by N E. David
“Really?”
Blake was genuinely surprised. He’d led such an independent life that he wasn’t used to the idea that he might have an effect on the emotions of others.
“Yes, he’s told me that. He says you’re the only one who’s taken the trouble to hear what he has to say. You seem to know more about these things anyway.”
Blake felt flattered for the second time in as many minutes. The comment sounded sincere, although something still didn’t sit right.
“I’m not certain…”
…that I’m the one that you want.
His hesitation only caused Lee Yong to intensify her pleading.
“Do it for my sake, Mr Blake. You know how much I want to go – and now it’s a chance for the both of us. This is a tremendous opportunity – and when opportunities are given to you, you have to take them. Don’t you agree? Or do you think I’m being foolish?”
“No, I don’t think you’re foolish at all.”
“You’ll speak to him then? Please?”
She’d turned herself round on the edge of the sofa so she was almost confronting him. The tears of the last two days had all but dried up but there was still a suggestion of strain. Her voice had a begging quality and her face such an imploring look – how could he possibly deny her? Like a stray sheep herded into a pen, he felt he’d been manoeuvred into a position from which he could not escape. She’d cornered him and it left him no alternative – was that how she managed her father, in exactly the same way?
“Very well…”
“Thank you, Mr Blake. I knew I could rely on you. You’ll do it soon though, won’t you?”
“Yes, yes. As soon as I can. In the morning.”
She might grant him one night’s peace, at least.
Now she’d extracted his promise, Lee Yong sought to excuse herself. She had to look after Reda and there were doubtless things to do for the following day.
Blake watched as she made her way across the foyer toward the stairway, her shoulder bag swinging to the rhythm of her Cuban heels. Yesterday he’d agreed to contact the local chief of police and offer him a bribe on her behalf – and then he’d been down to the station with her to ensure the deal was met. Today she’d persuaded him to talk Reda into going to America with her – a task which in his view was likely to be just as onerous. How had he managed to get so involved? He wasn’t the only one she’d drawn in – somehow she had beguiled them all, Mrs Biltmore, Ira, the others. If it hadn’t been for her…
The hint of a mischievous smile crossed his lips as he suddenly saw the funny side. All in all, it was an unlikely situation they found themselves in. Halfway up the Nile an Englishman, a Malaysian and an American were all looking after an Egyptian – it sounded like the opening line of a particularly bad joke.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Blake rolled over, turned to face the net-curtained window then pulled the covers over his head and buried himself deep beneath his bedclothes. Not for the first time he found the darkness especially comforting. It was his first conscious act of the day and served a number of vital purposes.
Firstly, it relieved him of the need to stare vacantly at his tripod and telescope, both of which had lain unused against the wall by the doorway since his early morning excursion to watch Spoonbills the day before. With the exception of his boat trip in Aswan, they reminded him of how futile his birding trip had become. Secondly – and more importantly – it enabled him to shut out the rest of the world and in particular, his ill-considered promise of the night before to go and speak to Reda. Ever since he’d committed himself to doing it, he’d been consumed with regret and to put it bluntly, he was dreading it.
Lee Yong’s request had placed him in an awkward position and he was unsure of what to do. On the one hand, he genuinely wanted to help her. He could feel his heart urging him forward on her behalf and he told himself that he must seek Reda out at the earliest opportunity and speak to him to put the case in her favour. Like the advice given to the pioneers in America, Go west, young man! he would tell him. Go west, young man, and grow up with the country! For God’s sake go! While you still have the chance… It was what he’d failed to do himself and sometime in the early hours of the morning he’d come to the conclusion that Lee Yong was right – opportunities such as this were few and far between and when offered, they should be taken.
There was nothing that would give him greater pleasure at that moment than to see the two of them fly off together. Like migrating swallows bound for a distant land, after a long and perilous journey they might settle down and find a spot where they could build a nest. Later, they would return with young ones…It was a profoundly foolish thought, but somewhere deep within him an unrequited romantic was at work.
On the other hand, every logical consideration he could think of spoke against it. His abiding principle not to interfere with nature carried over into his human relationships – it was none of his business what other people did and he must not get involved. Reda and Lee Yong should be left to work things out for themselves and what would be, would be. He’d overstepped the mark at least twice before – firstly at the Egyptian Evening (although he’d somehow got away with it), and then his trip along the riverbank had been a terrible mistake and he rued the moment he’d ever thought of setting out on it. Far better to retreat now before he got drawn in too deep.
It was not just his principles that held him back – the mere idea of ‘talking’ to Reda at all made him distinctly uneasy. He was not in the habit of lecturing young men and telling them what to do and for him it was an altogether unnatural experience. He likened it to that dreaded moment when a father is obliged to take his son to one side and tell him about the birds and the bees. There would be an embarrassed clearing of the throat, then, There’s something we need to discuss… Why couldn’t they find these things out for themselves?
