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the
    hope – just as there was every time she saw him –
    that maybe this time things would be different.
    Maybe they wouldn't bicker and shout at each other
    and sulk, but would be happy and relaxed in each
    other's company, like a normal father and daughter.
    Maybe this time they could make things work.
    45
    Some chance, she had thought to herself as
    they'd begun their descent. You'll be pleased to see
    him for about five minutes, and then you'll start
    arguing again.
    'I suppose you know,' said her neighbour
    jovially, 'that more planes crash during landing
    than at any other time during the flight.'
    Tara had ordered more ice cubes from the
    stewardess.
    She emerged finally into the airport arrivals hall
    almost an hour after they'd touched down. There
    had been an interminable wait at passport control,
    followed by a further delay at the baggage
    carousel, where security guards were carrying out
    random luggage checks.
    'Sayf al-Tha'r,' a fellow passenger had said to
    her, shaking his head. 'What problems he causes.
    That one man can bring the country to a
    standstill!'
    Before she could ask what he meant he had
    spotted his luggage and, signalling a porter to
    collect it for him, marched off into the crowd. Her
    own bag had come round a few minutes later and,
    everything else for the moment forgotten, she had
    hefted it onto her shoulder and set off through
    customs, heart thudding with anticipation.
    Since her father had first said he'd come out to
    meet her she had imagined herself emerging into
    the arrivals hall to find him standing there wait-
    ing, the two of them yelping with joy and rushing
    towards each other, arms open. As it was, the only
    person who greeted her was a taxi driver touting
    for work. She peered along the row of faces lining
    46
    the arrivals barrier, but her father's wasn't among
    them.
    The terminal, even at that hour, was busy.
    Families greeted and took leave of each other
    noisily, children played among the plastic chairs,
    package tourists crowded around harassed-
    looking reps. Black-uniformed policemen were
    very much in evidence, guns held across their
    chests.
    She waited at the barrier for a while and then
    began wandering around the hall. She went out-
    side, where a tour rep mistook her for one of his
    party and tried to hustle her onto a coach, then
    came back in again, walking around for a while
    longer before changing some money, buying a
    coffee and sitting down in a seat that afforded a
    good view both of the entrance and the barrier.
    After an hour she called her father from a pay-
    phone, but there was no reply either from his dig
    house or the flat he kept in central Cairo. She
    wondered if his taxi had been held up in
    traffic – she presumed he would have come in a
    taxi, he'd never learnt to drive – or if he had fallen
    ill or, and with her father it was always a possi-
    bility, simply forgotten that he was supposed to be
    meeting her.
    But no, he wouldn't have forgotten. Not this
    time. Not after sounding so pleased that she was
    coming. He was late. That was all. Just late. She
    got herself another coffee, settled back in the chair
    and opened a book.
    Damn, she thought. I didn't get his Times.
    47
    5
    LUXOR, THE NEXT MORNING
    Inspector Yusuf Ezz el-Din Khalifa rose before
    dawn and, having showered and dressed, went
    into the living room to say his morning prayers.
    He felt tired and irritable, as he did every morning.
    The ritual of worship, the standing and kneeling
    and bowing and reciting, cleared his head. By the
    time he was finished he felt fresh and calm and
    strong. As he did every morning.
    'Wa lillah al-shukr',' he said to himself, moving
    into the kitchen to make coffee. 'Thanks be to
    God. His power is great.'
    He put on some water to boil, lit a cigarette and
    looked out at a woman hanging washing on the
    roof opposite, which was just below the level of
    his kitchen window, about three metres away.
    He'd often wondered whether it would be