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By Root 939 0

others wandered off in search of souvenirs, of which there was no dearth. Only a dozen people expressed an interest in the interior of the pyramid. Among them were Bright and Sweet and the large square woman who had been pointed out to me as a famous novelist. No one could have accused her of treading on Egyptian sensibilities; she was draped from shoulders to shins in flowing robes, with a scarf wound wimple-style around her large square face. Her features were vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen them, and I thought I would have remembered that face. Not many famous lady novelists have perceptible moustaches.

‘What’s her name?’ I whispered to Alice.

‘Louisa Ferncliffe. But she writes under the name of Valerie Vandine. Ever heard of her?’

I had. I had even, for my sins, read a couple of her novels. She was one of Schmidt’s favourite authors. Schmidt only reads two types of fiction: hard-boiled mysteries featuring lean tough detectives, and torrid historical romances featuring helpless voluptuous heroines. Violence and sex, in other words. I studied the massive form ahead of me with disbelief. The woman must have an incredibly vivid imagination. The sexual gymnastics she described in such interesting detail would have been physically impossible for someone built like that.

So that was why she looked familiar. The photographs on the backs of her books had omitted the moustache and the lines scoring her forehead. A couple of chins had been airbrushed out too.

‘Her heroines are all tall and slim and blond,’ I muttered. Alice chuckled. ‘It will be interesting to see how she gets a tall slim blond into a novel about ancient Egypt. She’s gathering material for one, I understand.’

Louisa tilted her head back and inspected the crumbling side of the structure. ‘Where are the Pyramid Texts?’ she demanded.

Feisal had almost certainly heard dumber questions; he said patiently, ‘Inside the pyramid, Miss Vandine. Are you coming?’

Instead of answering she turned her back on him and addressed Alice. ‘Are you?’

‘I had intended to, yes.’

‘In that case I will accompany you. I want to have some of the texts translated; to hear echo, in the air of the tomb chamber, the magical words of protection.’ Throwing her arms up, she intoned, ‘O gods of the underworld, greet this pharaoh in peace! O heavenly guides, bring down the wrath of Anubis on all who would violate this tomb!’

That was too much for Feisal. ‘I’m afraid there is no such text, Miss Vandine.’

She looked him up and down and back up again. ‘How would you know? Dr Gordon is an expert – ’

‘Not on the Pyramid Texts,’ Alice said. Her face was flushed, though not as darkly as Feisal’s. She went on, very quietly, ‘Feisal’s doctoral dissertation involved a comparison of Pyramid and coffin Texts. He is a graduate of Oxford and the University of Chicago. I believe I won’t accompany you after all. The air is rather . . . close inside.’

After the group had gone in I said, ‘Well done, Alice. Firm but ladylike.’

‘Too ladylike.’ Alice took off her hat and fanned her hot face. ‘She didn’t get it. There are always a few like that in every group. I don’t know why I bother; bigotry and rudeness are unconquerable.’

‘With his qualifications, why is he working as a guide?’

Alice shrugged. ‘Jobs are hard to find. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.’

‘You’re right.’ The memory of how I had wangled my own job made me squirm uncomfortably. Blackmail would be too harsh a word, but . . .

‘His father is a low-level bureaucrat;” Alice went on. ‘Hardly more than a glorified clerk. He has sacrificed all his life so that his son – the only son – could have a professioual career. The pressures on Feisal have been enormous, as you can imagine.’

‘Yeah. People are pretty much the same everywhere, I guess.’

‘In some ways.’ Alice grinned at me. ‘And very different in other ways. Let’s have a look at a few of the other mastabas, shall we? If you like reliefs, some are quite lovely. Or would you rather visit the Serapeum? It’s a little distance, but – ’

‘I’m not really all that keen