bloody face with her scarf The girl struggled in her mother's grip,
wailing pitifully.
Nobody was taking any notice of Royan, but she knew the police would
arrive within minutes. They were geared up to respond swiftly to
fundamentalist terror attacks. She knew that if they found her here she
would be tied up in days of interrogation. She slung the bag over her
shoulder and walked as swiftly as her bruised leg would allow her to the
alleyway down which the Honda had disappeared.
At the end of the street was a public lavatory. She locked herself in
one of the cubicles and leaned against the door with her eyes closed,
trying to recover from the shock and to get her confused thoughts in
order.
In the horror and desolation of Duraid's murder she had not until now
considered her own safety. The realization of danger had been forced
upon her in the most savage manner. She remembered the words of one of
the assassins spoken in the darkness beside the oasis 'We always know
where to find her later!'
The attempt on her life had failed only narrowly. She had to believe
that there would be another.
I can't go back to the flat,' she realized. 'The villa is gone, and
anyway they would look for me there.'
Despite the unsavoury atmosphere she remained locked in the cubicle for
over an hour while she thought out her next movements. At last she left
the toilet and went to the row of stained and cracked washbasins. She
splashed her face under the tap. Then in the mirror she combed her hair,
touched up her make-up, and straightened and tidied her clothing as best
she was able.
She walked a few blocks, doubling back on her tracks and watching behind
her to make sure she -was not being followed, before she hailed a taxi
in the street.
She made the driver drop her in the street behind her bank, and walked
the rest of the way. It was only minutes before closing time when she
was ' shown into the cubicle office of one of the sub-accountants. She
withdrew what money was in her account, which amounted to less than five
thousand Egyptian pounds. It was not a great sum, but she had a little
more in her Lloyds Bank account in York, and then she had her
Mastercard.
'You should have given us notice to withdraw an article from safe
deposit,' the bank official told her severely.
She apologized meekly and played the helpless little-girllost so
convincingly that he relented. He handed over to her the package that
contained her British passport and her Lloyds banking papers.
Duraid had numerous relatives and friends who would have been pleased to
have her to stay with them, but she wanted to remain out of sight, away
from her usual haunts.
She chose one of the two-star tourist hotels away from the river where
she hoped she could remain anonymous amongst the multitudes of the tour
groups. At this type of hotel there was a high turnover of guests, for
most of them stayed only for a few nights before moving on up to Luxor
