Smoke and Mirrors (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 3)

by Oliver Tidy

  They turned onto an unmade track, bumped down a few dozen metres of compacted dirt and came to an abrupt halt outside a couple of makeshift buildings. The coach’s interior lights came on and people stirred, stood and shuffled towards the exit. Many of them already had their cigarettes in their mouths and Acer had another idea of why they’d stopped only an hour into their journey. Eshe waited until everyone who was getting off had gone, and came back to see them.

  ‘If you want to use bathroom, I can watch her for you,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘Thanks, Eshe. You’re a brick.’

  The girl frowned at him.

  He laughed. ‘It means you’re solid, dependable, strong, good to know.’

  She smiled at him for that.

  ‘How long have we got?’

  ‘Twenty minutes.’

  ‘Did we have to stop?’

  ‘The driver makes money from the people here. Possibly, he is related to them. And people want to smoke, of course.’

  They changed places and he went to stretch his legs and find the men’s shack. He needed some water over his face.

  He was back in five minutes. He said, ‘Eshe, can I speak with you off the bus?’

  Eshe looked at Zoe, who was still sleeping heavily.

  ‘Just outside,’ he said. ‘I can keep an eye on her from there.’

  He’d made a decision. They needed help and he had no one else to ask for it. He wanted to believe Eshe was how she appeared to be: innocent, kind, helpful. He took some comfort in his recent track record of judging a person’s honesty and integrity. It wasn’t a hundred percent but it was good enough to encourage him to believe in his ability to judge the character and the heart of an individual when they weren’t fabricating elaborate stories to fool him from the start.

  The evening air in the middle of nowhere had a heady, natural quality about it – a pungent purity that demanded to be noticed, inhaled and savoured.

  On the far side of the bus, shielded from the buildings and their outside lights, it was dark enough without the light pollution of the city to make the tapestry above them something to wonder at – trillions of pearl-white specks randomly strewn across the black backdrop of the infinite universe, like something burst.

  ‘What is it?’ she said. Acer caught a hint of anxiety in the girl’s voice. It only then occurred to him that if she were simply an innocent, kind and helpful girl then she might be worrying regarding what he, a now-dirty, sweaty, scruffy western man with a dodgy story, wanted to get her outside and alone for.

  He spoke slowly and clearly. ‘Eshe, when we get to Port Said, Zoe and I are going to need help. I’m going to be honest with you to a point because you’ve been very kind and helpful to us. And I believe I can trust you. Please, don’t feel that you have to get involved with us any more than you have if, for whatever reason, you don’t want to. That will be fine with me. I owe you a great debt already for how you’ve helped us. I don’t want to ask more from you but, like I say, we need help.’

  He could barely make out her features in the gloom but he could guess she was frowning when she said, ‘What help?’

  ‘First, let me share something with you. And I’d like to think that you’ll keep it to yourself whatever your decision about helping us. Zoe is not my daughter. I’m sorry for that lie. Zoe is someone I’m trying to protect from people who want to hurt her. She is in very real danger. Her mother is on a ship that will make its way through the Suez Canal tomorrow. This morning the people who want to harm them got on board our vessel disguised as traders and snatched Zoe. I was able to follow them and get her back. But then we were stuck on shore. I’ve told the ship not to wait for us in Suez because our enemies could be waiting for us to try to return to it there. I told the ship that we would rejoin them in Port Said. The ship will be in Port Said some time tomorrow evening. We need help in finding our way around Port Said and we need somewhere to spend what’s going to be left of tonight when we get there, and the day tomorrow. Zoe has not been well. A long day in a hot city with nowhere to rest will be hard on her. As you’ve seen, I understand nothing of your language. I’m also just about out of money and ideas.’

  ‘Why are people want to harm them?’

  ‘Because they know secrets that will hurt them. It’s a big deal. I don’t want to tell you more than that because it would be dangerous for you to know it. I understand I’m asking a lot of you. You’ve been a fantastic help already.’

  There was a shout from the other side of the bus.

  ‘The driver,’ she said, in response to his interest. ‘In five minutes he will be leaving. I can think about this. We must get back on the bus now.’

  With little alternative, he followed her back around. She had lost some of her warmth and while it saddened him to be responsible for that he could understand it.

  ***

  65

  Zoe did not wake for the rest of the journey and he managed a short nap. They arrived at Port Said’s central bus station before midnight. The journey had taken less than three hours.

  It was not a great time to arrive in a city one knew nothing about, with little money, no contacts, no one waiting and no idea of where to go.

  He tried not to dwell on his thoughts regarding the sights he’d missed out on by not cruising up the Suez Canal in comfort and daylight. He also tried not to think about whether he’d made a big mistake in travelling to Port Said by bus. He couldn’t help wondering whether trying to get back to the safety of Arcadia, instead of giving into his natural inclination to run, to create distance between them and those searching for them, was what he should have done. There was also going to be the not inconsiderable issue of how they would get from Egyptian soil back on board the cargo ship.

