Carefully I edged up to one of the walls and squinted at close range. The ancient artists had covered the rock walls with a layer of plaster before applying the paint, and by the time Larry’s people got to work, moisture and the formation of salt crystals had separated large sections of plaster from the rock behind it. The loose sections had been carefully removed and placed onto padded supports; then the rock wall had been cleaned before the plaster was replaced, using modern adhesives that wouldn’t flake or dry or shrink as older types had often done. Not until that process was complete could the actual restoration begin – cleaning off the accumulated grime of decades, replacing tiny flakes of paint that had fallen to the floor or between the rock and the facing. The patience and skill required had been extraordinary.

After we emerged I found a convenient boulder and sat down, tipping my hat over my eyes. I must be getting used to the climate. The hot, dry air felt good. Yes, by God, I would do as jolly old Achmet had suggested – forget distractions and enjoy myself.

I could probably talk Schmidt into going to Aswan. It would be pleasant to cruise, without distractions. We could come back to Luxor later, after . . .

They’d be watching every move he made from now on, poised like cats by a mouse hole, waiting for him to commit the act that would condemn him to prison, or to a narrower and more permanent resting place. People have been shot while resisting arrest

A pair of booted feet came into view and I looked up to see Jean-Louis. I wasn’t sorry to have my train of thought interrupted.

‘Do you have a cigarette?’ Jean-Louis asked brusquely.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t . . .’ Then I remembered that I did. Reaching into my bag, I dredged out my cigarettes. The pack was almost full, but it was rather squashed. ‘Keep it,’ I added generously.

‘That is most kind.’

It wasn’t, but I didn’t say so. He must be a chain-smoker. The ground where he had been standing was littered with butts.

‘So, did you enjoy the paintings?’ he asked.

‘I’m still dazzled. You’ve done a magnificent job. Mes hommages.’

Between the mop of bushy hair and the beard I couldn’t see much of his face, but he didn’t respond to my smile. ‘It is only one small part of what needs to be done. That is what the work of the institute will be – preservation. A worthy cause, do you not think?’

‘Unquestionably. As I said – ’

‘A cause worthy of sacrifice.’

He appeared to be talking to himself rather than to me. I wondered if the guy was drunk. Surely not at this hour? His hands were shaking as he lit another cigarette from the butt of the first.