The trio scuffed across the dusty street and entered through the once, brightly painted arch of the Golden Camel, into a surprisingly smart and clean lounge that was a holdover from the days of a more pronounced British presence. Its mosaic tile floors were a spectacle of design and colour that filled the fairly large room from paneled wall to paneled wall. Large stucco covered Ionic columns, paraded down the length of the room, their bases hidden by pots of palm fronds and wild desert flowers. High up on the ornamental ceiling two huge electric fans spun lazily, driving the humid air back down onto the guests. The large room was nearly empty; some of the local heavyweights taking advantage of the quiet, for conducting business. Seating themselves at a small table near one of the plants, Stone ordered a carafe of arrack made from sap, rather than what he considered, the vile concoction made from ground dates and water, along with a plate of cakes. The prompt waiter bowed his retreat and scurried away to fetch the order.

"Anyone hungry," Stone asked, giving the young woman a larger portion of interest, "they have some decent grain cakes here." Both the Van Reagars declined and Stone was immediately asked to explain why he had called back. He told them what he had found out and what he suspected the man calling himself Vanier might be up to, and what he had done regarding the meeting.

"This doesn't sound safe to me," Melanie protested, when he was done. She pulled her eyes away and directed them at her father, one hand instinctively pulling her collar closer about her throat.

"Now, now. Don't get ahead of things dear, Mister Stone feels that a meeting would be quite safe. Don't you?"

"Yeah I do. I think this is just a greedy guy trying to get as much as he can out of you. I don't think there's any danger to worry about as long as we don't tip our hand, or push past negotiating a price. Just act as though all is fine but stay alert." The waiter returned with three cups and a small plate of cakes for Stone. With exaggerated care he poured the dark liquid and placed each cup in front of the trio.

"I still don't like the idea," Melanie spoke up, tasting her drink and setting it aside with a sour expression.

"It's your call professor," Stone pushed a tiny cake into his mouth and followed it with a gulp of arrack, mulching the mixture around before swallowing noisily.

Melanie frowned with distaste and leaned back, crossing her arms. Her first impressions of this Stone were not good. He was a little too unconcerned about their situation to suit her and, as she watched he and her father talking, she found herself going over each of his features in detail. She guessed he was somewhere between twenty eight and thirty two, maybe six feet tall, nice build. Well, well built anyway. Browny blond hair that grew without direction, deep brown eyes, and lashes to kill for. The nose was maybe a little long and it curved down slightly over a pleasant mouth. Pale lips. Acceptably white teeth, in spite of his apparent diet; all in all a rather handsome man, in a rough sort of way.

"Hum. What?"

Stone grinned, realizing he'd caught her looking at him, "I said, your father and I have decided to take the meeting. Do you want to come?"

Melanie blushed furiously and tried to hide her reaction by sipping her drink. The result brought a gale of laughter from both the men as she screwed her face into a knot and swallowed, her blush deeper than ever. "Yes I do!" She blurted angrily.

"Fine then, let's do it," Stone dropped some money on the table and led the way outside.

*****

Sergeant Aju Rafiman of the Idfu constabulary jotted a few notes in his little wire bound notebook and shoved it back in his tunic pocket. He buttoned the pocket, smoothed the material, and stood staring out across the river with his hands clasped behind his back. A crowd of noisy people had gathered at the site of the find, and his men were scolding them back behind the line, which the Sergeant had scratched on the ground. He strutted down to the river's edge where two others of his force stood at attention over the object on the wet, mud covered blanket. When he had received the call about the discovery of a body in the river, Rafiman cheered up immediately. Maybe he was going to get his teeth into something worthwhile for a change, instead of the daily slate of petty complaints and the usual tales of theft and cheating. He yearned to be in Cairo using his policeman's skills, instead of this forsaken outpost, filled with transient farmers and traders.

"We're not going to get much from a leg and a boot other than it probably was a foreigner," he sighed disappointedly, stroking his well sculpted beard. "Wrap it up and take it to the crematoria." The two policemen hurriedly bundled up the limb and hustled off to their truck leaving the Sergeant alone at the river's shore.

"Should we open an investigation sir?" The slight Corporal asked, walking up and coming to attention at his superior's side.

"Unfortunately I don't think it would achieve much. It might have floated for miles for all we know. Let's just wait and see if anything turns up about a missing American or European. Likely a tourist. It might just have been a bit of bad luck. Too close to the edge at night, a quick lunge by our friend the crocodile and . . ." he shrugged his shoulders and turned to head back to his waiting car.

