Night Train to Memphis (31 page)

‘I didn’t think it was.’

My teeth weren’t clenched, they were bared. Schmidt said hurriedly, ‘Yes, I will tell you, if you will stop the interruptions. I went, as I had said I would, to the Winter Palace
Hotel and checked myself in. I was eating Mittagessen when a waiter summoned me to the telephone. It was Feisal; he was calling me, he said, at the instruction of a mutual friend. You had foolishly
run away from him – Feisal, that is – and he – the friend – feared you would return to the house of Larry Blenkiron. He – the friend – strongly advised that I
should adopt evasive measures for my own sake and for your sake I should hover outside the gates and try to intercept you.’

I had a sudden, insane mental image of Schmidt hovering over the house like the Goodyear blimp. Or a very well-fed angel. It won’t be Heaven to Schmidt unless there is an unending flow of
fattening food.

‘You were too quick for me,’ Schmidt went on, frowning. ‘I was still hoping to see you come when I heard the guns shooting and knew they must be shooting at you or at Sss . . .
at John. So I leaped from the taxi, telling the driver to be ready for instant departure, and was about to break down the gate when you emerged.’

‘Break down the gate,’ I repeated. ‘How did . . . Never mind. You’re a hero, Schmidt. If you hadn’t been there I’d never have made it.’

‘If it had not been for the foresight and noble sacrifice of John you would not have made it,’ Schmidt corrected. ‘So now we must rescue him, eh? Do you know where they have
taken him?’

‘They didn’t take him anywhere.’ I stared at my hand. The knuckles were raw. ‘John managed to – to distract the other guys, they aren’t awfully bright, but he
didn’t fool Max. Max knew there hadn’t been time for me to get away. He figured I had to be hiding somewhere in the room. The wardrobe was the most obvious place When he told them to
tie John up he was trying to mislead me, to suggest that they intended to transport him some distance. Rudi even started to question the order, but Max cut him off. John is still there. So
I’ve got to go back.’

‘Aber natürlich,’ Schmidt said.

‘I had to leave him, Schmidt. I had to convince Max I had fallen for his fabrication, and make sure the others knew I was gone. My departure was a little more conspicuous than I meant it
to be,’ I admitted. ‘But now they’ll be off guard, they won’t expect me to come back. If I’d hung around – ’

‘Stop it, Vicky.’ Schmidt stifled me with the handkerchief. I blew my nose and mopped my face, while he continued gently, ‘You do not have to convince me. To have acted
otherwise would have been folly.’

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘I get nervous when people shoot at me.’

‘Ha,’ said Schmidt. ‘Now be quiet and I will tell you some things. Did you think I was so stupid I did not know what you were doing? From the first I have known – known
more than you, Ms. Know-it-all. I told you I never forget a face. The moment I set eyes on the secretary of Mr Blenkiron I recognized him for the criminous cutter of silhouettes.’

‘How could you?’ I demanded incredulously. ‘You never saw Max. He was in jail.’

‘And that is where I saw him, in the jail. I was curious,’ Schmidt admitted. ‘I am interested in the criminal mentality, and what you had told me of him suggested he was an
unusual person. On the boat he kept away from you, but he did not expect I would remember. As soon as I recognized him I knew there was trouble brewing, which I had of course suspected as soon as I
saw Sir John. A coincidence, that you and he should both be on that boat? You insult me to think I would believe such a story.’

‘You pretended to believe it.’

‘Well, of course. My feelings were deeply wounded by your lack of faith in me. But I forgave you,’ Schmidt said magnanimously. ‘For the desperateness of the situation became
clear to me when I recognized that terrible man. The one thing I did not know was the identity of the young woman, but of course I realized that it was only a marriage of convenience and that his
heart still belonged to you.’

I started to say something sarcastic but I changed my mind. If his heart didn’t belong to me, he had gone to considerable lengths for the sake of friendship.

‘How’d you figure that out?’ I asked meekly.

‘From the way he did not look at you when he thought others were looking and the way he
did
look at you when he thought others were not. You,’ said Schmidt judiciously,
‘were more skilled at concealing your feelings. Had I not known better I would have believed you were adversaries instead of – ’

‘Yeah, right. Did John tell you what they’re planning, Schmidt?’

‘No, he did not have to tell me. I knew.’