  He woke Zoe. She squirmed in her waking, trying to avoid it, not yet remembering the reality of their situation. And then her thinking was ordered and she opened her big blue eyes and she was alert.

  ‘We’re here,’ he said. ‘Time to rock and roll.’

  He collected the plastic bag from the shelf and they filed off. Eshe had already gone. He did not blame her. He had probably frightened her with his stories. And they had lied to her to gain her trust. Few people took that well.

  Outside the night air was heavy with a moist warmth. It was not unpleasant. It was better than wind and rain or freezing temperatures and snow.

  They were standing on a trampled verge and the people were hurrying around them and away to their loved ones and their beds.

  He took Zoe’s hand and began walking towards the lights of the bus terminal. There would be benches and restrooms. Maybe he could get a coffee, which he suddenly had a great longing for.

  ‘Where are you going?’ called a familiar voice behind them.

  They turned together to find Eshe hurrying after them with the suitcase she’d just retrieved from under the far side of the coach.

  ‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said.

  ‘To get my bag. How you are feeling?’ she said to Zoe.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you and you?’

  Eshe smiled. ‘Tired and hungry.’ She turned her face to Acer. ‘I will help you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Come. We need a taxi.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To my family’s home.’

  ***

  66

  The taxi dropped them outside an apartment block that suggested the occupants did not want for much in their material lives. His first thought after that was, what would Eshe’s wealthy parents think of her arriving home with foreign waifs and strays? He prepared himself for some awkwardness, at the very least.

  They did not enter the building by climbing the dozen marble steps to the opulent front entrance with its contemporary glass and polished-chrome front door. Clutching Zoe’s hand, Acer followed Eshe around to the back of the building. Just off the residents’ secured parking area – a place that bore further testimony to their wealth – and down a small flight of
concrete steps a more modest door was set into the wall below ground level. Eshe used her key to let herself in. She beckoned them to follow her and he hesitated.

  ‘Eshe, shouldn’t you ask your parents first? I mean, think about the situation.’

  Eshe smiled. ‘I am already talk to my mother. I call her from the coach. She expects us. All of us. Now come.’

  They removed their shoes and he was embarrassed to smell his socks. They followed her along a narrow, dimly-lit, bare passageway. The air had a dank underground taint to it. At the next door Eshe knocked. After a few seconds a lock was undone, the door opened and light and smells spilled out of the family kitchen.

  Eshe and her mother embraced briefly before turning their attention to their visitors. Eshe’s mother looked to be somewhere in her late fifties to early sixties. Her face displayed none of the feelings for their intrusion he might have expected. Eshe made the introductions and he shook the mother’s hand. The skin was hard, calloused, and the grasp was tough. This was a working woman. She waved them in and to the table and took a great interest in fussing over the little blonde-haired girl with the big blue eyes.

  ‘What did you tell your mother exactly?’ he said, when he was sitting at the kitchen table.

  ‘You miss your ship at Suez for you were in the city. I am help you to Port Said where you can make it.’

  It wasn’t a complete lie.

  ‘Do you do this sort of thing often?’ he said, smiling.

  ‘It is my first time.’

  ‘We’re so grateful for your trust, your help and your family’s hospitality. Please tell your mother how grateful we are. Where is your father?’

  Something sad passed over Eshe’s face. ‘My father does not be healthy. He cannot meet you. He is sorry and I am sorry from him. He is a great admirer of the British.’

  During the brief spell Acer had enjoyed in Istanbul with Eda, he had learned of the culture of having what Eda had referred to as ‘doorkeepers’ in apartment blocks. These were the people who looked after the places: cleaned the communal floors, maintained the gardens, dealt with the problems, called in the tradesmen and ran errands for the residents. In Turkey the ‘doorkeepers’ occupied the basement flat of an apartment block. Acer imagined the same went for Egypt wherever that same arrangement existed. Eshe’s family were the ‘doorkeepers’ and with the father incapacitated and the mother doing all the work and looking after him, things would not be easy for the family.

  ‘What do you do in Suez?’ he said.

  ‘I am studying.’

  ‘Life must be hard for you all.’

  ‘It is worse for others.’

  Despite the hour the mother placed food and tea before them and showed no signs of going to bed, even though she would surely have a full day coming. He felt guilty and a little ashamed that he had suspected this lovely and generous young woman of being their enemy.

  Eshe and her mother talked quietly. ‘There is bedroom you can use,’ said Eshe. ‘It is my brother’s. He is away. He is with the Army.’

  He offered his sincere thanks again, even though it continued to sound woefully inadequate. It was agreed that Zoe would go through and rest. He said he would prefer to stay in the chair in the kitchen. In truth he would have liked nothing better than to lie down and sleep somewhere comfortable, but Zoe needed the bed and he felt as though they were intruding enough with their presence.

  Eshe offered to take Zoe through and settle her. The girl allowed herself to be led. Before leaving the kitchen she hugged both Acer and the old woman in a display of affection that was quite at odds with anything he’d seen from her since he’d met her. She did not look back when she left the kitchen. She did not seem concerned at all.

