Birds of the Nile (22 page)

Lee Yong must have heeded his words as she did come down for her evening meal. Neither was she late, if anything too early, for when Blake and the others entered the dining room at seven, she was already in her place and looked as though she’d been there for some time. Nor had she ‘dressed’ for the occasion, although that was of no real consequence as neither had anyone else – it was not yet their last night together and therefore carried no special meaning.

Even so, it registered with Blake, because except for the three-quarter length jacket, she was wearing the same set of clothes as she had when he’d first seen her on that bitterly cold morning at Queen Hatshepsut’s Temple – the Cuban heels, the jeans, the rock-band T-shirt. And yet in spite of this, her appearance had subtly altered. The long dangly earrings were gone and her hair was merely brushed instead of carefully styled. The faintest of lines had grown up around the corners of her eyes and with the moderation in her use of make-up, it had deprived her of that steely look which had so reduced him in the beginning. Then she’d looked stunning – now she seemed altogether softer and gentler, as though her aura of impregnable self-confidence had given way to a bout of melancholy. It was as if the events of the week had made her vulnerable – and in Blake’s eyes she was all the more attractive for it. If he’d ever been in love with her (and it was still something he dared not think about), then it was never more so than now.

He understood her mood only too well – he’d suffered from the self-same kind of introspection himself. But what puzzled him was why it should still afflict her. Most of the cares that had been heaped on her were now in the past. Reda had been rescued and although hurt, was well on the road to recovery. They’d escaped the tyranny of Aswan and were on their way to the comparative safety of Luxor, where according to the latest
reports, the airport was open and flights were running as normal. Once there, the door to the world was open and as she’d made clear to them on the night she’d introduced herself, she could go anywhere she chose. Money was no object – she still had the balance of her savings from the purser’s safe, and when that was gone there was always the backing of her father’s war chest. She’d used it to buy Reda’s freedom and even if he’d repeated the same offence a hundred times over, as he’d told Blake he was prepared to do, she could still have set him free on each occasion. And yet she was learning it was not enough. She could buy all she wanted in the material world – but she could not, it seemed, buy happiness.

After the others had sat down and started chatting, the reason for her early arrival became apparent. She wanted to talk to Blake, and she waited patiently until the rest were all otherwise engaged before pulling at the sleeve of his linen jacket.

“Michael,” she whispered. “I need to speak to you.”

It was the use of his forename as much as the secretive nature of her approach that alerted him to the fact that something might be wrong. His initial thought was that Reda had suffered some kind of relapse.

“What, now?”

“No, after dinner will be fine.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes…” Although something told him it was not. “I’ll meet you in the foyer.”

“Ok.”

And so for the time being he was left to wonder.

He’d come to the table with the constant worry that Mrs Biltmore might begin another of her stories and inadvertently reveal their secret. The need to guard against the possibility remained at the forefront of his mind and with Lee Yong’s request hovering at the back of it, it made for a tense and nervous
meal-time.

He was fortunate that the bulk of the conversation touched neither on Reda nor the revolution. Ever since they’d left Aswan, the others had lost interest in political affairs and had become focused on how they were going to rescue the rest of their holiday and how they were going to get home. The idea that they were involved in an event that might change the world had not occurred to them. So when David announced he had news, it turned out to be of an entirely provincial nature.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Keith and I have managed to get a trip to Karnak organised for tomorrow. We’ve persuaded the captain to lay on a couple of buses for eight-thirty in the morning so we’ll get to spend a few hours there. There’ll be a notice going up on the board fairly soon, if it’s not there already.”

“That’s great.” Blake seized on the issue. He was keen to keep the subject under discussion as it helped to keep attention away from Reda and Lee Yong. “I’m impressed – how did you manage that?”

“Pretty simple really. Keith told him that if he didn’t, he’d report it to the tour company and ask for a refund. He jumped pretty smartish after that.”

“That was a bit brutal.”

“Not really. Karnak was on the original itinerary and we’ve missed enough already. We’ve paid for it, so I don’t really see there’s a problem.”

“Evidently not. And what about tomorrow night? Wasn’t there talk of a farewell function?”

“You mean the reception at Luxor Temple.”

“Yes – is that still on the agenda?”

“Absolutely! I don’t think they had any choice after I’d mentioned the Karnak business.”

“Well good for you, that’s a result. You must be feeling pretty pleased with yourself.”

“Oh, trust me, he is,” Joan cut in, a little sarcastically. She’d
braved the drawback of her reddened appearance to join them. The areas of her face that had been exposed glowed like a lantern, but with the help of David’s pair of dark glasses she’d succeeded in covering the white patches round her eyes. “In fact, he’s been insufferable this afternoon. Although to be honest, I’m just glad of having something to do tomorrow. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve been bored silly just sitting around all day.”

