Nile Shadows (The Jerusalem Quartet Book 3)

by Edward Whittemore

  Joe pushed a pebble into the river.

  Nothing of course. Nothing reaching that sordid little place but the usual cries of the night, the usual meaningless cries to echo in Stern’s ears at the end. Just some yells and drunken shouts and bloody wogs and that’s it for Stern, and it’s as you say. No one knew that bar and no one had any idea who was in it, and no one gave an order and no one knew anything about anything. The whole thing just a case of the night coming around again…. Just the night, as Stern said.

  Ah well, I guess I had it figured that way, the hand grenade being chance, I mean. I just wanted to make sure I had it right. Stern always was one for knowing his particular patch of the desert, and after all these years of living in a certain way … Well I guess you learn to sense things, that’s all, and Stern sensed the when, and as for the where, well what can you say about that bar except that it was Stern’s kind of place? … A poor barren room with bare walls and a bare floor and all of it halfway to darkness, a desolate place and unkind, dreadfully so, but also the sort of place Stern understood. Knew that bare floor and those bare walls, he did, although they’d never been fit for living, as he said …. Barren, that’s what. Just bare as bare and a cracked grainy mirror for a view of the kingdom and a shabby curtain as the gates to the kingdom, a sordid unkind place. And shouts outside in the darkness and laughter and scuffling and a hand grenade sailing in from nowhere, the darkness coming to meet Stern at last in a roar of blinding light…. Light. Stern gone. Yes….

  Joe sighed.

  All right, so that’s the way it was then. But what if those Australian lads hadn’t staggered down that particular alley on their way to die in the desert? And what if they hadn’t been quite so drunk and so playful and hadn’t tossed a grenade at the bloody wogs for the fun of it? What then? Would there have been some other kind of accident for Stern before the night was out?

  Bletchley shook his head, his round eye blank and bulging, empty.

  No good, Joe, no good at all. That’s not a question and it doesn’t deserve an answer and you know it. There are no what ifs in this business, only what is and nothing else. What if is playing with things and you don’t do that, and I don’t, and Stern didn’t…. Or are you asking me whether I would have ordered Stern killed sometime, somewhere, if it had been necessary? Well the answer to that is anytime, anywhere. And I’d have you killed and I’d kill myself for the same reason, if it were necessary. I detest the Nazis and I’d do anything to see them defeated.

  Bletchley’s eye was huge, bulging, overwhelming in its nakedness.

  Do you hear me, Joe? Anything. I believe in life and the Nazis wear the death’s-head and they are death. So don’t play with things here. It’s not a game we’re in.

  Joe nodded.

  You’re right and I deserved that. The question was out of line. I’m sorry…. So that barren cave of a bar and a man named Stern and a stray grenade in the night aside, some things got out of hand during the last few days, I take it? A matter of somebody, Whatley say, pursuing his righteous course in the name of God and goodness? Is that why there were those other killings?

  There was a serious misunderstanding, said Bletchley. Mistakes were made but I’m in command at the Monastery, so the responsibility is mine. Nobody else’s.

  True enough, said Joe. It always does work that way when you’re in charge, and Stern could manage that and you can, but I never could. Well, there’s nothing more to say about that I guess, but do you think you could tell me what you did have in mind when you decided to get me over here?

  Of course, that’s easy enough. Some new information had turned up about Stern and it worried me.

  By new information, you mean some facts having to do with Stern’s Polish story?

  Yes.

  Can you tell me how that new information happened to turn up?

  Bletchley looked at him.

  No I can’t. And anyway, Joe, the man who came to Cairo to find out about Stern died in a fire in the Hotel Babylon, and his interest died with him.

  And so it did, said Joe. A fire decided it in the end…. And so this new information came your way and then what?

  And it worried me, said Bletchley. I knew Stern wasn’t well and I was afraid he was beginning to say things to those who were close to him. I didn’t know what might happen and I thought someone from the outside might be able to help, someone who had known Stern in another context, from the past. So I went through his file and your name turned up.

