‘Right,’ said John. ‘Who’s in charge here, anyhow?’
‘I’m not winding my way through a maze of back streets, either,’ Feisal declared. ‘The sooner we get out of Luxor the happier I’ll be.’
John sighed. ‘That was certainly one of the most futile questions I have ever asked. Vicky, there’s no use looking for Schmidt at the station. I – er – I haven’t been entirely candid with you.’
‘No!’ I exclaimed. ‘You, not entirely candid? I can’t believe it. What little teeny tiny unimportant detail did you omit? Don’t tell me, let me guess. There is no night train to Memphis, right?’
‘There is no bloody train to Memphis, stop, end of sentence!’ He caught himself in mid-shout and in the silence that followed I could hear every shaken breath. ‘I told you that,’ he went on, a few decibels lower. ‘What I neglected to mention, for a number of reasons, all excellent, is that there are several night trains to Cairo. Would you care to hear my ideas as to which one Schmidt is most likely to have chosen, or would you rather continue this unproductive exchange of insults?’
‘I hate it when you talk like that,’ I muttered. ‘Go on.’
‘Egyptian trains,’ said John, in an even more maddening drawl, and with even more infuriating precision, ‘are of several types. Wagon Lits runs two overnight expresses, with sleeping cars, between Luxor and Cairo. They start at Aswan, in fact, but that doesn’t concern us. One leaves Luxor at seven-thirty and the other at ten-thirty. Both times, I hardly need add, are approximate.’
‘You hardly need. How do you know the times?’
‘I believe I mentioned earlier that strict attention to schedules is essential for one who wishes to succeed in my profession. That rule applies particularly to transportation. Really,’ John mused, ‘one day I must write a little handbook. Rule number one: As soon as you arrive in a place, find out how to depart in a hurry.’
‘Don’t do that, John,’ I said very gently.
‘Then leave off distracting me. As I was saying: Most well-to-do tourists who travel by rail take those trains. And that, my dear, is a very good reason why Schmidt, if I read his character aright, wouldn’t have taken either. They have a further disadvantage in that they do not stop between Luxor and Giza, just outside Cairo. Once you’re on that train you can’t get off it for ten or eleven hours. If I were worried about possible pursuit, I’d prefer more flexibility.’
‘Makes sense,’ I admitted. ‘So what’s the alternative?’
‘I’m so glad you asked. The other night trains make several stops, but only one of them offers first-class travel. First class is fairly comfortable, even by your effete American standards. Second and third class are not, and even if Schmidt were prepared to endure the crowding and the heat, he wouldn’t stand a chance of passing as a student or an Egyptian.’
‘So – ’
‘So, I think he intends to take the eleven p.m. train. It stops at Sohag, Asyut, and Minya. If he wants to confuse his trail he’ll buy a ticket through to Cairo and get off at one of the above.’
‘Is that the last train?’
‘There are others, after midnight. We have to assume he meant not only “night,” but “tonight.” The note had today’s date.’
‘It’s clever, but awfully tenuous,’ I said.
We had left the city centre behind and the only light came from the headlights of approaching vehicles. John had withdrawn into the opposite corner. He didn’t respond to my comment, but I could still hear him breathing and I didn’t like what I heard.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘Perfectly.’
‘Maybe you should take another of those – ’
‘I just did.’ He hesitated for a moment and then said, ‘If I should happen to fall asleep, wake me before we reach Nag Hammadi. We may have to reconsider our strategy at that point.’
‘What strategy?’ I demanded. ‘If you have some plan in mind I wish you’d let me in on it. Are we going to try to intercept Schmidt at one of the places you mentioned, or do you intend to drive straight through to Cairo, assuming this decrepit hunk of metal can make it that far, or – ’
Feisal interrupted me with a vehement comment in Arabic.
‘What did you say?’ I leaned forward.
‘I’d rather not translate literally. There are corresponding proverbs in English, referring to domineering women.’
