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bad, eh?'
    'I guess so. And it won't seem to
go away.'
    'But you never told her even
vaguely how you felt, did you?'
    'You know I didn't. And that's the
crazy thing about it.
    Something's always held me back.
Fear of being rejected, maybe, or of losing her friendship if she didn't feel
the same way and my admission complicated things.' Weaver shrugged.
    'Or maybe it was something else.
I'm not really sure. So, what about you?'
    For a moment, Haider looked
suddenly very young, like a little boy, uncomfortable confessing a secret, but
then the moment passed. 'I'd like to tell you something first. Something
     
    I haven't ever told anyone. When
my mother was finally dying, she didn't allow my father to see her, to say his
last goodbye. Not because she didn't love him, but for the very opposite
reason.
    She loved him so much. Saying
goodbye would have been too painful, too final for them both, and she knew
that.' He turned to Weaver. 'Theirs was a great love, Harry. And in a way I've
always wanted the same kind of thing. Truly deep, full of honest passion.'
    'And how do you feel about Rachel?
Be honest.'
    'Sometimes - often - I'd lie
awake, restless, imagining all the things I'd like to happen between her and
me. I'd picture us together. I'd picture her pregnant with my child, and happy
that she was my wife. I'd picture making love to her - not just sex, but real,
honest-to-God love. The kind of tenderness a man should feel for a woman he truly
loves. And so many times I really wanted to tell her.' Haider looked at his
friend. 'You know how foolhardy and impetuous I usually am, and I can't say I
wasn't tempted to tell her such things. But like you, I just couldn't.'
    'Why not?'
    'Probably for the same reason as
you. I really didn't want to upset the apple cart.'
    'What do you mean?'
    Haider placed a hand fondly on
Weaver's shoulder. 'There's another kind of love - not physical, but brotherly,
or deep friendship, call it what you will, and it's just as important. You
always were the best friend I've ever had. Maybe if one of us had made a pass,
it would have ruined everything. I don't just mean between us, because I
honestly think our camaraderie is stronger than that, but I mean the friendship
we've all had this summer.
    And I didn't want that to happen.'
    'I guess I know what you mean.
Besides, when you add it up, the three of us had a great time. And maybe that's
what's really important.'
    'Still, Harry, we've both got it
bad. And there has to be a practical solution.' Haider's drunkenness was
suddenly gone and he allowed himself a playful smile. 'Friendship aside, what
if there's the remotest chance that Rachel might be in love with one of us?’
    'What do you mean?'
    'If it were so, wouldn't it be a
shame that we didn't let nature take its course? Otherwise, we could both spend
the rest of our lives regretting that we didn't tell her how we felt before she
leaves. At least one of us could be happy. And Rachel too. It would be fair all
round. How do you feel about that?'
    'You really think she might be in
love with one of us?'
    Haider smiled again. 'Either way,
tomorrow's our last chance to find out.'
    ----

  Three
     
    The American ambassador's
residence was packed with international dignitaries, the cream of Egyptian and
European expatriate society, everyone from movie stars to diplomats, senior
military officers to academics. The party was in full swing, everyone in good
spirits, and as Weaver made his way through the dance-floor crowds, he
acknowledged the handshakes from the other members of the team saying their
goodbyes. The press had been invited, and a trestle table had been erected in
the foyer, two Egyptian policemen standing guard over some of the valuables the
dig had uncovered: gem necklaces, scarabs, gold amulets and stone cartouches.
As Weaver thanked his well wishers politely, others pressed in on him, and
suddenly he had a desperate urge to be alone. 'Would