Glenn Meade Read Free

many years they returned to the States each summer. His
mother's family once had a large estate in upstate
New York
. I visited there some years back,
but the place had changed hands many years ago, the house had been demolished,
and no one in the area remembered the Haiders.'
    Tin hardly surprised. You're
talking about a long time ago.'
    'Johann Haider also spoke several
languages fluently, including Arabic, and attained the rank of major during the
war, though he never joined the Nazi Party. The rest of his military background
is pretty much a mystery, apart from a stint spent in
North
Africa
, and there were no details of the mission he's supposed to
have died on.'
    'And what else did you learn?'
Weaver said quietly.
    'This is where it starts to get
really interesting. I thought no more about it until recently, when I
interviewed one of the former heads of the
Egyptian
Museum
,
Kemal Assan, shortly before he died. I mentioned Franz Haider in passing and
Assan said he met his son, Johann, in 1939, when he took part in an
archaeological dig at
Sakkara
. In fact, he
said he'd also seen him in
Cairo
after the war. Considering Haider was supposed to be dead, that fact seemed
pretty incredible.'
    Weaver was suddenly very
interested. 'And what exactly did this Assan tell you?'
    'Ten years ago, he was sitting in
a
Cairo
coffee
house minding his own business, when he noticed a man seated at the next table.
Assan thought his face seemed oddly familiar.
    When he asked if he knew him, the
man simply smiled and said in German, "We met long ago in another
life." Then he got up and left. Assan spoke some German, and he was
adamant the man was Johann Haider.'
    Weaver's eyes sparked. 'Didn't he
try to follow him?'
    'He tried to, but he lost him in
the bazaar.'
    Weaver looked deflated. 'I see. So
you believed Haider might be still alive?'
    'It's a mystery that's bothered me
ever since. I really didn't know what to think - the whole thing was such a
puzzle. But certainly I thought there might have been a story in it. If Haider
was still alive, there was a chance he might know what had become of his
father's collection. Then I came across a mention in yesterday's Egyptian
Gazette, about the body of an elderly German recovered from the
Nile
. Apparently, his identity papers named him as Johann
Haider, and the police were asking for anyone with information to come forward.
When I heard the name I put two and two together, and hoped it might make
four.'
    I looked across at Weaver, who
stood there, taking it all in, but he didn't say another word.
    'The question is, what are you
doing here, Colonel? The last I heard you were living in
Washington
. But come to think of it, if I
remember correctly, you've had a lifelong interest in
Egypt
.
    You have several archaeological
digs to your credit, and served here with military intelligence during the war.
But I can only presume the real reason you're here is because you obviously
knew about Haider.'
    Weaver seemed suddenly at a loss
for words, caught in a trap of his own making. He sighed, flopped into one of
the chairs, but didn't utter a word.
    'Was it Johann Haider back there
in the morgue?'
    Weaver didn't reply.
    'Then at least tell me why you're
here. And how you knew Haider. After all, it's not every day I come across a
story about a man who's been reported dead, and yet might still be alive over
fifty years later.'
    Still Weaver didn't answer.
    I stared at him. 'I get the
feeling I'm talking to a brick wall, Colonel'
    He remained sitting there,
motionless.
    'At least tell me why you're here.
One simple question. Is that too much to ask?'
    Weaver seemed to lose his patience.
'God, Carney, you're like a dog after a bone. I've had enough of your goddamned
questions.' He stood up, as if to leave, and said firmly, 'You're a stranger to
me. And I don't discuss my personal business with strangers.'
    'OK, Colonel, if that's what you
wish. But I'd like