ecstasy for her than buying a ticket and attending the ballet.
As a child in Cairo, where her mother was a teacher and her father a shoemaker, she had spent every minute of her free time sketching and digging in the ancient ruins within bicycle distance of her home. A gourmet cook and an artist with a Ph.D. in Egyptian antiquities, she had landed one of the few jobs open to Moslem women, as researcher for the Ministry of Culture.
With great individual effort and prodigious energy, she then successfully fought Islamic discrimination and worked up to Director of Antiquities and later head of the Department of information-She caught the eye of then President Mubarak, who asked her to serve on the Egyptian delegation to the United Nations General Assembly. Five years later, Hala was named Vice Chairman when Javier P6rez de Cudllar stepped down in the middle of his second tour during an upheaval when five Moslem-run nations withdrew from the charter during a controversy over demands for religious reform. Because the men in line ahead of her refused the job, she was appointed to serve as SecretaryGeneral in a tenuous hope she might mend the widening cracks in the organization's foundation.
Now, with her own government teetering on the brink of disintegration, there was a good chance she might become the first chief representative of the United Nations without a good try.
An aide came up and whispered in her ear. She nodded and held up one hand.
'I'm told the plane is ready to take off,' she said. 'I'll take one more question.'
Hands flew up and a dozen queries filled the air at once. Hala pointed to a man standing at the doorway holding a tape recorder.
'Leigh Hunt of BBC, Madame Kamil. if Akhmad Yazid replaces President Hasan's democratic government with an Islamic republic, will you return to Egypt?'
'I am a Moslem and an Egyptian. if my country's leaders, regardless of the government in power, wish me to come home, I will comply.'
'Even though Akhmad Yazid has called you a heretic and a traitor?'
'Yes,' Hala replied evenly.
'If he's half as fanatical as the Ayatollah Khomeini, you might be running into an execution. Would you care to comment?' Hala shook her head, smiled gracefully and said, 'I must leave now. Thank you.'
A circle of security guards escorted her from the throng of reporters and onto the boarding ramp. Her aides and a large delegation from UNESCO were already seated. Four members of the World Bank were sharing a bottle of champagne and conversing in low tones in the pantry. The main cabin smelled of jet fuel and Beef Wellington.
Wearily Hala fastened the catch of her seat belt and glanced out the window. There was a light mist and the blue lights along the taxi strips blurred into a dull glow before disappearing completely. She removed her shoes, closed her eyes and gratefully dozed off before the stewardess could offer her a cocktail.
After waiting its Turn behind the warm exhaust of a TWA 747, United Nations charter Flight 106 finally moved onto the end of the runway.
When takeoff clearance came down from the control tower, Lemk eased the thrust levers forward and the Boeing 720-B rolled over the damp concrete and rose into the soggy air.
As soon as he reached his cruising altitude of 10,500 meters and engaged the autopilot, Lemk unbuckled his belt and rose from his seat.
'A call of nature,' he said, heading for the cabin door. His second officer and engineer, a freckle-faced man with sandy hair, smiled without turning from the instrument panel. 'I'll wait right here.'
Lemk forced a short laugh and stepped into the passenger cabin. The flight attendants were preparing the meal service. The aroma of Beef Wellington came stronger than ever. He made a gesture and drew the chief steward aside.
'Can I get you anything, Captain?'
'Just a cup of coffee,' replied Lemk. 'But don't bother, I can manage.'
'No bother.' The steward stepped into the pantry and poured a cup.
'There is one other thing.
'sir?'
'The company has asked us to take part in a government sponsored meteorology study. When we're twenty- eight hundred kilometers out from London, I'm going to drop down to fifteen-hundred meters for about ten minutes while we record wind and temperature readings. Then return to our normal altitude.'
'Hard to believe the company went along. I wish my bank account totaled what it will cost in lost fuel.'
'You can bet those cheap bastards in top management will send a bill to Washington.'
'I'll inform the passengers when the time comes so they won't be alarmed.'
'You might also announce that if anyone spots any lights through the windows, they'll be coming from a fishing fleet.'
'I'll see to it.'
Lemk's eyes swept the main cabin, pausing for an instant on the sleeping form of Hala Kamil before moving on. 'Did it strike you that security was unusually heavy?' Lemk asked conversationally.
'Of those reporting told me Scotland Yard caught wind of a plot to assassinate the SecretaryGeneral.'
'They act as though there's a terrorist plot under every rock. I had to show my identification while they searched my flight bag.'
The steward shrugged. 'What the hell, it's for our protection as well as the passengers'.'
Lemk motioned down the aisle. 'At least none of them looks like a hijacker.'
'Not unless they've taken to wearing three-piece suits.'
'Just to be on the safe side, I'll keep the cockpit door locked. Call me on the intercom only if it's
