CHAPTER 18
The Eastern DesertThey would have liked to stay longer in Luxor, but their permit was not open ended and they had arranged to meet Ahmed Hassan at the police station in Qena at a precise time on Saturday.
As it happened they were an hour late and they found him drinking tea and gossiping with the Chief of Police. Both men were relaxed, leaning back in their chairs while junior officers beavered away at desks, and answered telephones.
Hassan smiled at once when he saw them and rose to greet them. Dapper as ever, he had abandoned his dove grey suit for neat, crisp new khakis. His colleague glanced at their permit and passed it back to them with a grin. In very broken English he indicated he thought they were mad, and his friend Hassan was equally mad to be going with them.
‘Wh
