to ask him a bunch of questions, and then ask him to contact the UK tomorrow morning.Before that, Officer Fami arrives in the afternoon to give them good news. “兰德先生，医生说你可以出院了。只是以后几天要注意休息，”他跟蕾拉点点头说，“我送你们回酒店去。”他已经把乞丐的破衣服换掉，穿上了衬衫和裤子，可能是警察制服。 他们坐上一辆没有标记的车，回到酒店，法弥坚持要停车下来陪他们走进酒店。“我们很感激你的帮助，兰德先生，”他微笑着说，“但我想现在我们能处理好。” “除非你今天能找到要转移的那一立方炸药。” “有那么多么？”他问，同时快速地心算，“今天的交易额会相当大呢。” “一立方能有好几百磅重呢。”蕾拉说。 警官点头说：“但也可能分成好几袋。” 他们穿过酒店大堂的时候，兰德发现了一张熟悉的面孔。那是跳舞的帕夏，他周六在博物馆见过她。她拿着一个帆布袋急急忙忙走向电梯。“你到这干什么？”他问。 她看着蕾拉和警官，有些犹豫地说：“艾米拉今天本来要在下午的婚礼上表演，我是来替她的。” 兰德的头嗡嗡作响。他记得什么人说过今天还有一场婚礼。当时他没觉得有什么，现在也没想出什么头绪。尼罗河希尔顿酒店几乎每天都有婚礼，通常同时有两到三场。是酒保告诉他的，可是为什么这个婚礼那么重要？ “我和你一起去。”他突然决定，和她一起走进电梯。蕾拉和法弥交换了眼神，也跟了上去。“这是谁的婚礼？”他问帕夏。 “一个开罗银行家儿子的婚礼，他和一个法国女人结婚。” 婚礼已经开始了，兰德惊奇地发现那时已经下午四点了。马克思·瑞特纳和另外一个酒保在工作，忙着用最快的速度给宾客们倒酒。那个糕点师傅万巴骄傲地站在新完成的五层蛋糕旁边。一个年轻的女人在舞台上唱埃及传统歌曲，从庆典中抽出时间听她唱歌的来宾都报以热烈的掌声。 “我来晚了，”帕夏说，“我得去换演出服了。”说完她就跑到舞台后边去了。 “她很可爱。”蕾拉看着婚礼台上黑发的法国女人说。 “不会在这儿的，”警官认为，“总共有超过两百人在这儿。” 兰德没有回答。他想着艾米拉就是在几百个人面前被杀害的。 歌手响亮地结束了演唱，轮到帕夏了。她像僧人一样从珠帘后边出来，随着当地音乐摇摆晃动着身子，参加婚礼的宾客立刻发出了欢呼。她要比艾米拉年轻，动作轻快，表现大胆。蕾拉看到后靠近兰德在他耳边低声说：“这是你昨天见的那个女孩么？” “她穿上衣服就不一样了。”兰德安慰他的妻子。 就算是跳慢舞的时候，帕夏也小心地避免离舞台下的桌子太近，这样就不可能有人往她发亮的裙带上塞钞票了。她不冒险。 她跳完之后，歌手又上来唱了一些歌，之后便是切蛋糕的时间了。新郎和新娘爬到小楼梯上去切最顶层的蛋糕，照相机和摄影机纷纷记录下这一刻。人们都举杯庆祝，一盘盘的其他点心也端上来，补足切得薄薄的蛋糕。 “这是什么？”蕾拉问法弥警官，说着从盘子里拿起一块黏黏的点心。 “哦，这是卡纳法。一种埃及甜食，把面团和蜂蜜、果仁和葡萄干卷在一起。在节日和庆典时很受欢迎。糕点师傅通常在婚礼时同时供应卡纳法和蛋糕。” 兰德在蕾拉地催促下尝了一口，同样觉得味道很好。但他另有所思。