‘How did . . . Oh, hell, never mind that now.’ I looked out of the window of the cab. Palm trees, flower beds, the rippling river beyond . . . ‘First things first. Did you
check out of the Winter Palace?’

‘No. You see – ’

‘For God’s sake, Schmidt! They know you’re there; they’ll be looking for you.’

Schmidt let out a roar. For all his pretended calm, his nerves weren’t in much better shape than mine. ‘Give me some credit for good sense, Vicky! If I had checked out they would
only look for me somewhere else. Now they will wait for me to return. I left my luggage, but I have with me all we will need,’ He indicated the briefcase on the seat next to him.

‘You’re right, and I’m a fool,’ I said humbly.

‘No, you are not a fool. You are fearing for the life and safety of the man you – ’

I didn’t want to scream at him but I knew I would if he said it, so I cut in. ‘I have the essentials with me too, but I’ve got to get rid of this gold-and-turquoise bag.
It’s too conspicuous”

‘Now you are thinking,’ Schmidt said approvingly. He leaned forward and addressed the driver.

‘I did’t know you spoke Arabic’

‘I speak all languages.’ Schmidt twirled his moustache. ‘My Arabic is not good, however. Only a few phrases.’

Following – I assumed – Schmidt’s instructions, the cab stopped at one of the street markets, and Schmidt hopped out. He returned with an armful of souvenirs, including a new
bag. This one was black, with the head of Nefertiti on one side and rows of hieroglyphs on the other. A good half of the souvenirs sold in Egypt have Nefertiti on them.

‘Now where?’ I asked, transferring passport, wallet, and a few dozen other objects into the new bag.

‘The ETAP,’ Schmidt answered. ‘It is good that you have your passport; we will need them in order to register.’

‘Under our own names?’

‘Unless you happen to have a false passport with you, we have no other choice,’ Schmidt said with pardonable sarcasm. ‘You know the regulations for foreigners. And don’t
tell me we should choose a less expensive hotel. When they begin looking for us they will look in the cheaper places, thinking that we would not be so foolish as to go to another four-star botel.
It is what you call the double whammy,’ Schmidt added.

I hated to get out of that taxi. I felt as conspicuous as a stoplight. However, I was less conspicuous at an expensive hotel, with other tall blond female tourists around, than I had been in the
back streets of Luxor. Schmidt had had another bright idea, so, following his suggestion, I hung back, studying a rack of brochures, while he registered. The old boy was really in top form today
– and I was not. If they tracked him down he could come up with a legitimate excuse for changing hotels, and my name would not be on the register. As he passed me, following the bellboy, he
said loudly, ‘The fourth floor, you say?’ I waited a few minutes before following. When I got out on the fourth floor Schmidt was waiting to lead me to his room. It was a nice room,
with a balcony and twin beds. Not that I expected to occupy one.

‘Good work, Schmidt,’ I said. ‘Now we have to – ’

‘Call the room service,’ said Schmidt, suiting the action to the word. ‘When he comes you will hide in the bathroom. Now close your mouth, Vicky, it looks very ugly when it is
in that shape. I know the anguish that grips you, the frantic need to rush to the rescue of the man you – ’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think you do, Schmidt.’

‘But it is important that we organize ourselves instead of running headlong into danger and inevitable defeat. How long has it been since you have eaten?’

I sat down on one of the beds. ‘I don’t remember.’

‘We will be running and shooting and using much energy,’ Schmidt said with evident relish. ‘We will need all our strength and cunning. We must procure disguises. And weapons,
and money, much more money, for bribes and for – ’

‘You can’t come with me, Schmidt.’

‘But Vicky – ’

‘Come here, Schmidt.’ I patted the bed next to me. Pouting, Schmidt sat down. I put my arms around him – as far around as they would go. ‘You’re the man I love,
Schmidt. You’re also about a thousand per cent smarter than anybody I know, including me. Especially me. I will have something to eat and I will assume any disguise you can supply, and I will
proceed with the utmost care and caution. But one person has a better chance of sneaking into that place than two.’ Especially when one of them was the size of Schmidt. I’d have cut my
tongue out before saying it, though. I went on, ‘And one of us has to play backup. If I don’t make it, you’ll have to come in for me. That,’ I added quickly, ‘is a
football term, Schmidt, not a literal suggestion. I mean – ’

‘I know the football,’ Schmidt sniffed. He had given me his handkerchief, so he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘You mean I must go to to the police. Why don’t
we do that now?’

