Read Glenn Meade for Free Online Page A

you excuse me, please? I
need some fresh air.'
    He made his way through the
throng, crossed to a French window and stepped out on to a balcony. It was cool
outside, lotus and bougainvillea scenting the night air, the window boxes full
of flowers. The residency gardens were magnificent, a wooden pavilion in the
grounds was lit up with colored lights, and the majestic
Nile
lay beyond the walls. But that night there seemed an incredible stillness about
the city, the usual traffic noise the merest whisper.
    As he stood there, enjoying the
solitude and the perfumed air, the door opened and Rachel appeared, wearing a
simple black dress that hugged her figure, Jack Haider behind her. He wore a
linen suit and held a bottle of ice-cold champagne and three glasses. As he
handed a glass across, he smiled. 'Quite a party, isn't it? But you look like
you've had enough dancing for one evening, Harry. We thought we might find you
somewhere quiet. Have another drink.'
    'Why not.' Weaver took the
champagne, and when Rachel was handed hers she placed it on the balcony,
untouched, a sudden exhaustion showing in her face.
    'Tired?' Weaver asked.
    She smiled. 'I'm afraid you and
Jack have worn me off my feet.'
    Haider said, 'By the way, before I
forget, there's a few important people who'd like to meet you, Rachel.'
    'Who?'
    'The ambassador wants to pay his
respects, and a fellow named Kemal Assan. He's the son of an Egyptian dignitary
who's an acquaintance of my father's. There's also a visiting professor from
the
British
Museum
who's had far too much to drink
and speaks like this-' Haider pinched his nose in a mock gesture, and imitated
a perfect upper-class English accent.
    'They're a boring lot, my dear, so
I told the ruddy chaps you're tired and they can't keep you long. Shall I fetch
them in?'
    Rachel giggled. 'Thanks, Jack.'
    He went out and Rachel said, 'So,
this is our last evening together, Harry. I'll miss you.'
    'You mean that?'
    'Of course.' She looked into his
face, and said suddenly, 'You know what's strange? I know so little of your
background. Jack's is an open book. An American mother and a wealthy Prussian
father who's a well-known collector of Egyptian artifacts.
    Languages and the classics at
Heidelberg
, and a year at
Oxford
in between.' She laughed. 'You can
tell - he does that funny, upper-class English accent so well. But you've never
spoken much about your past, except for the few things you've told me about.
You graduated in engineering in
New
York
, and you and Jack have been friends since
childhood.' She smiled. 'There has to be much more, unless you're keeping
secrets. Tell me how you both met. I'd love to know.’
    Weaver sipped his champagne,
looked out over the balcony.
    'There isn't much to tell. When I
was five, my father became the caretaker on the estate belonging to the family
of Jack's mother.
    It's a big, rambling old place in
upstate
New York
.
We were the only two children, both only sons, and I guess it was natural we'd
either become rivals or friends. But we became friends, right from the very start.
Whenever we were together, we'd spend our time getting up to mischief on the
estate. The Troublesome Two, his father called us. Sure, his family were
wealthy, and mine were just ordinary folks, but Franz Haider always treated us
with respect, no matter mat we came from different sides of the tracks. He was
never a snob and he made sure his son wasn't one, either. Even as a small boy,
Jack was always good fun to be with, and a great companion. There isn't a
pretentious bone in his body.'
    'What drew you to
Egypt
?'
    'After I graduated last year, I
went to work for a civil engineering firm in
New York
. But to tell the truth, after a
couple of months I was beginning to find it boring. Jack's father liked to keep
some of his collection at the estate. As children we'd see the kind of exotic
things you'd come across only in books or museums - scarabs, ancient