At this point Blake half expected Mrs Biltmore to chime in with some unwanted remark. He could imagine it would begin with the medical treatment of sunburn and would involve her experiences in Vietnam. This would lead on to a discussion about nursing and the fact that Joan would not have found the day half so boring had she known what was going on in Lee Yong’s cabin. But to his great relief she did not and the moment passed without incident. Nor at any time during the conversation did she attempt to catch his eye (or Lee Yong’s either as far as he could tell) to try and pass on a conspiratorial glance to confirm their collective involvement. Instead, she sat quietly restrained and restricted herself to a few whispered asides to Ira between courses.

After dinner, and for the second night running, he went to meet Lee Yong in the foyer. This time, rather than stand beneath the flashing images of the TV screen, they chose to sit in comfort on the sofa.

Blake had thought to bring his coffee up from the dining room and settled back, waiting for Lee Yong to begin. But she was unable to relax and the same anxieties that had driven her down to dinner early remained and brought her to the edge of her seat. Eventually, she took a deep breath and made a start.

“It’s about Reda…” He’d imagined it would be. At the moment, it was all about Reda. “I’ve asked if he wants to come with me.”

“What, on your tour of Europe?”

“No, to America.”

“America? I thought…”

“Things have changed, Mr Blake.” Obviously they had. “That business about travelling the world and visiting those faraway places – it seems a bit pointless now. It’s all very well but you can’t go on roaming around for ever – at some stage you have to make a decision about your future. You see, I’ve been talking to Mrs Biltmore.”

“Yes, you told me – about her being a nurse in Vietnam.”

“Yes, that was yesterday. This is something different.”

“Go on.”

“Well, when she was in my cabin this morning, she was telling me about Johns Hopkins.” Blake recalled how she’d spoken about it at the start of the trip. “You see, Ira was Head of Department.” So that was it – Blake had been wondering. “He retired a couple of years ago but he’s still on the board and has quite a lot of influence. It’s a tremendous university, Mr Blake, and they could get me a place, I’m sure of it – Mrs Biltmore said so. And they could get one for Reda, she said that too.”

A few days ago he’d have been inclined to take Mrs Biltmore’s pronouncements with a pinch of salt but in the new scheme of things, he was obliged to look on them with a degree of seriousness.

“And is that what you want?”

“Yes, I think it is now. It’s what I was always going to do and to be honest, Mr Blake, the last few days have frightened me and I just want to get away somewhere safe. And I want Reda to get away, too. I heard what you said the other day – that it doesn’t end here and that they’ll always be looking for him. I’ve been thinking about it and you’re right. There’ll be no peace for him in Cairo – there’ll be no peace for him in Egypt – and he’ll always be looking over his shoulder. This is a chance for him to escape all that and find somewhere quiet to settle down. Oh, Mr Blake, after
you’ve lived in a country where you’re afraid to speak your mind or stand up for your rights, think what it must be like to wake up every day where you’re free to say and do what you want. Isn’t that a wonderful prospect?”

A light had returned to her eyes and it was as if the spark of childlike enthusiasm that had carried her to the head of the Valley of the Kings was re-ignited. Over the last few days she’d aged far more quickly than she’d have liked or expected but now it seemed there was a ray of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, and it shone out in her like a beacon.

Blake sensed the change and felt an inner surge of shared emotion. If she’d come to a solution that meant she could be rescued from her dejected state, then there was hope for them all. There was even a chance that one day, he too might be saved.

These were grounds for optimism, but he still gave a guarded response. Even if Mrs Biltmore and Ira could do what they’d said, there were other practicalities to think of – not least of which was the position of the young Egyptian.

“Have you spoken to Reda about this?”

“I’ve tried.”

“And how does he feel?”

“That’s the point. It’s difficult getting him to talk about it. He’s so wrapped up in what’s going on in Cairo that I can’t get him to think about anything else. I know he’s been hurt and needs to rest – but all he’s done all day is sit in front of that television and watch the news. I don’t think he realises the danger he’s in. That’s why I’ve come to you, Mr Blake. Can’t you speak to him? I’m convinced he’d listen if you were to talk to him. Someone needs to make him see sense. Can’t you tell him what it would mean?”

“Me? What makes you think I’ve got any more influence over him than you have?”

“He respects you.”

“Really?”

Blake was genuinely surprised. He’d led such an independent
life that he wasn’t used to the idea that he might have an effect on the emotions of others.

“Yes, he’s told me that. He says you’re the only one who’s taken the trouble to hear what he has to say. You seem to know more about these things anyway.”