He began to formulate a compromise. Instead of tackling things head-on, what if he were to casually drop the subject into an existing conversation? If the opportunity presented itself, then it might not appear so deliberate. Curled up beneath the covers, he started to practise the words in his mind. So, do you and Lee Yong have any plans? What are you going to do when this is all over? It sounded an innocent enough question. If he could just find the right moment…
His train of thought was interrupted by a loud and yet naggingly familiar noise. From somewhere in the vicinity, the quiet peace of the morning was being shattered by the amplified voice of a loud-hailer. The shock of it caused him to sit bolt upright in the bed, and he immediately threw off the covers and went to the window where he drew back the net curtains and started to look for clues.
As he’d suspected, the gentle sensation of forward motion that had been present the previous day had stopped and the ship had come to a halt. They’d moored up some time during the night and instead of looking out across the river as he’d done at Aswan, his cabin now faced the town. On the other side of the Corniche, framed by the rising sun, was the familiar skyline of Luxor. The clock on his bedside table showed six-thirty-five. A little late for the call to morning prayers, and he could not recall hearing them when they’d been here some six days before. And besides, this was not the rallying cry of an Imam – it was the barked instruction of someone in command.
A horrible thought occurred and he hurriedly pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and stuck his feet into the first available pair of footwear he could find. Grabbing his fleece from its hook on the back of the door he ran down the corridor, up the stairs and out onto the sun-deck.
He was not the first to arrive – half the passenger list had already gathered on the port-side rail to investigate. A few had managed to get dressed but most were still in their nightclothes. The tall and craggy figure of Keith was easy to pick out and despite his pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, he still gave off his usual air of authority.
“What’s going on?” Blake called across.
“Damned if I know,”
said Keith. “But it looks as though the police are paying us a visit. Come and see for yourself.”
He went over to join him.
They had indeed reached Luxor, but they were moored much closer to the town centre than they’d been before and the tour buses were now stationed in a row along the main road. Closer to hand, a line of three white cars was drawn up on the quayside. Blake instantly recognised them. Behind them, a large blue truck was already disgorging a line of armed police out onto the tarmac. At the top of the steps leading down to the ship’s gangplank, Mr Mohammed, the ship’s captain, had adopted a pleading posture and was attempting to bar the way. More ominously, standing next to him was the unmistakable figure of Aswan’s chief of police. Megaphone in hand, Hossein Rasheed was busily directing affairs.
Blake’s hands tightened their grip on the ship’s rail. The presence of the fat policeman meant only one thing – they were searching for Reda. A mixture of guilt and fear swirled around his stomach. After all the effort they’d made to secure the young Egyptian’s safety, they were about to be undone. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Why hadn’t he thought? And yet, of course he had. I know these people – they’ll come looking. More to the point, why hadn’t he done something about it? He’d told himself he needed a plan – and last night he’d meant to concoct one but Lee Yong’s request had distracted him. He had to think quickly – although on board ship, sat out on the Nile, there were limited options available.
It was too late to debate the issue now – his first priority was to warn Lee Yong. With a quiet You’ll have to excuse me and making every effort not to appear panicked, he quickly slipped away and went below.
As soon as he was out of sight he took the stairs two at a time and ran. The lower decks were crowded with people still making their way up. He tried his best to barge through but arrived too late and as he entered Lee Yong’s corridor from one end, a group of blue-clothed police headed by Hossein Rasheed entered it from the other. Working their way towards him, they began knocking on doors.
Blake stood paralysed at the foot of the stairway, not knowing what to do. At any moment they would reach Lee Yong’s cabin. If he made a move to warn her they would only become suspicious – he dared not risk it. The alternative was to stand in their way and try to halt their progress while Reda made his escape. But he was hardly strong enough for that and it would only be a matter of time.
Outside Lee Yong’s door, a young officer stood poised with a sledgehammer, ready to force an entry.
“Police! Open up!” he called out in Arabic.
She would not understand the words, but the meaning was abundantly clear.
The door cracked open and Lee Yong’s face appeared. She looked as pale and as serious as she’d done at any time in the last few days. In the corridor outside, Rasheed recognised her at once and nodded vigorously, urging his men forward.
“Yes, yes. In here, this is the one we want, go on.”
Pushing Lee Yong’s slight frame to one side, they forced their way into the room.
Blake rushed in behind, followed by the fat policeman.
For a few hectic moments it was a confused and crowded scene. While one stood guard at the doorway, two other officers scoured the room from top to bottom – the en suite, the wardrobe, under the bed, anywhere a man might be concealed. Lee Yong had retreated before them and stood calmly by the window as she’d done the day before, her arms clasped about herself as if trying to ward off cold – or more likely, the lurking presence of Rasheed. With his hands held firmly behind his back, Aswan’s chief of police thrust out his great belly and watched keenly from the far wall, waiting for results.
Blake caught Lee Yong’s eye. He saw her give a tiny shake of her head, although whether this was supposed to mean The game’s up, we’re lost or He’s not here, he wasn’t sure. Either way, she chose to stay put by the window while presiding over the chair in which Reda had sat so recently that Blake was sure he could still make out the young man’s impression. On the dressing table, the computer had gone along with the mobile phone and the wallet, although the envelope stuffed with cash he’d left the previous day remained hidden amongst the row of bottles. He thought to look at the bed and was horrified to see that although it had clearly been slept in and the covers hastily pulled up, there were still dents in each of the two pillows. But even if he’d noticed it, the policemen obviously had not and soon reported back.
