Surri turned the spit holding the meat and prodded the embers of the fire back to life. They had travelled hard the whole day, wasting valuable time hunting down the tracks of their quarry among the hard rock surface of the foothills and now, settled in a protective shelter of rocks, they quit for the night. "They must have run the camels very hard to reach here so quickly."

Rafiman lay back comfortably against his saddle, wiping the film of sand from his revolver with an oilcloth. "Yes, well I think we made pretty good time ourselves Surri, in spite of the back tracking. I don't think they are much more than five or six hours ahead of us and they will have stopped for the night as well I think. Nobody wants to walk a camel through those rocks in the dark." He put his gun away and pulled himself up, squat walking toward the fire. "How's this dinner of yours coming, I'm famished."

Surri slipped the blade of his knife into the roasting meat and smiled happily, "It's done sir. Could you pass me those plates?"

Rafiman accepted his portion of meat and scooped a spoonful of rice from the pot beside the fire; it was a treat having his Corporal around to cook and wait on him so willingly. He ripped a chunk of coarse-grained bread from a loaf, passing it back to Surri. "When we're done here, try contacting Idfu on the radio and see if there is anything new on that Kabbar fellow. I'd like to get some better idea of exactly what's going on with these people."

Surri nodded as he tucked greedily into the plate of hot food. The two policemen ate in silence, their tiny forms dwarfed by the immense night sky with its glittering display of stars.

*****

"Idfu station reports that the victim Kabbar recovered well enough to give a statement to the Captain, Sergeant." Surri had spent a frustrating half hour twiddling knobs and adjusting the radio's antenna before finally getting through to their headquarters.

"And?" Rafiman lay comfortably against a rock face, admiring the ash of his thin cigar.

"And he says that Baeder was trying to find the man called Stone and some professor from Asyut university. Apparently, Kabbar said that this man, Hilton Vanier, came to him with a relic of some kind, a Canopic jar, he called it. Kabbar put him onto the professor, then Stone turned up saying he was acting for the professor, and wanted to find Vanier. Kabbar told him where he was. He thinks Baeder got the jar from Vanier somehow, then Stone must have stolen it from him. That's why he showed up at Kabbar's and beat him up so badly. I guess that's the down side of trafficking in information. Anyway, when he left, he told Kabbar he would be back if he couldn't find this Stone, and or the professor."

Rafiman pondered the information, setting down his cigar and wiping his plate clean with the remainder of his bread. He slurped it down noisily before speaking, "Well, it seems we have some thieves in both camps. This Stone. Up until now all I've heard of him is he runs local tours. Now he's hooked up with this professor, and several others as well. A lot of odd shaped pieces in this puzzle Corporal. We also know Baeder formed a small band and is hot on their trail . . ."

"As we are on his," Surri interjected.

". . . Yes. I'd be willing to bet that the leg we found belongs to this Hilton Vanier chap, and that our friend Baeder was the reason he lost it. The jar obviously seems to be the common factor here."

Surri busied himself cleaning the plates and utensils with sand then rinsing them with water from his canteen. "I would suggest sir, that this jar sparked something serious in the university professor. That's probably why he formed this little expedition so hastily, don't you think?"

"Agreed. So I also think that Baeder's interest was sparked by the professor's. Instead of charging in and reclaiming the object, he's trailing them to see what they find- then he'll make his move." Rafiman lay back, a smile forming on his face, "In which case, Surri my friend, we don't have to worry about catching him right away. We can play the same game of watch and wait. I think this news has given us some extra time." He pulled his blanket up to his neck and turned on his side, "See to the fire and the animals Surri. I'll see you in the morning." The Corporal gave a half salute to the still figure of his Sergeant and began to tidy the camp, reflecting on the words he embraced earlier, about being a team.

Rafiman did not sleep right away. In his mind he was tracing his hunger for adventure back through the years to his youth; herding goats in barren, rocky hills such as these, with his father. Sleeping with the herd on cold nights on rough ground; he'd longed for a different life; something with more meaning, more purpose than that which his father offered him. He loved his parents. They did the best they could with what they had for he and his young sister, but Rafiman had been bitten by the grand visions of famous people, and their accomplishments, in the few worn books his family possessed.

When he reached the age of fifteen, he'd left home without warning, making the long journey to Cairo, where his dreams and confidence were soon crushed by the sheer magnitude of the bustling city. Rafiman found that survival had become his new career, and that the adventurous fantasies he'd imagined, on those desolate hills with his father, were just that- fantasies. For two years he lived in the under belly of society, scrounging, and sometimes even stealing, to feed and shelter himself. The shame of his failure prevented him from returning home; the hasty note he'd left his parents, promising success and honour, haunted him with unrelenting guilt.

He pulled his blanket up around his neck and rolled to a new position, attempting to press the disappointment of those early years from his mind. Fate had intervened on the very same morning that he made the agonizing decision to return to his family. A group of policemen raided the old warehouse upstairs from where he was sleeping. Rafiman had crept up the rotting stairs to a position where he could see the officers beating and handcuffing three ragged looking men. When one broke away and charged through the doorway at the top of the stairs, a policeman dove after him, knocking the man down and crashing into the wall next to Rafiman.

Before he knew what was happening, he was thrown into the back of a van along with the three prisoners, and driven to the station house in downtown Cairo. Terrified, he clung to the bars of the cell they'd placed them in, afraid to look behind him. Tears streamed down his stricken face and he called in vain for someone to help him. The following morning he awoke from a torturous sleep to the quizzical stare of a police guard in a French style kepi, and a grey tunic, held over his huge round frame by a Sam Brown belt. Rafiman stared back speechless, his heart resuming its rapid thumping from the day before.

"So, my little man, what puts you in the company of these other villains?" His voice was gentle and contained a slight musical quality.

Rafiman clutched desperately at the bars and pulled himself to his knees, "Allah is my witness sir, I am not with them. I was- I just-"

"Calmly, calmly now. What is your name for starters?"

He stood up eagerly, encouraged by the policeman's gentle questions, "I am Aju Rafiman from the hills above the Khârgu Oasis. My father is a goat herd—"

"Slow down there. I don't need your entire ancestry." He looked kindly at the frightened boy, "Khârgu Oasis. You're a long way from home don't you think.?"

Unable to contain himself and unstoppable in his desperation, Rafiman blurted out a choppy version of his past two years, interspersed with pleas and assurances that he wasn't a criminal nor a member of the group he'd been arrested with. When he finally finished, panting and shaking from the effort, the policeman produced a large key and undid the cell door, waving him out.

"Come with me," he said, leading Rafiman down a corridor to a wooden bench outside a door marked, Cairo Police, Captain Ben Ali-Rama. "Wait right here. Don't move, and not a sound."

Arms wrapped tightly about both legs, Rafiman was more than happy to stay put, delighted to be out of the crowded, stinking cell. He smiled as sleep began to intrude on his reveries, the subsequent years flashing past in fast forward. His start, working as a gopher for the officers, provided by a good word to the Captain from the big jailer. Then the opportunity to attend a cadet training program, and from there, a steady climb over the years to his present rank as Sergeant.

Rafiman had made peace with his parents as well. Both had been invited to his graduation, and his mother, at least, had lived long enough to see him finally become an officer. The lone regret was his posting to Idfu. Rafiman had yearned for the challenges of big city policing, and this current investigation was heaven sent.