Blake felt flattered for the second time in as many minutes. The comment sounded sincere, although something still didn’t sit right.

“I’m not certain…”

…that I’m the one that you want
.

His hesitation only caused Lee Yong to intensify her pleading.

“Do it for my sake, Mr Blake. You know how much I want to go – and now it’s a chance for the both of us. This is a tremendous opportunity – and when opportunities are given to you, you have to take them. Don’t you agree? Or do you think I’m being foolish?”

“No, I don’t think you’re foolish at all.”

“You’ll speak to him then? Please?”

She’d turned herself round on the edge of the sofa so she was almost confronting him. The tears of the last two days had all but dried up but there was still a suggestion of strain. Her voice had a begging quality and her face such an imploring look – how could he possibly deny her? Like a stray sheep herded into a pen, he felt he’d been manoeuvred into a position from which he could not escape. She’d cornered him and it left him no alternative – was that how she managed her father, in exactly the same way?

“Very well…”

“Thank you, Mr Blake. I knew I could rely on you. You’ll do it soon though, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes. As soon as I can. In the morning.”

She might grant him one night’s peace, at least.

Now she’d extracted his promise, Lee Yong sought to excuse herself. She had to look after Reda and there were doubtless things to do for the following day.

Blake watched as she made her way across the foyer toward the stairway, her shoulder bag swinging to the rhythm of her Cuban heels. Yesterday he’d agreed to contact the local chief of police and offer him a bribe on her behalf – and then he’d been down to the station with her to ensure the deal was met. Today she’d persuaded him to talk Reda into going to America with her – a task which in his view was likely to be just as onerous. How had he managed to get so involved? He wasn’t the only one she’d drawn in – somehow she had beguiled them all, Mrs Biltmore, Ira, the others. If it hadn’t been for her…

The hint of a mischievous smile crossed his lips as he suddenly saw the funny side. All in all, it was an unlikely situation they found themselves in. Halfway up the Nile an Englishman, a Malaysian and an American were all looking after an Egyptian – it sounded like the opening line of a particularly bad joke.

Blake rolled over, turned to face the net-curtained window then pulled the covers over his head and buried himself deep beneath his bedclothes. Not for the first time he found the darkness especially comforting. It was his first conscious act of the day and served a number of vital purposes.

Firstly, it relieved him of the need to stare vacantly at his tripod and telescope, both of which had lain unused against the wall by the doorway since his early morning excursion to watch Spoonbills the day before. With the exception of his boat trip in Aswan, they reminded him of how futile his birding trip had become. Secondly – and more importantly – it enabled him to shut out the rest of the world and in particular, his ill-considered promise of the night before to go and speak to Reda. Ever since he’d committed himself to doing it, he’d been consumed with regret and to put it bluntly, he was dreading it.

Lee Yong’s request had placed him in an awkward position and he was unsure of what to do. On the one hand, he genuinely wanted to help her. He could feel his heart urging him forward on her behalf and he told himself that he must seek Reda out at the earliest opportunity and speak to him to put the case in her favour. Like the advice given to the pioneers in America,
Go west
,
young man!
he would tell him.
Go west, young man, and grow up with the country! For God’s sake go! While you still have the chance…
It was what he’d failed to do himself and sometime in the early hours of the morning he’d come to the conclusion that Lee Yong was right – opportunities such as this were few and far between and when offered, they should be taken.

There was nothing that would give him greater pleasure at that moment than to see the two of them fly off together. Like migrating swallows bound for a distant land, after a long and perilous journey they might settle down and find a spot where they could build a nest. Later, they would return with young
ones…It was a profoundly foolish thought, but somewhere deep within him an unrequited romantic was at work.

On the other hand, every logical consideration he could think of spoke against it. His abiding principle not to interfere with nature carried over into his human relationships – it was none of his business what other people did and he must not get involved. Reda and Lee Yong should be left to work things out for themselves and what would be, would be. He’d overstepped the mark at least twice before – firstly at the Egyptian Evening (although he’d somehow got away with it), and then his trip along the riverbank had been a terrible mistake and he rued the moment he’d ever thought of setting out on it. Far better to retreat now before he got drawn in too deep.

It was not just his principles that held him back – the mere idea of ‘talking’ to Reda at all made him distinctly uneasy. He was not in the habit of lecturing young men and telling them what to do and for him it was an altogether unnatural experience. He likened it to that dreaded moment when a father is obliged to take his son to one side and tell him about the birds and the bees. There would be an embarrassed clearing of the throat, then,
There’s something we need to discuss…
Why couldn’t they find these things out for themselves?

