‘I want to get out of this tent,’ I grumbled. ‘I want a shower and a drink with ice in it and a change of clothes. But I’ll settle for being here in one piece.’

‘You may as well divest yourself of that ensemble if you can do it gracefully and inconspicuously,’ Feisal said. ‘You’ll be no more noticeable in Western clothes now. I’ll find a café and we’ll have a bite while we discuss our next move.’

I was too stupefied by heat, drowsiness, and disbelief to argue, but by the time he stopped and I had – inconspicuously, I hoped – removed my tent and veil, I had had second thoughts. We were in the heart of the city by then and there were a number of young people around, including some foreigners. I cleverly deduced that Feisal had picked a spot in the university area.

‘We shouldn’t take time for this,’ I objected, as he helped me out. ‘I need to make that call to Karl Feder.’

‘Munich is in an earlier time zone, isn’t it? He’s probably out to lunch.’ Feisal led me through a doorway curtained with strings of beads and found a table. The place was hot and dark and noisy and full of flies; people were talking in a mixture of languages, and a radio was blaring Egyptian pop music in the background. ‘What do you want to eat?’

‘I don’t care. Anything. Something with ice in it.’

‘No ice, not here. It’s made of the local water.’

He ordered in Arabic. Then he said, ‘I’m going to telephone my father.’

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’

‘My mother will be out of her mind,’ Feisal said simply. ‘I have to let her know that I’m safe and innocent of the charges.’

If he had presented any other argument I might have disagreed, but that one hit me where I lived. I knew what it was like to wait hour after hour and day after day for news of someone’s fate, fearing the worst. Boy, did I know.

‘Come to think of it, my mother is probably not very happy either,’ I said guiltily. ‘Does the whole world know I’ve been abducted?’

‘Count on it,’ Feisal said’ grimacing.

‘Yeah. It’s the kind of story reporters love. Damn! My dad’s probably on his way to Cairo right now. Well, they’ll have to wait a few more hours, I can’t put through an international call from a public phone.’

The food arrived – chunks of meat and pieces of pepper and onion, on little wooden skewers.

‘It won’t take long,’ Feisal said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

It was two o’clock. Three more hours to wait. At least three. If they weren’t there at 5 p.m. . . . I tried not to think about it.