Smoke and Mirrors (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 3)

by Oliver Tidy

  ***

  56

  He wound the throttle and the bike leapt forward. Its size, weight and engine were suited to the close confinement of the narrow streets. It was light and it handled well. They swerved around vehicles and dodged in and out of pedestrians. The bike had no wing-mirrors and he could not risk taking his eyes from the road to see if they were being pursued. But then he believed he didn’t need to. The men’s car had been facing in his direction; it would not need to be manoeuvred around. It would take them seconds to get into it, get it started and begin their pursuit. And they would probably know the area.

  He rode quickly and straight to put some immediate distance between them and their pursuers before turning right into a thin channel between buildings. Overflowing bins and discarded furniture created minor obstacles to negotiate. A pedestrian jumped backwards into a doorway and Acer caught a raised voice of a rebuke.

  They burst out of the other end into bright sunshine and traffic. A braking car produced a shriek of rubber. The angry blast of a horn followed it. People turned to look. Acer went right again, then left. The road was more open, the surface a patchwork of shade and light. He was able to get up a good speed. He chanced a look over his shoulder. Nothing.

  He turned right again into a street lined with shops, opened the throttle and the engine coughed. He released the tension, wound it again and it spluttered and then it died. They rolled to a stop. Acer rocked the bike from side to side listening for the noise of fuel sloshing around in the tank.

  He lifted Zoe off, dismounted and said, ‘Follow me.’

  He pushed the bike to a nearby alley and then along it. It was quiet and cool. Around a curve he leaned it against a wall and patted the tank affectionately. He felt the heat from the engine on his legs as the metalwork ticked as it cooled. Zoe was watching him. He smiled at her.

  ‘It did the job. Saved our bacon.’

  She did not speak but she looked at the little machine with something approaching interest.

  Acer reached for her hand and she gave it. They walked on along the alley towards the bright sunlight at the far end without the first idea of where they were or what they were going to do.

  As well as their immediate future, Acer had other worries to occupy his thoughts.

  He thought of how rich he’d been just a couple of hours before and wished he’d kept a couple of the large denomination dollar bills back instead of handing them all over to the youth at the boat. They might have been able to get a taxi back. As it was, he could see no way to get back to the boat he’d left on the shore. And even if he could get them back, it was likely that the boats would no longer be there. Then they’d be stuck and exposed.

  He had no watch but guessed it was early afternoon. Arcadia was not due to leave until the following morning. He doubted that Wallace would be able to delay another day. They were not his or his masters’ responsibility. What would Dominique be moved to do? Would she stay with the boat? Would she insist on being set ashore, to wait until word of her daughter was found? Could she be persuaded to stay where Acer would know where to find her?

  The phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and two, one hundred dollar bills fluttered to the ground – the money that had been in his hand when he’d realised Zoe was missing. He picked them up and looked at the phone’s display – no name, just a number. It rang twice more and he answered it – fingers crossed.

  ***

  57

  ‘Acer?’

  ‘David?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘You found the boy then?’

  ‘Yes. We followed you to shore. He told us what happened. He said you had his phone.’

  Acer couldn’t keep the broad smile from his face. It had been a gamble that the boy would still be there when people from the ship arrived. He noticed Zoe looking at him and he gave her a thumbs up.

  ‘What is your situation?’ said David.

  ‘I’ve got Zoe back. She’s fine. Unhurt. We’re in the city. I have no idea where. There are men looking for us. Tell Wallace there’s been trouble. He’ll know what I mean.’

  ‘Are you able to get back to here?’

  ‘I don’t know whether we should risk it. The people looking for us will be expecting that.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’ll explain later. Do you have the police with you?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Go back to the ship. If they’ve been called, tell the authorities it was a false alarm. The girl never left the boat. It was all a mistake. Tell Wallace to leave with the convoy in the morning. We’ll meet you along the way.’

  ‘But why not go to the police?’

  ‘Because I don’t know who I can trust and I don’t want the attention.’

  ‘Right. Is there anything else? Anything we can do?’

  ‘Yes. Tell the kid his bike was brilliant. I’ll be in touch. And tell Mrs Hammond Zoe is safe with me.’

  Acer terminated the call and checked the battery’s life – three bars out of five or six. He left it on.

  ‘You heard me, Zoe: we’re going back to the ship. Just not yet.’ He reached for her hand again. ‘First things first,’ he said, waving the money, ‘let’s go and find some water.’

  ***

  58

  They moved out of the alley and back into the bright glare of the day. The buildings, the road surface, the people and the traffic combined to heat up the breathless spaces between them. They found a small market shop. It was dark and cool inside. A single fan turned slowly from the ceiling above the man behind the counter. He paid them more than a casual interest and this told Acer two things: they stuck out as foreigners, and he didn’t get many tourists in his shop.

  Acer got two big bottles of refrigerated water, a round loaf of bread, a bag of crisps and two apples. He thought about buying chocolate bars but realised they wouldn’t hold their shape five minutes on the street.