He began to formulate a compromise. Instead of tackling things head-on, what if he were to casually drop the subject into an existing conversation? If the opportunity presented itself, then it might not appear so deliberate. Curled up beneath the covers, he started to practise the words in his mind.
So, do you and Lee Yong have any plans? What are you going to do when this is all over?
It sounded an innocent enough question. If he could just find the right moment…

His train of thought was interrupted by a loud and yet naggingly familiar noise. From somewhere in the vicinity, the quiet peace of the morning was being shattered by the amplified voice of a loud-hailer. The shock of it caused him to sit bolt
upright in the bed, and he immediately threw off the covers and went to the window where he drew back the net curtains and started to look for clues.

As he’d suspected, the gentle sensation of forward motion that had been present the previous day had stopped and the ship had come to a halt. They’d moored up some time during the night and instead of looking out across the river as he’d done at Aswan, his cabin now faced the town. On the other side of the Corniche, framed by the rising sun, was the familiar skyline of Luxor. The clock on his bedside table showed six-thirty-five. A little late for the call to morning prayers, and he could not recall hearing them when they’d been here some six days before. And besides, this was not the rallying cry of an Imam – it was the barked instruction of someone in command.

A horrible thought occurred and he hurriedly pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and stuck his feet into the first available pair of footwear he could find. Grabbing his fleece from its hook on the back of the door he ran down the corridor, up the stairs and out onto the sun-deck.

He was not the first to arrive – half the passenger list had already gathered on the port-side rail to investigate. A few had managed to get dressed but most were still in their nightclothes. The tall and craggy figure of Keith was easy to pick out and despite his pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, he still gave off his usual air of authority.

“What’s going on?” Blake called across.

“Damned if I know,” said Keith. “But it looks as though the police are paying us a visit. Come and see for yourself.”

He went over to join him.

They had indeed reached Luxor, but they were moored much closer to the town centre than they’d been before and the tour buses were now stationed in a row along the main road. Closer to hand, a line of three white cars was drawn up on the quayside.
Blake instantly recognised them. Behind them, a large blue truck was already disgorging a line of armed police out onto the tarmac. At the top of the steps leading down to the ship’s gangplank, Mr Mohammed, the ship’s captain, had adopted a pleading posture and was attempting to bar the way. More ominously, standing next to him was the unmistakable figure of Aswan’s chief of police. Megaphone in hand, Hossein Rasheed was busily directing affairs.

Blake’s hands tightened their grip on the ship’s rail. The presence of the fat policeman meant only one thing – they were searching for Reda. A mixture of guilt and fear swirled around his stomach. After all the effort they’d made to secure the young Egyptian’s safety, they were about to be undone. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Why hadn’t he thought? And yet, of course he had.
I know these people – they’ll come looking
. More to the point, why hadn’t he done something about it? He’d told himself he needed a plan – and last night he’d meant to concoct one but Lee Yong’s request had distracted him. He had to think quickly – although on board ship, sat out on the Nile, there were limited options available.

It was too late to debate the issue now – his first priority was to warn Lee Yong. With a quiet
You’ll have to excuse me
and making every effort not to appear panicked, he quickly slipped away and went below.

As soon as he was out of sight he took the stairs two at a time and ran. The lower decks were crowded with people still making their way up. He tried his best to barge through but arrived too late and as he entered Lee Yong’s corridor from one end, a group of blue-clothed police headed by Hossein Rasheed entered it from the other. Working their way towards him, they began knocking on doors.

Blake stood paralysed at the foot of the stairway, not knowing what to do. At any moment they would reach Lee Yong’s cabin.
If he made a move to warn her they would only become suspicious – he dared not risk it. The alternative was to stand in their way and try to halt their progress while Reda made his escape. But he was hardly strong enough for that and it would only be a matter of time.

Outside Lee Yong’s door, a young officer stood poised with a sledgehammer, ready to force an entry.

“Police! Open up!” he called out in Arabic.

She would not understand the words, but the meaning was abundantly clear.

The door cracked open and Lee Yong’s face appeared. She looked as pale and as serious as she’d done at any time in the last few days. In the corridor outside, Rasheed recognised her at once and nodded vigorously, urging his men forward.

“Yes, yes. In here, this is the one we want, go on.”

Pushing Lee Yong’s slight frame to one side, they forced their way into the room.

Blake rushed in behind, followed by the fat policeman.

For a few hectic moments it was a confused and crowded scene. While one stood guard at the doorway, two other officers scoured the room from top to bottom – the en suite, the wardrobe, under the bed, anywhere a man might be concealed. Lee Yong had retreated before them and stood calmly by the window as she’d done the day before, her arms clasped about herself as if trying to ward off cold – or more likely, the lurking presence of Rasheed. With his hands held firmly behind his back, Aswan’s chief of police thrust out his great belly and watched keenly from the far wall, waiting for results.