  Bletchley looked down at the river and a sad, empty expression came over his face.

  If I’d told you more in the beginning it might not have turned out the way it did. But that … well, that’s not how it was.

  How it was, murmured Joe. How it was….

  Joe squinted, gazing out over the river.

  Bletchley?

  Yes.

  Listen to me. Don’t take so much of this on yourself. You came into this in the middle of things, just like the rest of us. Like me, like Liffy, like David and Ahmad and everybody else. You didn’t start it and you did the best you could with what was in front of you, so let up on yourself a little….

  Joe paused.

  Anyway, he added, I know who told you Stern’s Polish story.

  Bletchley’s head jerked back and he raised his hands, stopping Joe almost pleading with him.

  No names, he whispered. For God’s sake, Joe, no names. We haven’t spoken of this.

  Joe nodded.

  No, we haven’t spoken of it and there’ll be no names. I’m merely referring to persons unknown and to their haunting elegy that’s half as old as time, an allusive recitation to the stars and a hymn as anonymous as the night. So no names, then, but I want you to know you’re not alone here, because I know who told you, and I know why they told you.

  Bletchley sat perfectly still, unable to look at Joe. Again Joe paused, looking out at the water. He spoke in a very quiet voice.

  Yes, they loved him, and they loved him too much to see him coming apart like that. They just couldn’t bear to see it happen because Stern was special for them. You could see it in his eyes, they said, and you could hear it in his laughter…. Hope, they said. For he was a man who stood by the river and saw great things, and his eyes shone at the splendor of the gift, like a hungry man brought to a great table. Precious, they said. Always to be so, they said.

  But then they saw him coming apart like the world itself, and he was too precious to them to be destroyed like that, too beautiful by far, so they took his burden from him and spoke to you…. We would do anything for him, they said to me. But there’s nothing we can do for him now but weep, and so we do that … for Stern our son.

  Joe felt Bletchley move beside him. He looked down and saw that Bletchley had taken something out of his pocket and was holding it in his good hand, slowly turning it over and over.

  That looks like an old Morse-code key, said Joe. Worn and smooth with a soft sheen to it, the way things get with a lot of handling…. Tell me, what happens to old Menelik’s crypt now?

  Nothing, said Bletchley. It will stay the way it is … locked. The way it was left.

  Good. That’s something at least.

  Slowly, Bletchley turned the worn Morse-code key over and over in his good hand.

  I also ought to mention, he said, that someone checked through your room before the fire. All that was found were some clothes and your small valise. The valise had a faded red wool hat in it and a khaki blanket from the Crimean War. Was there anything else?

  No, that was it, said Joe. They went the way of the fire, did they?

  Bletchley nodded. Joe shook his head.

  That must be Liffy’s Third Law, said Joe. I guess he didn’t have time to mention it. Only the things you care about go up in smoke.

  He took another drink from the flask and they both fell silent, gazing out at the river.

  What were you thinking about just now? asked Joe.

  The front. El Alamein.

 
Will it hold, the way you see it?

  I hope so. In any case it has to. The tide has to turn and it has to turn now or people will lose hope.

  Yes. And in the meantime, what will you be doing with that good-luck charm in your hand, do you think?

  I’ll carry it with me for a while, said Bletchley, and someday, if things work out that way, I’ll give it to someone.

  Who?

  Bletchley glanced at him and looked away.

  Did you know there was a child, Joe?

  Whose child? What do you mean?

  Eleni and Stern. Did you know they had a child?

  Joe was stunned.

  What? Is that true?

  Yes.

  Are you sure?

  Yes. Stern told me about her. She’s a young woman now.

  Joe whistled softly.

  But that’s just astonishing. Who is she? Where is she? Oh my God.

  She’s Greek, said Bletchley. She was born in Smyrna but later on she grew up in Crete. Eleni’s uncle, Sivi, had relatives in Crete. His father came from there, from a little village up in the mountains.