I heard a muffled laugh from John. ‘Now, kiddies, don’t be rude. The main north-south highway and the railroad tracks cross the river at Hammadi. If they are going to set up a roadblock, that’s the obvious place. We’ll have to reconnoitre before we try the bridge. There’s nothing we can do about it until we get there, so stop quarrelling and let me get some sleep.’
I couldn’t think of a response that wasn’t rude, childish, or irrelevant, so I didn’t say anything.
John was out before we’d gone another mile, so far under that he only muttered sleepily when I put my arms around his shoulders and drew him down so that he was lying across the seat with his head on my lap. Feisal had his foot down as far as it would go. The car shook alarmingly but the engine was surprisingly quiet.
There was a good deal of traffic. Egyptian drivers have a demoralizing habit of switching on their bright lights instead of dimming them as they approach another car. I tried not to cringe every time this happened, but I didn’t succeed. Each approaching vehicle cast a brief, garish glow into the interior of the car. It might have been a delicately sculpted skull I held in the curve of one arm, the eye sockets dark hollows, the skin clinging tightly to the bones of cheek and temple. There was no softness of underlying flesh, except for the parted lips.
‘Is he asleep?’ Feisal’s voice was barely audible.
I applied a gentle pinch to John’s arm. He didn’t respond, not even with a mutter of complaint. Not that that proved anything. Feigning sleep or unconsciousness was one of his favourite tricks. ‘They usually stop hitting you when they think you can’t feel it,’ he had once solemnly explained, during one of his lectures on crime.
‘I think so.’ I raised one hand and brushed at my cheek.
‘I’m sorry I was rude. But you are being a little hard on him, aren’t you?’
‘He hasn’t been exactly easy on me.’
‘Easy on you?’ Feisal’s voice rose. ‘He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. He had no intention of going through with this business. He tried to talk me out of it. If you hadn’t turned up out of the blue – ’
‘Just a minute,’ I said. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you implying . . .’
He did more than imply. He told me, brutally and directly. Feisal didn’t like me very much just then. That made two of us.
‘This particular project began over three years ago. Johnny had pulled off a few jobs for Blenkiron earlier, but this one was a lot more complicated, so Blenkiron hired the group represented by the man who calls himself Max. After the tomb restoration was completed and Max had served his time, Blenkiron contacted Johnny. Johnny said no, he wanted out. They’d have let him get away with it, I think, since he couldn’t blow the whistle on them without accusing himself, if somebody hadn’t come up with the bright idea of having him rob the museum at the same time Blenkiron was loading his prizes onto a plane in Cairo. Whether he succeeded or failed, the attempt would have served as a useful distraction.’
‘Very useful,’ I muttered. ‘Whose bright idea was it?’
‘Can’t you guess? Max is a businessman, he hasn’t time for useless emotions like revenge – and that was what motivated the person who suggested the museum stunt. It sounded clever but there were a number of practical disadvantages, most particularly the difficulty of forcing a tricky devil like Johnny to go through with a job he doesn’t want to do. Max was well aware of that and would have been more than happy to see Johnny out of it. Unfortunately, his group resembles certain other illegal organizations in that it is family-oriented, and the sole surviving member of this particu
lar family is . . . You’ve seen what she’s like. How easy do you suppose it was for Johnny, cooped up with that maniac day after day and night after night, listening to her obscene threats and knowing that if he laid a finger on her she’d retaliate on you?’
It was like hearing the other side of a long, hostile divorce case. Events that seem clear-cut and obvious from one person’s point of view take on an entirely different aspect when you hear the other guy’s version.
‘They got you onto that cruise,’ Feisal went on. ‘Some kind of faked message planted on the body of a dead operative – I never knew the details. Johnny had cut off communication with you as soon as he realized what he’d got himself into. Jen was already at risk simply because they knew who she was and where she was; if he hadn’t agreed to bring her along on the cruise as an unwitting hostage, they would have kidnapped her, or worse. He planned to get Jen away at some point during the cruise. Once she was safe, he could take care of himself. It never occurred to him that they’d bother with another hostage. I wonder if you can imagine how he felt that day at Giza when he saw you?’
