The Cairo Codex Read Online Free PDF

things had changed so much.”
    “Fundamentalism is raising its head . . . and covering it. More than ninety percent of the population is Muslim now, and almost all of the women are wearing the hijab, at least in public. Otherwise they get hassled on the street. The daring few who don’t wear the scarf are of the upper classes or work for Western companies. And then, of course, there are the Coptic Christians, who stand out more than ever.”
    “You’re Muslim, aren’t you?”
    “If your question is why don’t I wear the hijab, I guess there are a number of reasons,” said Nadia, adjusting the scarf she wore loosely around her neck.
    Justine blushed slightly. “I’m being too inquisitive,” she said.
    “Not at all. You see this bushy, wiry hair of mine? It’s hard to tame. But that’s not the real reason. I’ll admit: I’m a bit of a renegade. I like to think of myself as a modern Muslim. As far as I’m concerned, the headscarf takes away a woman’s individuality. We all begin to look alike. And besides, it’s just too hot.”
    Justine looked directly at the scarf laying on Nadia’s shoulders and grinned.
    Nadia pulled at the fabric. “Just in case.” She smiled. The traffic opened slightly as they merged from the square onto a side street. The Shepheard Hotel appeared on the left. The Nile glistened silver and turquoise just ahead, a cement railing separating the river from the waterfront promenade known as the Corniche. Two men dressed like palace guards appeared at the car window.
    “Will you both be staying with us, my lady?” inquired the older of the two guards.
    “Only my friend.
Shukran
,” Nadia replied.
    Justine gazed up at the towering façade and memories of the original Shepheard crowded her mind. The memories were older than she was, and they didn’t belong to her but rather to her grandmother Laurence, who had spent many afternoons having tea on the sweeping terrace with her parents.
    She remembered hearing stories of the great hotel as the playground of adventurers and travelers from all over the world. The shaded terrace where her grandmother must have sat in deep wicker chairs held a commanding view of Ibrahim Pasha Street. The grand entrance encircled a spiral staircase leading to the Moorish Hall, deliciously cool and dimly lit by rays coming through a huge dome of colored glass. Laurence had described plump, embroidered chairs set around little octagonal tables. Intimacy with discretion had been the watchwords of its glamorous clientele: Churchill, Lawrence of Arabia, Roosevelt, princes, sheiks, queens, and great authors. The original Shepheard, like the glory days of Cairo, had been consumed by fire some fifty-five years ago.
    “If you’re up to it, I’ve asked a few friends to join us on a felucca this evening,” Nadia said. “I think you will enjoy meeting them. I’ll bring a light dinner and we’ll have a relaxing sail. That would give you about three hours to rest.”
    “I would love to.” As the cool air of the lobby enveloped them, she and Nadia gave a sigh of relief nearly in unison, then went to check in.
    The suite that was to be Justine’s home for the next few weeks opened into a sitting room that led to a small balcony overlooking the Nile. Narrow spiral steps wound upward to a bedroom with an even more superb view. “This is extraordinary. I may never want to leave.”
    “You’ll get tired of hotel food soon enough,” Nadia assured her. The hotel porter deposited the luggage in the bedroom, and Justine handed him a tenpound note from the cache Nadia had loaned her. Both women sought a cold bottle of Evian from the room’s refrigerator.
    “See you in the lobby at seven, then,” Nadia said, after drinking nearly half of the bottle in one swig.
    After she left, Justine removed her damp blouse and skirt and fell spreadeagle across the bed. She was asleep within moments.

C HAPTER 2

     
    B Y 6:45, J USTINE HAD TAKEN a nap and shower and changed into a