  At the counter the man tallied the purchases and put them in a plastic bag. Acer produced one of the hundred dollar bills. There was a pause. The man frowned and said something. Acer shrugged. Acer knew he was about to receive the worst exchange rate anywhere in the city, but that couldn’t be helped. The man did a bit of maths on a scrap of paper and turned it to show Acer. Acer appreciated the gesture, took the local paper and coin currency the man offered in change and nodded his thanks.

  ***

  59

  The alley was long. It stank of bins and animals, lack of sunshine and drains. By the time they reached the end of it, Acer’s calf was smarting. He checked his trouser leg and saw his wound had been bleeding again.

  They exited onto the residential street. Across the road was another of the narrow alleyways that criss-crossed the area. They hurried between the traffic to be swallowed up in more welcome shade.

  This corridor of refuge was long and meandering. Washing was hanging high up between the buildings. Cats shrank back from them. They hurried through the smells of cooking and laundry. People, radios and televisions chattered inanely through open windows. And the whispering of the traffic from either end was funnelled around them.

  At the end of the passageway a bus obscured the view. The door was wide open. Taking a firmer hold of Zoe’s hand, Acer stepped on. He offered a note and was given change. The bus was almost empty. It was stifling and smelled of stale sweat and baking plastic. They slumped into a pair of hot seats.

  Acer kept his head down low and Zoe’s head covered with the scarf. They drank from the water bottles. She took the large chunk of bread he offered and bit into it with an obvious appetite. He tore open the bag of crisps and they shared them until they were gone. Then they ate the apples. Acer noted with satisfaction that the day’s events had at least done something good for the girl’s enthusiasm for food.

  The bus picked up a few passengers and then a bit of speed when it joined a wider highway. An open fanlight window channelled warm air over them. Feeling safer, Acer cl
osed his eyes and slid down to rest his head on the back of the seat. Behind his impassive exterior, he considered the revelations of the afternoon, replaying the way he had blundered into the place where the men had been holding Zoe. Considering how badly that could have gone for him and then for the girl.

  ***

  60

  The bus terminated at the city’s chaotic central bus station. People dashed in all directions and queued and jostled and smoked and talked and gestured. Families, couples, individuals, old, young, the determined and the lost. Street food vendors were doing a good trade, as were the various kiosks. The continuing heat brought out the smell from the road surface – petrol, tarmac, dust and people. In the shade of a wall men and dogs lay on the ground together sharing the relief of a space to rest in.

  Their location provided Acer with inspiration for what to do next. Because of the jostling crowd, he lifted Zoe up and went looking for an information desk. He found it against a far wall mostly obscured by a throng of enquirers: impatient, jabbering and sometimes irritable in the oven-like enclosed space made worse by the number of them vying for position and attention.

  When Acer’s turn came he raised his voice to ask whether anyone spoke English. The man behind the glass showed his lack of interest in finding that out and tried to dismiss them with a shake of his head and a look over Acer’s shoulder at the next in the queue.

  A young woman behind Acer stepped forward. She looked local. She had a student look about her.

  ‘I know English,’ she said. ‘I will help you.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Thank you. I want to know about buses to Port Said.’

  ‘That’s where I go to,’ she said. ‘When do you need it for?’

  ‘The next available with two seats.’

  ‘There’s one in an hour. They are often going here and there. I am here to have my ticket.’

  ‘Can you ask him if he’s got two for me, please? As you can see, we have a language problem.’

  The girl stepped to the glass partition and there ensued a brief and seemingly hostile conversation.

  She turned back to them and said, ‘He has two.’

  ‘How much?’

  She told him.

  Acer didn’t have enough local currency left. He gave her his last one hundred dollar bill. ‘There’s enough here to cover it,’ he said. ‘You can tell him I don’t want change, if it’ll help.’

  The girl took the money from him. She resumed her heated exchange with the man.

  The man handed over two tickets and change in Egyptian pounds.

  ‘You know where?’ she said, giving it all to Acer.

  He smiled again. ‘Thanks very much. I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Wait for me there,’ she said, pointing behind them. ‘Under the clock. I will get my ticket and come to you.’

  He picked Zoe up and pushed his way back through the crowd.

  With his back to a billboard, Acer set Zoe down and took her hand tightly. He scanned the faces rushing about and around them. He wanted to believe it was simply their great good fortune that a helpful, English-speaking Egyptian girl, who just happened to be travelling to where he wanted to go on the bus he wanted to take, came to be standing right behind them in the crush of people seeking tickets and information. He desperately wanted to believe it.

  ***

  61

  He was exhausted. He was anxious. He was suspicious. He was feeling more than a little mistrustful.

  He believed that to have the girl as company would be to their advantage. She would get them on the bus and in their seats. If she were genuine, there would be no problem. If she was not then conventional wisdom asserted that it was always good to keep one’s enemies close. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt, initially. But he determined to watch her closely. As she shoved her way through the hoards of travellers towards them beaming a big, friendly smile, he had to wonder if he was being just a little paranoid. He also started scrabbling about for a convincing lie to explain their situation, their journey, their lack of luggage and the state of them.