“It’s clear.”
Over by the far wall, Rasheed scowled and waved them out of the room. He began to pace up and down in the space beside the bed, occasionally looking up at Blake and Lee Yong with an agitated frown.
“So! What have you done with him?” he demanded at last.
“What have we done with who?” said Blake. It was the obvious reply, but under the circumstances it sounded rather crass.
Rasheed stopped his pacing and turned to face them. His scowl had reappeared.
“Don’t play games with me, Mr Blake. You know precisely who I mean.”
“If you’re talking about Reda Eldasouky,” said Blake, “I can honestly tell you, I have no idea where he is. He’s obviously not here,” he waved his hand around the empty room, “and you’re quite welcome to look in my cabin if you wish. I have nothing to hide.”
“A fine gesture – but pointless,” said Rasheed. “Your cabin is being searched even as we speak.”
Blake shrugged – it made no difference.
The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard in the corridor as the three officers returned.
“Anything?” Rasheed called out, cocking his head to one side.
“No, Chief, nothing…”
Blake was tempted to smirk. It seemed that he’d worried for no real reason.
“So what are you going to do now? You surely can’t search the whole ship?”
“I wouldn’t waste my time trying – there are far too many places for a man to hide. I have other, much more effective ways of finding what I want. Someone knows where he is – and before too long, someone will tell me.”
“Oh really? So who do plan to torture next?”
Rasheed’s failure had boosted Blake’s confidence.
The policeman’s piggy eyes narrowed.
“Just be thankful, Mr Blake, that you’re not an Egyptian…” His scowl changed to a look of genuine annoyance. “I suppose you think you’re both very clever. You’ve managed to hide him from me this time, but I will find him, make no mistake about that.” His flabby jowls wobbled disconcertingly when he spoke. “It seems I should not have let him go. He’s wanted urgently in Cairo and there’s a price on his head. The big boss wants to talk to him, so don’t imagine for one moment he’ll escape us, because he won’t – we’re looking out for him everywhere. As for you British,” he said, turning directly to Blake. “If you think you can come here and meddle in our affairs, you’re mistaken. You can tell your friends at the British Embassy that when we catch this man the world will know it was you and your American allies who kept him hidden from us. You will regret this or my name is not Hossein Rasheed.”
While he’d been talking, Blake had kept his eyes on Lee Yong. She’d remained rooted to the spot and seemed reluctant to move away from the window which he could see had been opened. The net curtains were drawn to one side and behind them, a small handrail protected the twenty-foot drop into the Nile. For an agile young man it would present little difficulty, but Reda was bulky and suffering from a sprained ankle. Even so, it was not impossible to think he’d gone over the side. The ancient river held many secrets – here perhaps was another.
Rasheed was quick to catch the subject of Blake’s attention and immediately came to the same conclusion. He walked swiftly across to the window and shoving Lee Yong aside, looked out onto the Nile.
“Here!” He shouted to his troops and pointed. “This is where he’s gone – look how the bitch covers up for him. Get back to the quayside and scour the riverbank. There’s a reward for the man who fi
nds him!”
There was a triumphal note in his voice. He gave a leer in their direction, then turned on his heel and stalked out into the corridor where his rasping voice could be heard echoing down the stairs.
“Move! Move! Come on you lazy dogs, there’s work to do. Move!”
Suddenly the room was empty save for Blake and Lee Yong. In front of the net-curtained window, she drew her arms ever tighter about herself and shuddered.
“Ugh! That man…He gives me – what do you English call it? – the crepes?”
“I think you mean the creeps.”
“Whatever…”
Blake studied her face. She seemed calm, and if what he had just witnessed was the worst of her reaction, then she’d clearly survived the ordeal quite well. He’d half expected her to burst into tears and collapse under the pressure.
“That must have been a close call. So where…?”
“Not now.” She cut him off. “Let’s wait until we’re sure they’ve gone – you never know who might be listening. Anyway, I need to use the bathroom.”
She disappeared into the en suite and left him to speculate.
There was one thing Blake could be certain of – Reda was no longer in the room. The police had been thorough and Lee Yong had shown no trace of anxiety. But neither had he gone out of the window…
Later, when Lee Yong told him where Reda really was, he found he couldn’t help laughing. Rasheed had been right about their ‘American allies’ and there was yet more for which to thank Mrs Biltmore. Her cabin was a few doors down on the opposite side of the corridor and her quick-witted reaction on hearing the loud-hailer was to be commended. Reda’s relocation had been timely, if a little awkward.
And as for his ‘friends at the British Embassy’, Carpenter would have been flattered.
Blake returned to his cabin to find it had indeed been broken into. The lock had been forced and it was this, rather than the intrusion itself, which annoyed him. Could they not have demanded a key from reception or a spare from the purser instead of causing unnecessary damage? If they’d asked him in person, he’d have been happy to let them in.