  I know that.

  Well that’s where she grew up when Eleni could no longer manage. Stern took her there as a child.

  Joe whistled very softly.

  That’s just astounding. What else do you know about her?

  Very little, that’s all really. It came up in an odd way about a year ago, just after Crete fell. Stern said he had an agent there who could do certain things by posing as a collaborator with the Germans. But I thought the agent, as he described her to me, was much too young to do what he had in mind. I didn’t think we could trust someone like that in such a sensitive role, and that’s when Stern told me she could be trusted because she was his daughter. I was as surprised as you are. Of course, she doesn’t carry his name. She uses the Greek name of Sivi’s relatives.

  That’s just amazing, said Joe.

  Something crossed his mind and he thought for a moment.

  Here now. Don’t I recall that it was from an agent posing as a collaborator that Stern found out how Colly died in Crete? That time Stern made a special trip there, after Colly was killed?

  Yes. She was the one.

  Joe smiled.

  What a wonder of a trickster Stern was, always another surprise yet to come. Do you realize I never even knew about Eleni until that last night we were together in the bar? And now it turns out there’s a child. Absolutely astonishing, that’s what. Does anybody else here know about her?

  I doubt it. In fact I’m quite sure no one does. It seemed to be one thing he wanted to keep very close to himself. He asked me never to tell anyone.

  Why? Did he say?

  Not directly, but it was obvious it had to do with his work. That and the fact that he didn’t want to endanger her in any way.

  Yet she could have left Crete before it fell, said Joe, or probably even after it did. Stern could have arranged that. Why didn’t he?

  I had the impression she didn’t want to leave.

  Oh.

  Joe shook his head.

  And despite all the things he told me that last night, he never even hinted at this. Why, I wonder? Why?

  For the same reasons he never told anyone else? Not even Maud?

  Yes, I suppose. Still, it does seem strange…. But don’t you know anything else about her?

  No, I truly don’t. He really wouldn’t say much of anything, other than who she was and where she was.

  Joe was silent for some moments. All at once he touched Bletchley’s arm, startling him.

  But Stern also asked you not to tell anyone about her. Why did you?

  Bletchley moved around where he was sitting. He seemed uncomfortable.

  Because you’re leaving. And since no one else knows but me, and since something could always happen out here, well, I felt …

  Bletchley’s voice trailed off. He glanced at his watch.

  The time’s getting on. We should be starting for the airport soon.

  In a moment, said Joe. I think there’s something we haven’t quite covered yet.

  That’s not so, I’ve told you what I can. There are certain matters …

  I know, but I wasn’t referring to certain matters. I mean something between you and me.

  It’s getting on, said Bletchley. We ought to …

  Bletchley moved as if to rise but Joe put his hand on Bletchley’s arm, stopping him.

  It’s just this. What was the real reason you picked my name out of Stern’s file?

  I told you. Because you’d known Stern well in the past, and because you cared for him, and because you seemed to have the experience and the temperament that were needed for the assignment.

  Yes. Go on.

  But that’s all.

  Joe smiled.

  No it’s not.

  It’s not?

  Joe shook his head, still smiling.

  No, of course it’s not. That’s what got put down on paper and that’s what London understood, but that’s not all of it.

  I’ve told you the truth, said Bletchley, his voice defiant.

  Yes, and you’ve always done that, and I appreciate it. It’s just that you’ve also left things out here and there, bits and pieces along the path. And we both know that’s the cleverest way to hide things, from others or from ourselves. But now that I am leaving, why don’t you go on for once and say those things to yourself? Not hide them anymore? … So then. You studied Stern’s file and chose me. Why? What’s the rest of it?

  Suddenly Bletchley pulled away from Joe, freeing his arm. He seemed both angry and hurt as he stared out at the river, an empty expression on his scarred face, his eye wide and bulging. When he spoke his voice was harsh with resentment.