  The young girl smiled down at Zoe. She bent her knees so that she was at Zoe’s eye-level. She put out her hand. ‘I’m Eshe. Who is your name?’

  Acer opened his mouth to explain about Zoe but the little girl stopped him making a liar of himself.

  ‘My name is Zoe. And this is my dad. We’re having an adventure.’

  ‘Really? It is interesting.’

  ‘Would you like me to tell you about it?’

  ‘Yes. But let us find a quieter somewhere, shall we?’

  She stood up and to Acer said, ‘Your daughter has lovely speaking.’

  Acer just nodded and smiled down at Zoe. He wondered if the little girl could guess what he was thinking.

  ‘Do you have bag?’ said Eshe.

  ‘No,’ said Zoe. ‘We’re not allowed bags on our adventure. It’s against the rules.’

  Both the adults looked down at her. She stared back at them.

  ‘You need eating and drinking on the bus,’ said Eshe.

  ‘How long is the journey?’ said Acer.

  ‘Three hours, sort of. We stop once.’

  ‘We need to get some supplies,’ said Acer. ‘Do you know anywhere close?’

  ‘I am having water and food, too. A market is too close. Come.’

  She started barging her way through the people. Zoe took Acer’s hand and pulled him after her.

  ***

  62

  They had found somewhere to sit in the shade. They spent their waiting time drinking water and eating some of the food that Eshe had insisted they must try. When Acer thanked Eshe again for the help she was giving them, she gave him to understand that as a single woman travelling alone she was glad of the company. It would deter Egyptian men from approaching her, something that happened a lot when she was making the monthly journey to her parents’ home in Port Said. She was also eager to practise her English at any opportunity. It sounded believable.

  Zoe had become reticent once again, but she was listening attentively to the conversation of the adults. Acer noticed that her appetite was also improving with every opportunity to eat.

  When they’d finished eating and were just waiting for their bus Eshe asked Zoe to tell her about their adventure.

  Acer looked at the little girl with half a smile and wondered whether she was going to surprise him again.

  ‘Our boat is going through the Suez Canal tomorrow. Mummy is on it. We’re going to meet her at the other end. I wanted an adventure. The boat gets boring.’

  ‘So you come to Egypt?’ said Eshe.

  ‘Yes. We’ve looked around a bit and now we have to catch a bus.’

  ‘When is your boat get to Port Said?’

  ‘Tomorrow evening.’

  Eshe looked at Acer, ‘You will get Port Said tonight. You will have all day in Port Said.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Eshe smiled her friendly smile. ‘I like it. It sounds fun adventure. My dad and me did such things like that.’

  Acer wondered if Eshe liked it enough to believe it. He was also thinking about what they would do when they got to Port Said in the middle of the night and then how they would fill the following day with only a few Egyptian pounds left. He wondered how they’d get back to Arcadia. And he wondered again if this friendly young woman could be trusted.

  ***

  63

  Evening arrived on time with their bus, which was late. Acer had been expecting an air-conditioned coach, the sort of transport modern tourist trails all around the world were choked with. What they got was something battered and bruised, dirty and dated. It lumbered up the shallow rise towing a cloud of rank-looking fumes behind it. It was not sign-written, advertising a well-known travel outfit. It was plain, grubby and anonymous. The exterior did not suggest that the interior would surprise the novice traveller. This was a local enterprise and Acer felt that if they got to Port Said at all they should feel fortunate.
>
  The stifling heat of the day had been reduced to something approaching balmy. They’d taken it in turns to use nearby public toilets in preparation for their journey. When Acer had gone in to use them he’d concealed himself and observed the two for a long minute before deciding that he could let Zoe out of his sight.

  The bus was soon filled and surprisingly there was not a chicken or a goat in sight. It was only as they went looking for their places that they realised Acer and Zoe did not have seats next to each other. Acer sent the man from the bus station an unkind thought. Eshe spoke to other travellers and one of them obliged them by swapping his seat.

  Acer put Zoe next to the window. Eshe was a couple of rows forward of them. He shoved their carrier bag of supplies onto the shelf above them and gratefully sank down into the seats moulded to a comfort with the impressions of a thousand backsides.

  After an unexplained delay they left late. Acer scanned the bus depot for men who looked like they were looking for people – looking for them. In the falling dusk he saw nothing to disturb him.

  Within ten minutes Zoe was asleep. She leaned against him and he experienced a powerful sense of protectiveness towards her, something bordering on paternal.

  He had not made a fuss about Zoe finding her voice. He believed, with a hint of realised irony, that it would be better for him to say nothing. She hadn’t spoken again, but he knew she would.

  ***

  64

  Acer remained awake through to the first stop, which was just over an hour into the journey at a little huddle of commercial enterprises lying in wait for them. The stop seemed unnecessary, something clearly contrived for passengers to be taken advantage of rather than the other way around.