I could imagine. I had seen his face.
He’d managed to get Jen out of their hands next day, improvising as only John could. And then Schmidt had turned up, and there were still two hostages. I remembered the consternation in his voice when he saw Schmidt at Amarna – and Mary’s smile. Of course she had known who Schmidt was. She had probably memorized every detail of my biography, especially the episode in which her brothers had been involved.
‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ I demanded.
‘They made sure he never had a chance to tell you. Both of you were under surveillance every minute of the day and night. As a lovesick young bride she had a perfect excuse to stick closer to him than a cocklebur, and when she wasn’t with him, Blenkiron or one of the others was with you.’
The words stung like a snakebite, doubly painful because I felt I ought to have suspected some of it, at least. And there was worse to come I knew what Feisal was going to say before he said it.
‘That wasn’t the main reason. I was present when they explained to him, in painstaking detail, precisely what they would do to you if you learned the truth, from him or in any other way.’
‘Okay, I get it,’ I said hoarsely. ‘You don’t have to – ’
‘I’m going to anyway. You realize, don’t you, that while the boat was on the river they had you completely isolated and in their power? The purported changes in schedule were nothing of the sort; they were known in advance to all of us except Johnny. They kept him off balance, made it impossible for him to make arrangements for his escape or yours. Blenkiron controlled the boat, the crew, and half the able-bodied passengers. And the doctor. The moment you became aware, or even suspicious, he’d have had you pumped full of drugs and locked in your cabin with a quarantine sign on the door. And there you would have stayed, inaccessible and helpless, until . . .’
‘They tossed me overboard,’ I muttered. ‘Or would it have been something more – more inventive?’
‘Much more inventive.’ Feisal’s voice had softened a little, but he wasn’t ready to let me off the hook yet. ‘And prolonged. They were prepared to deal with Schmidt in the same way if he became a nuisance. People are always falling ill, it wouldn’t have raised questions if both of you had succumbed to some esoteric and ultimately fatal disease. Your only chance of survival depended on your remaining unwitting, and that meant your suspicions and your hostility had to be focused on Johnny. They promised him that if he’d cooperate you would be allowed to leave the cruise at Luxor with the other passengers.’
‘He believed that?’
‘Of course he didn’t. He’s been moving heaven and earth to get you to a safe place without betraying information that would endanger you even more, and he’s had to fight you as well as Blenkiron in the process.’
Cursing under his breath, he swerved – to avoid some obstacle in the road, I assumed – and the car jolted along the shoulder for a few yards before he got it back on the paved surface. I steadied John’s head with my other hand. ‘How far are we from Hammadi?’ I asked.
‘Another thirty or forty kilometres. Are you trying to change the subject?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were full of questions a while ago. Here’s your chance to get some of the answers you’ll never get from him.’
I didn’t say anything. The events of the past week were unrolling in my memory like a foreign film I hadn’t understood the first time I saw it. The captions Feisal had supplied cast a different light on every scene.
He had put on a pretty good act in public, but I might have noticed he never used a term of endearment or touched her if he could avoid doing so. In private . . . Knowing Mary as I now did, I felt sure she had enjoyed goading him into dangerous and ultimately futile outbursts of anger. The bruises on her arms were a graphic demonstration of at least one occasion on which she had succeeded, and she had retaliated, promptly and effectively. If Schmidt’s loud concern about my phobia hadn’t alerted her, my own behaviour would have done so.
That incident had been a joint project – Larry getting me down into the tomb, Mary or one of the others bollixing the lights. John must have suspected something was going to happen, but he had been helpless to prevent it. All he could do was get to me as quickly as possible.
