shoemaker, she had spent every minute of her free time sketching and

digging in the ancient ruins within bicycle distance of her home. A

gourmet cook and an artist with a Ph.D. in Egyptian antiquities, she had

landed one of the few jobs open to Moslem women, as researcher for the

Ministry of Culture.

With great individual effort and prodigious energy, she then

successfully fought Islamic discrimination and worked up to Director of

Antiquities and later head of the Department of information- She caught

the eye of then President Mubarak, who asked her to serve on the

Egyptian delegation to the United Nations General Assembly. Five years

later, Hala was named Vice Chairman when Javier P6rez de Cudllar stepped

down in the middle of his second tour during an upheaval when five

Moslem-run nations withdrew from the charter during a controversy over

demands for religious reform. Because the men in line ahead of her

refused the job, she was appointed to serve as Secretary-General in a

tenuous hope she might mend the widening cracks in the organization's

foundation.

Now, with her own government teetering on the brink of disintegration,

there was a good chance she might become the first chief representative

of the United Nations without a good try.

An aide came up and whispered in her ear. She nodded and held up one

hand.

"I'm told the plane is ready to take off," she said. "I'll take one

more question."

Hands flew up and a dozen queries filled the air at once. Hala pointed

to a man standing at the doorway holding a tape recorder.

"Leigh Hunt of BBC, Madame Kamil. if Akhmad Yazid replaces President

Hasan's democratic government with an Islamic republic, will you return

to Egypt?"

"I am a Moslem and an Egyptian. if my country's leaders, regardless of

the government in power, wish me to come home, I will comply."

"Even though Akhmad Yazid has called you a heretic and a traitor?"

"Yes," Hala replied evenly.

"If he's half as fanatical as the Ayatollah Khomeini, you might be

running into an execution. Would you care to comment?" Hala shook her

head, smiled gracefully and said, "I must leave now. Thank you."

A circle of security guards escorted her from the throng of reporters

and onto the boarding ramp. Her aides and a large delegation from

UNESCO were already seated. Four members of the World Bank were sharing

a bottle of champagne and conversing in low tones in the pantry. The

main cabin smelled of jet fuel and Beef Wellington.

Wearily Hala fastened the catch of her seat belt and glanced out the

window. There was a light mist and the blue lights along the taxi

strips blurred into a dull glow before disappearing completely. She

removed her shoes, closed her eyes and gratefully dozed off before the

stewardess could offer her a cocktail.

After waiting its Turn behind the warm exhaust of a TWA 747, United

Nations charter Flight 106 finally moved onto the end of the runway.