The Curse by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online

voice of reason left in her life, her friend Fuad.
    After she had tried to stab the Dupre woman, Fatima had gotten on a subway and rode aimlessly, finally thinking clearly enough to wait near the hotel where Mounir Kaseem was staying and follow him as he left.
    Arriving at the obelisk behind Kaseem, she missed her chance to talk to the woman and warn her about Kaseem. That the woman would have been terrified of her had not penetrated Fatima’s hazy thinking.
    You have to warn her, the voice in Fatima’s head said.
    At least that’s what her logical mind was telling her, what little she had left of it.
    Standing at a safe distance, Fatima couldn’t hear what was being said between the two of them, but the voices in her head wouldn’t shut off. They seemed to be getting worse instead of better. She wished they would stop.
    As she waited, never taking her eyes off Kaseem and the woman, Fatima mindlessly took out a bagel from her bag, removed the wrapping, and started chewing on it. She wasn’t really hungry but it gave her something to do as she focused on them.
    She never used to be frightened, but now everything appeared dark and dangerous to her. Dread and fear always consumed her mind now and try as she might she couldn’t shake off those feelings.
    Fatima kept wondering who was going to creep up behind her and finally put her out of her misery. She welcomed death; at least she would finally have some peace. From the constant voices in her head. From the constant paranoia she felt.
    Kaseem and the woman left the area and started walking toward Fifth Avenue to a line of taxis waiting for customers.
    The voices in her head urged her to follow them.
    She knew where they were going.
    Kaseem was staying at a hotel that was frequented by Egyptians and employed many Egyptians as staff. One of the clerks was her second cousin. Fatima convinced the girl to advise her of any requests that Kaseem made to the front desk.
    After learning of his reservation at the Russian Tea Room and sure that he planned to meet the woman she’d attacked earlier, Fatima had changed her clothes and wore a scarf so that she wouldn’t be instantly recognized.
    Now she waited until they had gotten into the taxi before she took the next one in line.

11
    â€œI enjoy the quiet elegance of the Tea Room,” Mounir Kaseem said after we were seated in a red booth at the West Fifty-seventh Street landmark. “I have fond memories of the times my wife and I enjoyed meals here years ago, before she passed away. Have you been here before?”
    â€œOh, many times. I enjoy the memories, too—not my own, but those that other people have left behind.”
    He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You experience other people’s memories?”
    â€œNot specifically, but I feel their aura. I believe people can pick up vibes from places and things. Sometimes when I handle an artifact I get a feeling that someone imbued it with strong emotions. Years ago in the Egyptian Museum I handled a necklace that had belonged to a queen who had died more than two thousand years ago. I nearly dropped it because I felt a vibration when I held it in my hands.”
    â€œPerhaps the queen was murdered wearing it.”
    â€œI like to think the necklace still possessed some of the strong love between the queen and the pharaoh who gave it to her.”
    I diverted the conversation away from my feelings about objects because I didn’t want him to think I was a crazy. We discussed the weather and traffic in the taxi ride to the restaurant, but not the attempt to stab me. He also hadn’t yet volunteered why he had contacted me and I fought to keep my impatience in check.
    â€œDr. Kaseem, are you a scholar? A doctor of medicine?”
    â€œI’m a professor of Egyptian history. And, I’m afraid, on sabbatical from my country. I also served in my country’s armed forces. My criticism of the Egyptian government has