“Hassan had an antiquity that could have helped me with a book I’m writing and a film I hope to produce on the Queen of Sheba.”

“Sheba,” the inspector said with disappointment. “A dead woman.”

“Dead and not dead. Like Cleopatra.”

“Cleopatra was a great queen.”

“Yes. And so was Sheba. As beautiful as the day.”

The door opened to admit another man. Unlike the rotund and grubby inspector, he was tall and slim. He was dressed in a pale olive suit that had razor creases in the trousers. Sharif got up from his chair and stood at attention.

“The man said, “Thank you, Inspector. You and your officer may go.”

The inspector snapped off a salute and left the room with the officer.

The man eased into the inspector’s chair and placed a manila file on the table. He stared at Saxon with amusement on his narrow face.

“I’m told you like the camel market,” the man said in perfect English.

“I admire the way camels hold their heads high. They remind me of aristocrats who have fallen on hard times.”

“Interesting,” the man said. “My name is Yousef. I am with the Interior Ministry.”

Saxon knew that the Interior Ministry was synonymous with national security.

“You’re very kind to come out here.”

“Kindness had little to do with this situation.” He opened the folder. “This is the file of the real Hassan.” His manicured fingers extracted several sheets of paper stapled together, which he slid across to Saxon. “And this is the list of antiquities.”

Saxon read the list, which was in English. “This corresponds to the list published by the BaghdadMuseum.”

“Then I am afraid you are too late.” Yousef sat back and tented his fingers. “The items were removed by the army. They are in the possession of a representative from UNESCO. The day after the transfer, Hassan was tortured and murdered.” Yousef drew his finger across his throat.

“If he didn’t have any antiquities, why did he tell me he had them?”

“A thief steals more than once. He may have felt he could dupe a rich foreigner.”

“Do you know who killed him?”

“We are working on it.”

“Who was the UNESCO representative?”

“An Italian woman. Her name is Carina Mechadi.”

“Do you know if she is still in Cairo?”

“She left on a ship with the antiquities some days ago. She is taking them to the United States under an arrangement with the Baghdad government.”

The wind went out of Saxon’s sails. He had been so close to his goal. “May I be allowed to go now?”

“Anytime you wish.” Yousef rose from his chair. “There is always a woman at the heart of every case.”

“Miss Mechadi?”

He shook his head. “Sheba.”