***** Vol.3 Chap.44 Back to Cairo *****

Frank boarded the plane for Cairo in the late evening. It will be a long flight. He never liked these ten-hour flights. With all the running around in the past few days, he was physically tired. After what he pretended to be a sumptuous dinner with the scanty in-flight meals in the main cabin, he fell asleep quickly but was rudely awakened when breakfast was served an hour and a half before landing. After a cup of strong coffee, he was refreshed and ready to face the day.

The plane landed at a new airport. After being away for twenty-five years, he meandered around the airport like a tourist in a strange country, even though he was born here. He looked around and gawked at all the decorations. The airport was new, beautiful, and modern. He had never been to this new airport.

While everyone hurried past, trying to get through passport control and customs as quickly as possible, he took his time. He strolled down the long corridors admiring the modernization efforts his childhood country had accomplished, such as automatic walkways for long corridors and escalators for stairs. He was amazed at all the contactless faucets and drinking fountains.

After passport control and customs, no more lines existed since he was the last one on the flight to come through. They waved him through. He fit the image of a tourist, not a terrorist. He had no luggage to claim, so he proceeded outside to pick up his rental car.

Though he had spent time in Cairo, he really did not have very many friends there. He drove around, looking at the sights. Some places remained the same. Other neighborhoods were completely torn down, only to be replaced by high-rise apartments and multi-story supermarkets. He drove to his alma-mater, the National University of Egypt. The university was still there. Nothing has changed. He fought the urge to stop but he had more urgent things in mind.

There will be time to come back and visit. Frank told himself.

One thing he must do, to stop by the cemetery and pay respect to Catherine, his beloved wife. He headed there and was amazed how much the country and the city had changed. Frank got lost three times and had to stop and ask for directions.

At last, he arrived. He bought some fresh flowers from the local flower shop and was surprised he had no trouble locating Catherine’s grave. The headstone read, ‘To my beloved Catherine.’ The sight of the headstone brought back waves and waves of memory.

He sat down and wept and wept for the longest time.

In his mind, he remembered all the fun times they had, the places they had gone to, the hard times and the good times. He recalled the accident. The flames of the burning bus, as real to him now as then to his wife. Even though after twenty-five years, the event and her funeral was as real now as then. How could he forget?

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He took time to tell Catherine everything that had happened during the last twenty-five years, how he had remained faithful all these years, the reason he had not been back to see her and visit her was because of his research work. No! He had not been back because he could not bear the thoughts of being with her and apart from her again. He told her he had to stay away and concentrate on his work because he did not know what else to do. It was too painful in his heart every time he thought about her.

He told her there was no pictures of her visible in the apartment and in the office because he wanted nothing to remind him of his happiness with her. He apologized profusely about his stubbornness and his absence, and he begged for her forgiveness.

Strangely, he was relieved for the first time. An enormous burden had been lifted from him. He was free because he knew she understood.

After a brief period of silence, he told her all the major events that had happened for the twenty-five years. He told her all the exciting research he had done in Pittsburgh, the wonderful discovery about the genetic coding of violent traits, about getting the Scientist of the Year Award, about the struggles and dilemmas within him. He asked her for her advice.

Then he told her how he had been betrayed by his post-doc, how his career had come to an abrupt end, and how he saw the Sphinx in his illusions. Finally, he told her he did not know what he should do next and asked her once more for her omnipotent guidance.

The afternoon flew by. He decided to check into a local hotel and spent the night in Cairo. He had some shopping and driving ahead of him on the following day.

After a long and peaceful sleep, he woke up refreshed the following morning. He had a hearty breakfast at the restaurant. The night before, he was so tired that he had never unpacked. Grabbing his carryon and his laptop, he checked out and headed towards the shopping district. Intending to go camping next to the Sphinx for a week as prior times with Catherine during childhood, he went shopping for supplies.

As he was gathering supplies, the urge to get to the bottom of his illusions grew steadily. He did not know why the illusions of the Sphinx had been so real. He had no clue why he had been drawn toward the statue and no hint of what was there or even if there would be anything there. It seemed there was an unseen magnetism drawing him there, an unseen force that grew and grew the closer he got to the Sphinx. He must find out what this was all about.

He got some local currency from the ATMs with his credit card. On a hunch, he drove to the university district because he knew the shops well in that area. He stopped at one store and picked up a full pack of water and some of his favorite dried fruit mix with dates, apricots, and apples. He headed down the street to the bakery shop and bought some pumpkin-nickel bread. Further down the street, he stopped at a dried meat store and picked up several pounds of dried, pickled mutton and beef. Within an hour, he bought more than he could carry.

The carry-on luggage appeared to be of little use for camping, so he returned to the university district for some proper camping gear at a sports center and stocked up on what he needed, a good hefty backpack with a good size canteen. He also picked up some typical portable camping tools like a foldable shovel, some matches, a good flashlight with an extra set of batteries, a small portable tent, and a small sleeping bag.

Not that he needed all these things, but he wanted to be prepared. By the time he finished shopping, the morning had swiftly slipped by. But being eager to get going, he stopped by a small street side vendor and bought some deliciously stuffed pita bread.