  He sat in an awkward silence with the mother until Eshe returned ten minutes later. She brought a pillow and a blanket with her. He thanked her again and wished that they would go to their beds. He said that he felt bad enough for the imposition; he had no desire to deprive them of their beds and their sleep.

  They bid each other a good night and the door was shut, leaving him alone in the small room with only a ticking clock for company. He spent fifteen minutes listening to the household settle into quiet while he thought about the day ahead and how he would get back to the ship at the end of it.

  He took the phone out of his pocket. There was only one bar of battery strength left. He wanted to call the phone David had used to contact him earlier. He wanted to let them know his position, to put Dominique’s mind at rest regarding her daughter. But one phone call now could use up the remaining battery. It could use up any credit that the phone had on it. If he left the phone switched on the battery would not last until morning. If he turned it off to preserve what was left of the battery he might be asked to input a code when he next turned it on. He scrolled through the options to the last call received and recited the number ten times. When he was sure he had it committed to memory he turned it off and hoped he’d remember it in the morning.

  ***

  67

  Niki activated the satellite telephone and dialled the number she had for Hassan.

  ‘They say he has her back. Is it true?’

  ‘They are not back on the ship?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That is something. Mistakes were made. He is resourceful. Perhaps we have underestimated him.’

  ‘No. He has been fortunate. What did you expect from Egyptians? I told you.’

  ‘I expected better. I think I saw him. He has a motorcycle.’

  ‘That’s what they say. He was lucky, that’s all.’

  ‘Do you know where he is now?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then we must continue to look for them.’

  ‘There is no need. They will join the boat at Port Said.’

  ‘You are certain?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then we will be waiting for him. Anything you learn you must tell me quickly.’

  ***

  68

  He dozed fitfully. The chair was uncomfortable and the room was hot. He was fully clothed and he had things on his mind. When the mother tapped the kitchen door a little after daybreak, despite his weary state, he felt some relief that his tortuous night was at an end.

  They exchanged greetings in their own languages and while neither understood the words of the other the sentiment was clear. She busied herself making tea. Eshe came in soon afterwards. She looked tired. Acer wondered what he looked like. He hadn’t shaved for days, he’d had the same clothes on for twenty-four hours; he’d sweated, slept and killed men in them. He needed a shower and a change of clothing. What he craved more than anything was a clear sea and an hour alone with it.

  ‘I’m sorry you are both up so early,’ he said.

  Eshe smiled. ‘We are late. We did not want to see you sooner awake.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry for delaying the start to your mornings.’

  ‘It is no problem. I am here. I help my mother and we get things done.’

  ‘Maybe I can help you with something?’ he said.

  Eshe laughed a little and shared the joke with her mother who chuckled with her. ‘Sorry. Thank you. We eat breakfast, yes?’

  They left Zoe to sleep. The women went to trouble with the food – eggs, cheeses, olives, tomatoes and peppers and bread – that Acer guessed they wouldn’t usually if it were just the two of them. He stayed out of their way, feeling useless and guilty.

  As they were eating, Zoe wandered into the kitchen with none of the awkwardness that older children and adults often feel when guests in other people’s homes. She looked refreshed and rested. Her hair was a mess and her little cotton dress was horribly crumpled but her eyes were bright and inquisitive, and her skin had a healthy glow. Both Eshe and her mother made a fuss of her. Zoe didn’t smile but she allowed herself to be touched by them and guided to the table. She answered Eshe’s questions about her night with studied politeness and she ate the food put in front of her. Her manners were impec
cable. A smile would have transformed her.

  Acer observed her with an oddly proud pleasure. When she caught his stare he winked at her and almost laughed out loud when she tried to wink back. It was clear that in her mind they were still conspirators, privy to knowledge and secrets that their hosts were not.

  After the breakfast things had been cleared away, Eshe said that her mother had chores to do around the apartment building and that she would be helping her. It was still not seven o’clock and he was reminded of the hard lives these people lived.

  Before they went he asked if they had a phone charger that might fit his mobile. They did not but Eshe knew someone who might. She said she would ask. He troubled them for pencil and paper and wrote down the phone number he was afraid of forgetting.

  He said, ‘Can I help you with anything?’

  Eshe smiled her thanks for his repeated offer but said no without consulting her mother.

  ‘Come on, there must be something I can do to help. I don’t want to sit around here like some useless lump all day. Think about it from my side: I need to do something to say thank you. How about outside, in the garden? You said your mother and you have to do everything now. Ask her. Please.’

  Eshe spoke with her mother and her mother shook her head. She was proud. Too proud to have a guest in their home dirty their hands with manual labour.

  He tried again, ‘Tell your mother she’ll be doing me a favour. I’ll go mad stuck inside all day. I need something to occupy my thoughts and my hands.’

  Eshe spoke more firmly with her mother and after a brief conversation it was agreed that he could maybe run the lawnmower over the grassed area at the back. He smiled, glad for an opportunity to repay some of the debt he felt for their incredible kindness and trust.