Blake caught Lee Yong’s eye. He saw her give a tiny shake of her head, although whether this was supposed to mean
The game’s up, we’re lost
or
He’s not here
, he wasn’t sure. Either way, she chose to stay put by the window while presiding over the chair in which Reda had sat so recently that Blake was sure he could still make out the young man’s impression. On the dressing
table, the computer had gone along with the mobile phone and the wallet, although the envelope stuffed with cash he’d left the previous day remained hidden amongst the row of bottles. He thought to look at the bed and was horrified to see that although it had clearly been slept in and the covers hastily pulled up, there were still dents in each of the two pillows. But even if he’d noticed it, the policemen obviously had not and soon reported back.

“It’s clear.”

Over by the far wall, Rasheed scowled and waved them out of the room. He began to pace up and down in the space beside the bed, occasionally looking up at Blake and Lee Yong with an agitated frown.

“So! What have you done with him?” he demanded at last.

“What have we done with who?” said Blake. It was the obvious reply, but under the circumstances it sounded rather crass.

Rasheed stopped his pacing and turned to face them. His scowl had reappeared.

“Don’t play games with me, Mr Blake. You know precisely who I mean.”

“If you’re talking about Reda Eldasouky,” said Blake, “I can honestly tell you, I have no idea where he is. He’s obviously not here,” he waved his hand around the empty room, “and you’re quite welcome to look in my cabin if you wish. I have nothing to hide.”

“A fine gesture – but pointless,” said Rasheed. “Your cabin is being searched even as we speak.”

Blake shrugged – it made no difference.

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard in the corridor as the three officers returned.

“Anything?” Rasheed called out, cocking his head to one side.

“No, Chief, nothing…”

Blake was tempted to smirk. It seemed that he’d worried for
no real reason.

“So what are you going to do now? You surely can’t search the whole ship?”

“I wouldn’t waste my time trying – there are far too many places for a man to hide. I have other, much more effective ways of finding what I want. Someone knows where he is – and before too long, someone will tell me.”

“Oh really? So who do plan to torture next?”

Rasheed’s failure had boosted Blake’s confidence.

The policeman’s piggy eyes narrowed.

“Just be thankful, Mr Blake, that you’re not an Egyptian…” His scowl changed to a look of genuine annoyance. “I suppose you think you’re both very clever. You’ve managed to hide him from me this time, but I will find him, make no mistake about that.” His flabby jowls wobbled disconcertingly when he spoke. “It seems I should not have let him go. He’s wanted urgently in Cairo and there’s a price on his head. The big boss wants to talk to him, so don’t imagine for one moment he’ll escape us, because he won’t – we’re looking out for him everywhere. As for you British,” he said, turning directly to Blake. “If you think you can come here and meddle in our affairs, you’re mistaken. You can tell your friends at the British Embassy that when we catch this man the world will know it was you and your American allies who kept him hidden from us. You will regret this or my name is not Hossein Rasheed.”

While he’d been talking, Blake had kept his eyes on Lee Yong. She’d remained rooted to the spot and seemed reluctant to move away from the window which he could see had been opened. The net curtains were drawn to one side and behind them, a small handrail protected the twenty-foot drop into the Nile. For an agile young man it would present little difficulty, but Reda was bulky and suffering from a sprained ankle. Even so, it was not impossible to think he’d gone over the side. The ancient river held many secrets – here perhaps was another.

Rasheed was quick to catch the subject of Blake’s attention and immediately came to the same conclusion. He walked swiftly across to the window and shoving Lee Yong aside, looked out onto the Nile.

“Here!” He shouted to his troops and pointed. “This is where he’s gone – look how the bitch covers up for him. Get back to the quayside and scour the riverbank. There’s a reward for the man who finds him!”

There was a triumphal note in his voice. He gave a leer in their direction, then turned on his heel and stalked out into the corridor where his rasping voice could be heard echoing down the stairs.

“Move! Move! Come on you lazy dogs, there’s work to do. Move!”

Suddenly the room was empty save for Blake and Lee Yong. In front of the net-curtained window, she drew her arms ever tighter about herself and shuddered.

“Ugh! That man…He gives me – what do you English call it? – the crepes?”

“I think you mean the creeps.”

“Whatever…”

Blake studied her face. She seemed calm, and if what he had just witnessed was the worst of her reaction, then she’d clearly survived the ordeal quite well. He’d half expected her to burst into tears and collapse under the pressure.