That wasn’t the only time he’d managed to find an excuse to be around when he feared I might be in trouble. Seeing Schroeder-Max at the rest house had aroused his suspicions; he had invited himself along on that stroll from the Valley to Deir el Bahri because he was afraid to leave me and Schmidt alone with Larry and Ed. And he had prevented Mary from accompanying us, not only because she was an additional threat to me, but because . . . Because getting away from her, by any means and for any length of time, would have been like a breath of clean air to a man trapped in a sewer.
But the memory that would haunt me longest was the one of that night he had followed me out on deck while Schmidt was dancing with Mary. By that time he must have been half-crazy with worry and frustration and disgust, and the necessity of hiding those emotions. No wonder he’d lost control of himself. But only for a few moments. Realizing we were being observed, he had deliberately provoked me into a demonstration that would prove we were still at odds, and that would get me off the deck, back into the comparative safety of my room.
There had been time, that night and on a few other occasions, for a brief private exchange. ‘Oh, by the by, Vicky, I’m not really married to that little bitch, this is a setup and you are in desperate danger, so when I give you the signal just trot off and go into hiding and stay there. And take Schmidt with you.’
Of course I’d have obeyed, without question or argument. As would Schmidt.
Right.
Feisal slowed and pulled off the road. He turned, his arm over the back of the seat.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Nothing’s wrong. I hope. We’ll be approaching the bridge shortly, and I don’t want to wake him yet. I don’t suppose he’s had a decent night’s sleep since – ’
‘Stop it, Feisal.’
‘There’s just one little point I want to emphasize. When he agreed to Blenkiron’s proposal, his own survival wasn’t part of the deal. It wasn’t even mentioned. He was bargaining for your life, not his, and he was willing to let you go on thinking the worst of him if that would help to ensure your safety. I don’t entirely blame you for doubting him, but if I understand the hints I’ve heard from various people he’s put his neck in a noose for you before. Didn’t it oocur to you, even once, to give him the benefit of the doubt?’
Feisal’s tactics had been as effective as a battering ram. The walls were down, and I was flat on my face in the rubble. I had a feeling that if I ever managed to hold my head up again I’d see something that would make that devastating experience worthwhile, but all I could think of at the moment was how much I hated Feisal. When you are crawling on
your belly like a snake you like to have another snake along for company.
‘So what have you done for your old schoolmate lately?’ I demanded. ‘You’d still be cooperating with Blenkiron if Jean-Louis’s murder hadn’t cast some doubts on your own survival. The poor devil didn’t tell me a damn thing; they killed him solely as a precaution, the way you’d get rid of a wasps’ nest on your porch.’
‘Johnny was quick to point that out,’ Feisal said wryly. ‘And I admit it wasn’t until then that I agreed to get you to a safe place. There was no way he could do it himself, they were watching him like a pack of vultures, and he was getting desperate. I don’t claim to be any nobler than the next man, Vicky. Johnny did talk me into supplying you with a weapon some days ago. Hamid was one of us, I had no difficulty in getting at his keys. However – ’
‘However,’ said a remote voice, ‘you are going to be in great difficulty if you don’t get moving again. What did you stop for?’
Feisal slammed the car into gear and pulled onto the road. ‘I thought you needed – ’
‘I could do with something to drink. And an end to idle gossip about things that are none of your damned business.’
‘How much did you hear?’ I demanded, grateful for the darkness that hid my face.
‘Quite a lot,’ John said.
‘Are you lying?’
‘I always do, don’t I?’
I was in no condition to pursue the subject. ‘If you’ll remove yourself from my lap I’ll get you a drink.’
‘Country matters, lady?’ I might have known he couldn’t resist that reference. A truck thundered towards us, the bright light and contrasting shadow giving his upturned face and tumbled hair the look of a cheerful scarecrow, but I was too familiar with the cadences of his voice to miss the signs. He sat up, yawning. I heard the rustle of cloth and a faint click. Time for two of those little yellow pills? How many more could he take before he started climbing the walls?
I bent over and rummaged in the basket Granny had packed. She must have emptied her larder. There was enough food for a dozen people – bread, boiled eggs, fruit, a six-pack of soda. I opened one of the cans and handed it to John.
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