The Khamsin Curse
Page 27
Major Nash, leaning limply against the guard rail, staring at a mid-heaven moon and sucking on a fine Havana, was trying hard not to think about his throbbing head.
“You took them to Jim’s camp,” she accused softly. “He will escort them to Khartoum where they will be out of reach of colonial justice. You didn’t want them to end up in an Egyptian prison.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She was only guessing he told himself as he took an exaggerated puff of his cigar and held his breath for one long moment – she’d draw down like a mouthful of warm smoke: sweet tang, hint of spice, exotic aftertaste.
“I saw you fumble for your fob watch that time Hayter was raving on about Egyptian prisons. You’re not a fumbler. You were rattled. You’ve experienced the inside of an Egyptian prison first hand. You knew Daisy and Ursula wouldn’t survive long.”
“I repeat. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He savoured the aromatic fantasy and wondered how long it would be before the Khamsin arrived.
Sighing, she turned her back on him, hesitated, walked a few paces, paused and looked back. “Just to be clear, I support what you did. If you happen to be passing my cabin on the way to your room, and you decide you are not too spent, you will find my door unlocked.”