<<  -- 5 --  Elica Lupus-Popescu    MYSTIC CHANTING

A much louder sound startled us. 'Rachel????' She looked at me. I at her. The door began slowly to open wider. Our eyes followed suit. Curiosity gave way to blind terror. 'Let's go!!!!'

We ran down the steps, an inquisitive black cat ahead of us, quicker than we thought possible, into the arms of Simon, waiting for us at the outside doorway. The others, by this time, were getting restless ... George had whomped Timmy about the head three or four times whilst waiting. Dick and Julian, gulping down their ginger beer and munching egg sandwiches just outside Dracula's birthplace, were eyeing a suspicious Taliban fighter on the other side of the square. 'Mummy, it's a nice cat!!!' 'Rachel?????? Come on!!!!!'

Then, almost as suddenly as our arrival, we were all leaving -- the whole team -- swiftly, silently, professionally, under cover of darkness, Rachel, the infamous infant passport-less Anglo-American suicide bomber firmly in command. At the rear, following classics expert Roderic, Egyptologist Robert and the expedition's composer, Patric, came Keith, laptop on his shoulder, pushing Basil in his wheelchair, and finally, the wolf, snapping at everyone and staring at them with greedy eyes. In minutes we reached the support vehicles, sandwiches intact, and everyone let out a huge, spontaneous cry of 'Hoorah!!!!!!'

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