“你们有能搜索出炸弹的警犬么？”他问法弥。 “当然，我们训练它们搜查各种炸弹。” “带一只来你要花多久？” “今天是周日。我必须得到上级允许。” “试试吧，告诉他们这很重要。” 警官离开时，蕾拉问他：“你知道你在做什么吗，杰弗里？” “我希望是这样，来吧，我们喝点东西。” 马克思·瑞特纳正在吧台旁边休息。他跟兰德眨眼说，“玩得开心么？酒水是免费的，来点法国香槟怎么样？” 他们要了埃及啤酒，蕾拉一直很喜欢喝。兰德靠近酒保说：“你让我去找依本·夏伯拉因为你知道他就是礼诺。” 瑞特纳只是微笑，“或许吧。” 兰德扫视了整个房间。几乎所有的蛋糕都分给了宾客。六点的时候很多人开始离开，但法弥警长还没来。“你想在这儿待多久？”蕾拉问，“毕竟我们是不请自来的。” “再呆几分钟。” 兰德发现一些穿白外套的男人进入舞厅。许尔·万巴在和新郎的父亲说话，同时指着那个结婚蛋糕的架子。蛋糕可食用的部分已经放在纸盘里端上桌了。刚进来的人准备移动蛋糕架子时，兰德走了过去。 蛋糕师傅转过来，很惊奇地看着他说：“你好啊，先生……” “我是兰德，我们昨天见过。” 这时门外传来低沉的吼叫声，尚未离开的宾客惊慌起来。法弥警官带着他的狗来了，那只德国牧羊犬径直朝他们走来。那个糕点师傅万巴从他的外套下边抓起一样东西，兰德用自己的双拳狠狠地给了他一击，把他打倒在地。 “这是为艾米拉打的，”他喘着气说，“真希望能再重点。” 半小时后，兰德正在浸泡双手，法弥警官来了。“我想我打碎了他的下巴，”蕾拉给法弥开门的时候，他说，“我的手几乎断了。” “你的确出手很重啊，”警官说，“我的狗找到了藏在蛋糕架子里的炸弹。它们被小心包裹着，装在架子中心和蛋糕的假层里。但是，你得告诉我可以写进报告的具体信息。” “在你向夏伯拉开枪之前，他坚持说自己跟艾米拉的死无关。他没有必要撒谎，因为他马上就要干掉我了。但是，我坚信是他的同伙杀了她。他们用了炸弹，虽然有几盎司，但跟他同伙的生意关系紧密。周五晚上，艾米拉害怕在场观舞的某个熟人。你看，他们必须杀她的理由不是她跟别人说起炸弹交易的事情，而是她会在今天的婚礼上表演。为了保证运输，他们杀了她总比让她今天泄露一切的好。你看，许尔·万巴送结婚蛋糕的时候也送了炸弹，恐怖分子把蛋糕架子拿走就可以了，炸弹还在里边。我猜他要把炸弹和面粉或其他烘焙原料放在一起，混入国内是很容易的。” “这里的炸弹足以炸掉整个酒店！他们为什么要冒这个险？” “因为根本不可能有人怀疑他们。没有引线，这些炸弹也是很安全的。他们可以做成任何样子。恐怖分子就是利用了这点。” “你怎么知道炸弹在蛋糕里？” “万巴带进来的东西还有什么足够大？” “但你怎么知道是万巴杀了那个女孩？” “周五我去后台找她时，艾米拉暗示我她很害怕夜总会里的一个人。另外一个舞女无意间听到了我们的谈话，明显知道她说的是谁。她告诉艾米拉让他带点儿卡纳法来。我当时完全不明白她们在说什么，直到今天我尝了这种点心，你还告诉我这是糕点师傅做的，我才恍然大悟。那个舞女知道艾米拉害怕的人是个糕点师傅。如果艾米拉活着，会来今天的婚礼表演，婚礼现场唯一一个糕点师傅，就是许尔·万巴。” 兰德和蕾拉第二天睡到很晚。他们假期的余下时光看起来会很乏味，但或许这就很好。埃及的劫难已经发生了，也已经过去了。