"Why European or American sir?"

Rafiman studied the earnest look on his Corporal's young, clean shaven face. "The boot, Surri. Simple deduction since no one around here would wear them, let alone afford them."

"Perhaps stolen sir?" Surri assumed a wise expression, hoping to impress his superior with a thoughtful alternative.

Rafiman gave him a sour look, "No Surri. Not unless your thief stole a white leg as well."

"A white leg? Oh- yes. I see."

*****

Max Baeder watched the group nervously as they examined the Canopic jar next to the room's tiny window. The air in the cramped space made it feel as though they were breathing through a wet cloth. This was show time, he huffed, priming himself. Across the way a muezzin was again calling the faithful to prayer from his perch atop the town's only minaret. The plaintive wail drifted over the roof tops and settled slowly on the streets below. Max chugged down the rest of his drink and set the glass down by the empty bottle on the shelf.

Karl Van Reagar wound the cloth back over the jar and turned to their host, "So Mister ah, Vanier. Just what were you hoping for, regarding this," he held the bundle out in front of him. A damp sheen of perspiration appeared as Max caught the pause over his name and his caution went into overdrive.

"Perhaps the professor would care to make an offer." He was upset that no useful information had surfaced before having to set a price.

"Well to be truthful," Karl ambled over to the bed and sat down, "I actually thought your interest might have been in joining with us, and doing a little investigation into the source of this. I wasn't expecting to have to buy it."

Max shot a sharp glance at Stone, who just shrugged and said he'd passed on the message as requested.

"Why would I want to go digging around in some lousy desert chasing rainbows? I've already found this- this jar. I'm only interested in its value." The looks he received suggested that he had erred in his response.

In a voice weaker than she'd planned, Melanie interrupted, "Mr. Vanier, our information on you was that digging around in the desert, chasing rainbows, was exactly what you liked doing."

Max gave her a brutal stare, and in an equally brutal voice, "Yeah, well your information was wrong." He cursed himself, knowing he was unwisely compounding the error. "Now do you want to buy this thing or not?"

"I don't have personal funds available," Karl said cautiously, "but I could probably arrange something with the university. If we could take this back with us for further study I'm sure-"

Max let out a sharp barking laugh, "I don't think so. Whata you take me for, some kinda boob?"

"No, not at all," Karl stood up and gestured calmly, "I'll personally give you a signed receipt for the item and when the unive—"

"Gimme that!" Max rushed forward, snatching the bundle and shoving Karl back onto the bed. He'd gone too far and he knew it. They knew something too, he could feel it in his gut.

"Dad!" Melanie screamed.

Stone stepped forward and reached for Max, "Hey, simmer down. No need to get rough. We can—"

"Get back! One more step and I'll gut you." Max crouched, feet apart, a wicked looking knife waving in front of him. He knew his temper and impatience had blown the deal. They suspected something he was sure. Maybe they knew about Vanier? His impulse to follow the guy had stemmed from a chance conversation with a local trader and dealer in rare goods. Vanier had approached the man with an object, which turned out to be the jar, asking about its authenticity. The trader's eagerness, and ultimate disappointment, when he failed to purchase it, piqued Max's interest, enough that ,after following Vanier around from place to place, decided that this jar would be worth owning. Now, because of his temper, he'd gotten himself into this mess and was not only wrecking any deal, he was painting himself as the prime suspect in Vanier's disappearance. He had to get rid of them quick. Find someplace else to hole up before the cops got involved.

Without any hesitation, Melanie hurled a ceramic basin from the dresser, catching Max in the side of the head, and with a roar he staggered back against the wall, blood streaming down his face. Stone quickly grabbed the jar from his hand before is was dropped and broken, booting him back onto the floor in the corner of the room at the same time.

"Here! Take this and get your dad out of here." He shoved the bundle at Melanie and pushed the two of them toward the hallway. Stone turned to find Max on his feet lunging toward him. He stepped into the doorway and swung the open door back as hard as he could. There was a sickeningly wet thunk, a moan, and the sound of Max crumpling to the floor. Not bothering to look back, he ran off down the stairs, past the puzzled desk clerk and into the street. The Van Reagars were waving frantically to him from the idling Land Rover, and he barely jumped inside before Melanie screamed away in a cloud of flying gravel and dust.

"Do you know where you're going?" Stone shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Straight back to Asyut and the university," she shouted back, her chin jutting out determinedly.

"And my stuff at the hotel?"

"You can send for it."

"Right."