‘I can think of at least two good – ’ A knock on the door interrupted me. I dragged myself into the bathroom and splashed water on my face while I waited for the waiter to
leave. The face needed a lot more than water, but I got the worst of the dirt off before Schmidt called me back.

‘I know the reasons too,’ he said, waving me into a chair. ‘It will be hard to convince the police they must invade the home of so distinguished a visitor as Herr Blenkiron.
Have you any proof, Vicky, of what he plans?’

‘No.’ I put things in my mouth and chewed them. Swallowing wasn’t easy, but I managed it. ‘That’s one reason. The other . . .’

‘Yes, I have thought of that too.’ For once Schmidt didn’t appear to be enjoying his food.

Neither of us wanted to say it. Even supposing the cops could be persuaded to search the house, they might not find anything. It’s easier to hide a dead body than a live one. John knew
exactly what they were planning. They still needed him for one part of the scheme – I was pretty sure I knew what part – but they’d work around that rather than take the risk of
letting him talk to the authorities.

‘Another thing concerns me,’ Schmidt said, tactfully changing the subject. ‘Is there a possibility, do you think, that not all the police are honest?’

‘It’s a dead certainty, I think, that some of them are not. There are a few people in any security service in any country who can be bought.’ I put my fork down and stared
dismally at my boss. ‘That’s another little problem, Schmidt. I doubt that even John knows who is in Blenkiron’s pay and who is unwitting. If we pick the wrong person . .
.’

‘Eat, eat,’ Schmidt urged. ‘Do not lose heart. We will not pick the wrong person because we will go straight to the tops – my old acquaintance, Dr Ramadan, the director
of the Cairo Museum, and my dear friend the Interior Minister, and the pleasant individual I met at a conference – ’

‘I’ll leave it to you, Schmidt,’ I said. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t sit still a second longer. At that moment I was in complete sympathy
with the people who want to censor films because of excessive, explicit violence. Obviously I’d seen too many of them; Technicolor images kept flashing across the screen of my mind.
‘Help me figure out how I’m going to get back in that place.’

The main gate was out. They’d be guarding it closely, especially since I had wrecked the electronic controls. Once inside there was a chance I could mingle with the packers long enough to
enter the house. If the packers were still there and if I could climb that damned wall and if my turban didn’t fall off . . .

‘Forget it,’ I said impatiently, grabbing the strip of white cloth from Schmidt after it had collapsed around my ears for the third time. ‘I can’t put it on till after we
leave the hotel anyhow. I’ll cheat and use safety pins.’

He’d had to make a quick shopping trip. There are dozens of shops and souvenir stands along the corniche; the only problem he’d had was finding a galabiya without sequins,
embroidery, or bright braid. The one he’d brought back was plain grey. After I wadded it up and rubbed it in the flower box on the balcony and frayed the hem, it looked reasonably authentic.
The white cloth was a cotton scarf designed for female tourists. My handsome tanned complexion came out of a bottle.

‘What else have you got in there?’ I asked, curiosity overcoming my raging impatience as Schmidt replaced the bottle in his briefcase.

‘Contact lenses,’ said Schmidt. ‘Black ones and brown ones. Scissors. They are useful for many things. Dye for the hair – ’

I declined the hair colouring. It would take too long to dry, and if it was the same stuff Schmidt had used on his moustache it would probably run.

‘Traveller’s cheques,’ Schmidt continued. ‘And money. Take it, you may need it. I will cash more traveller’s cheques this afternoon. And take this also.’

I put the cash into my pocket. The other offering was a knife.

‘Where’d you get that?’ I demanded. He must have brought the other things all the way from Munich, but he could never have gotten the knife through customs. It had a worn
wooden hilt and a blade eight inches long. The edges shone.

‘From the taxi driver,’ Schmidt said calmly. ‘He did not have a gun, but he – ’

‘Thanks.’ I was in no mood to be fussy. I was only sorry the taxi driver hadn’t packed an Uzi.

I didn’t get to use my pretty new bag after all. I filled my pockets with as many useful items as they would hold and fastened them securely with safety pins. Schmidt was talking –
something about Cairo – but I cut him off. ‘Let’s go.’