  The rest of it? … I don’t know what you mean.

  Oh yes, said Joe softly, and what does it matter here and now between the two of us? And why does it ever matter anyway? I’m leaving and what’s more I’m disappearing, and I’ll never be able to talk about any of this … so then. Why not the rest of it?

  Bletchley looked confused, even frightened. His resentment was gone and his voice was little more than a whisper.

  Do you mean … Colly?

  Yes, said Joe …. Colly. I mean him.

  Bletchley gripped his bad hand again, covering it.

  Well I knew him. I knew him, of course. I’d worked with him.

  Much?

  No, not really. Just since the war started, before he was killed. And I didn’t know him well the way some of the others did, the Colonel at the Waterboys, say, Harry’s superior. He’d worked with Colly all through the thirties, so he knew him very well. But I wasn’t around here much then, I was mostly in India. So I never really saw that much of Colly, although I’d always known about him, by reputation.

  And admired him?

  Well naturally. Everybody admired him. He was such a talented man and he always seemed to do things with so much dash.

  And more than that, said Joe softly, you envied him, didn’t you?

  Bletchley glanced at Joe and looked back at the river, his eye round and empty, confused.

  I suppose I did, he said in a low voice.

  Joe strained forward.

  Because he seemed to be everything you never could be, wasn’t that it?

  In a way, perhaps. But I don’t see how any of this …

  Just everything, said Joe. A hero in the last war and a grand one, a hero who survived it intact and all of a piece, in his body and his mind, without a ripped-up face and a crippled hand and maybe crippled other things. Who was so famous as a young man he could afford to go and enlist in the Imperial Camel Corps as just plain Private Gulbenkian. Who was so sure of himself and who he was he never had to worry about ranks and titles and positions, or even about his own name, just imagine that. Who could even be an A. O. Gulbenkian on camelback, anonymous to all appearances, and still be famous wherever it counted because beyond and beneath it all, no matter what name he
used and what disguise he put on and no matter where he went, he would always be Our Colly.

  That’s right. Always. The Sergeant of the Empire, Our Colly of Champagne, a legend no matter what. You remember what they used to say about him when we were young. There was just no stopping Our Colly, not ever. He was a class apart and a man apart and they just don’t make them like that anymore, that’s what they used to say…. Our Colly? He was the man who defied the law of averages a hundred times and got away with it. No man could ever do what he did, but Our Colly did it all the same…. That’s what they used to say, wasn’t it?

  Yes, whispered Bletchley…. Oh yes.

  Sure. Oh yes is what it was, and I remember it and so do you. But did you ever know that way back then in the beginning, when the last war started, Colly tried to enlist first in the royal marines?

  No, I’ve never heard that, said Bletchley. Is that true?

  Yes, they wouldn’t take him. Undersized, Colly was, too scrawny altogether. So next he tried the navy and they wouldn’t have anything to do with him either. Not only undersized but his English was still pretty limited then. Yes. No. Thank you. Please pass the potatoes. A stunted childhood, you see. He’d always been handy in a fishing boat as a boy, but the cold winds had kept him low to the deck and they’d also kept him from putting on any weight. Cold winds can do that. The weight goes to keeping the wind out and keeping the body halfway warm. So after that, Colly went around to the army, and they weren’t about to be particular if a body was halfway warm, so they took him. One scrawny undersized kid who couldn’t speak very well. That was Colly and that was how it all began for him.

  I never knew that, said Bletchley.

  No, most people don’t. A hero’s a hero, after all, and we like to have them in troubled times. So Colly managed to get into the army by lying about his age and by drinking a couple of quarts of water before they weighed him in, and then he took a big piss and went to France and did what he did there, and pretty soon he was known as Our Colly, everybody’s, the man who could defy the law of averages and get away with it. And then later he went on to do the same kinds of things out here, on camelback, a mysterious Gulbenkian in disguise pulling off all sorts of wild tricks in Ethiopia and Palestine and Spain.