GREGORY EVANS DISMISSED the valet after giving him a handsome tip. He locked the door, left his luggage on the bed, and went to the window to open it wide, as there was a corrosive, harsh odor in the air that choked his throat. He stood there, leaning slightly outward, taking in the air and admiring, in the distance, the incredible landscape of centuries-old houses, whose rooftops stretched from Port Said Avenue to Ramesses.
For a moment, he felt transported back in time to old Cairo in the late nineteenth century, but despite the beauty of that strange and mysterious world that fueled his most voluptuous fantasies, distancing him from the mysticism of others, he couldn't help but wonder how he would find Giovanna if he didn't know anyone in the city. He didn't even know if she and Umbert were still together or if, on the contrary, Antonia was right and the architect was a member of the lodge.
Greg didn't want to think about it. Just imagining it mortified him. He took off his shoes to get more comfortable. Then he put his suitcase in the closet and stretched out on the bed, taking up all the available space, determined to rest. He needed some sleep and, for a few hours, forget everything that could have confused him even more.
He'd barely closed his eyes when the phone beside him on the nightstand rang. His heart leaped in his chest with shock. Reflexively, he leaned forward until he sat up. His hand trembled as he reached for the receiver.
He hadn't even checked into the Nile Hilton for ten minutes and had already been spotted.
This meant that The Widow's Sons followed closely in his footsteps.
— Yes...? Who is it? — he asked, bluntly.
— Good afternoon, Mr. Evans — said a voice with a strong Arabic accent, but in very acceptable English. — I'm sorry to disturb you, but a letter has just been left for you at reception. Would you like us to have it delivered to your room?
He breathed a sigh of deep relief. It was the hotel manager.
— Yes, please... — he stammered, then cleared his throat slightly and added: — ...and thank you for taking the time to let me know.
— You're welcome, sir.
He put on his shoes again, ready to await the arrival of the messenger on duty. While he waited, he went to the window again to clear his head. Antonia's comment about Umbert and his possible connection to the lodge kept running through his mind. It was true that he was intimately familiar with the brotherhood's secret rituals and many stories about divine sciences, alchemists, and the Templars.
He could understand her eagerness for knowledge as a playful remedy for the depressing loneliness forced by her work against New York crime, but there was something, a detail, that was hard for him to digest: the fact that her car had disappeared the morning they were kidnapped. This led him to think that perhaps he was mistaken and that Antonia was right. Worst of all was not knowing if Giovanna was also part of the deception.
There was a knock on the door. He went back into the room to let the bellboy in. A very thin young man handed him a sealed envelope. In return, he received a generous tip, which he quickly tucked into his pants pocket. After thanking the guest, he left down the hallway, whistling a strange tune.
As soon as he was alone, Gregory Evans carefully opened the envelope from the top. He extracted a folded sheet of paper. On it was a very explicit message:
If you've come this far, it's because you know the solution to the riddle, even though you're currently unable to recognize the true meaning of its power. If you wish to learn how far man can go, if you truly want to know the path that leads to Wisdom, or simply need to communicate with God, simply cross the street and enter the Archaeological Museum. There will be someone waiting for you. Listen to what they have to say. Open your heart to the feeling that will emanate from their words. Nothing you're thinking right now is correct. You're mistaken if you believe I'm using you. I don't expect to convince you. You're the one who must be sure you want to face the truth. Only you can climb the steps. You just need to have the will to do so, but above all, don't forget the importance of using the key to the lodge properly. It is your greatest treasure... and your protective shield.
Balkis...
He put the letter in the envelope, then left it on the chair by the window. He walked over to her. Outside, in front of the hotel, he could see the facade of the iconic building, where the most enigmatic and valuable relics of Ancient Egypt were kept. According to the message, someone was waiting for him inside. He wondered if it would be wise to go on a blind date with repeat offenders.
After a few seconds of reflection, he resignedly realized he had no choice. Undecided, he went to his suitcase to retrieve the sketch and notes, intending to place them in a safe place, along with the collection of pages that comprised The Mystery of the Cathedrals. If the killers' intention was to recover the information he had in his possession, making him go to the Archaeological Museum could well have been a trap to distract him and seize what he had recorded inside the crypt.
He left everything stored in the closet safe. It wasn't entirely safe, but he couldn't take the documents with him either.
As soon as he finished his task of hiding them, he went straight to the door, with the firm intention of meeting the stranger.