Night Train to Memphis (35 page)

‘A good question.’ John rubbed his forehead. ‘How many of the local gendarmes are in Blenkiron’s pay, Feisal?’

‘Too many,’ was the blunt response. ‘He’s got enough money to buy several medium-sized countries, much less a few poor devils who are trying to raise families on
inadequate salaries. Some of them are honest, but I don’t know which, and the honest ones think he’s the greatest thing to come along since King Tut’s tomb. If it’s our word
against his, we haven’t a prayer.’

‘I’ve a little more than that,’ John murmured. ‘But I think we’ll have to take it to Cairo – straight to the Ministry and the EAO.’

‘They’ll be watching the airport and the train station,’ Feisal said soberly. ‘I assume they know you’re on the loose.’

‘You assume correctly. We’ll have to go by road.’

‘I don’t own a car’,’ Feisal said. ‘And don’t suggest I steal one. I’m in enough trouble already.’

‘How much money have we?’ John asked.

It added up to more than I had realized. Grimacing but game, Feisal contributed his hard-earned savings – a few hundred pounds Egyptian. John had only a few pounds in his wallet. Being
broke when payment was required was an old habit of his, but in this case I refrained from caustic comment. He hadn’t had a chance to pick up his luggage before we left.

‘Schmidt will have money,’ I said. ‘He was going to cash more traveller’s cheques.’ John started to speak, but I cut him off. ‘I’m not leaving without
Schmidt. We’ll have to collect him before we go.’

‘Of course,’ John said, raising one eyebrow. ‘You didn’t suppose I’d throw Schmidt to the wolves, did you? And before you burst into a fiery denunciation, let me
remind you that it was I who got him out of that bloody house and into . . . I hope to God he’s not still at the winter Palace?’

‘No. He – ’

‘Hold on.’ He handed Feisal the roll of bills. ‘You’ll have to hire the vehicle, Feisal.’

‘They’ll be looking for me too,’ Feisal objected.

‘Not as assiduously as they will be looking for us. Try to find one that has four wheels and some rudimentary brakes if you can. And don’t dawdle.’

Feisal went out, shaking his head. Granny, bless her heart, was still trying to make up for being so mean to me. She had been trotting in and out with trays and bottles.

‘Now,’ John said, reaching for a beer. ‘Tell me what happened after Maxie sprang you.’

‘Should you be drinking alcohol?’

‘I certainly shouldn’t be drinking the local water. Please try to concentrate on essentials, my dear. We don’t have much time and I need to know what’s been going on.
Where did you run into Schmidt? Obviously he didn’t succeed in intercepting you.’

‘Obviously. But he was waiting when I came out.’ I gave him a brief synopsis of succeeding events to which he listened with amused and infuriatingly detached interest.

‘Good old Schmidt. We’ll have to get someone to present him with a medal and kiss him on both cheeks. He’d love that.’

‘I’ll settle for getting him out of this in one piece. I don’t trust him, John. If I don’t turn up pretty soon he’s apt to go looking for me. Trying to sneak into
the institute disguised as James Bond, or – ’

‘I hardly think even Schmidt would do anything so useless. He must realize his best hope of helping you is to blow the whistle on Blenkiron. How much does he know?’

‘Uh – ’

John said something under his breath. Then he said it out loud.

‘Dammit,’ I said defensively, ‘there wasn’t time for a leisurely discussion! He said he thought he knew and I said I did too and then . . . Uh.’

‘What do you think you know?’ John inquired very softly.

‘Well . . . I assume Larry’s using the
Queen of the Nile
to transport his loot. He had to get rid of the tour group so he could make a quick run, no stops, no delays. The
reason for the changes in schedule really was concern about low water levels, he has to get through the locks – ’

‘The schedule wasn’t changed. It was the one he intended all along.’

‘You knew – ’

‘No, I did not. Never mind that, it’s a side issue. You are correct so far. Once the boat reaches Cairo the loot – how well you put it! – will be transferred to the
airport.

I’m sure I hardly need mention that Blenkiron owns one or two airlines.’

‘Or that the Luxor airport is too small for big cargo planes?’

‘Clever girl.’

‘How long will it take him – ’

The sound of someone at the door made me break off. It was Feisal. ‘A friend of mine has gone after the car,’ he announced. ‘He’ll bring it by in an hour or
so.’

‘We’d better be ready to leave when he arrives,’ John said.

He pulled the robe over his head. Feisal sucked in his breath. ‘You need a doctor. Or a hospital.’

‘Oh, right,’ John said. ‘I can see myself explaining how I absentmindedly walked into a sausage slicer. What I need is a clean shirt.’

Dried blood had glued the fabric to his skin in a number of places. For once he resisted the temptation to overact, peeling the garment off with only a few manfully repressed groans. The full
effect, which I now saw for the first time, was grisly enough to require no additional theatrics. Feisal winced and averted his eyes. Sympathetic he may have been, but I had a feeling that he was
picturing himself in the same condition. I also suspected that John was well aware of the effect on his reluctant ally. A visual demonstration is worth a thousand words.

I didn’t volunteer to administer first aid. I was outvoted. It wasn’t the first time I had patched John up after a work-related accident. Some of the others had required more
extensive first aid, but this was worse – deliberate sadism instead of random violence. The less said about that process, the better. John was obliging enough to make a lot of noise, which
made it a little easier for me. A little.

‘Now what?’ I inquired, tossing the roll of tape and the scissors onto the bed. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any wigs, fake moustaches, and miscellaneous disguises
around, Feisal?’ John was still muttering profanely, but he couldn’t resist the chance to instruct the ignorant. He began, ‘The art of disguise – ’

‘I don’t want to hear you lecture on the subject of disguise.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Feisal. ‘But she has a point. I could go out and get – ’

‘No time,’ John said. ‘As I was saying, the art of disguise depends on posture and mannerisms rather than crude physical alterations. Let’s see what you’ve got on
hand.’

Fitting John out wasn’t a problem; he and Feisal were about the same size. Feisal objected violently when John selected his best Cairo-tailored suit, but he was overruled.
‘I’ve got to look like a respectable businessman when I go in after Schmidt. Or are you volunteering for that little job?’

‘No,’ Feisal said unhesitatingly.

‘A wise decision. They’ll be checking the hotels by now if they haven’t already done so. I intend to be as unobtrusive as possible, but – ’

‘You’ll have to dye your hair, then,’ Feisal said. After John’s demonstration of what might happen to him if we were caught he was cooperating wholeheartedly, if not
happily. ‘And your eyebrows.’

‘I don’t suppose you have any boot polish?’

‘I don’t polish my own shoes,’ Feisal said haughtily.

‘Do forgive me,’ John said. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you did anything so vulgar. You’ll have to wind me a nice neat turban, then. Dark glasses will look a little out
of place at this time of night. The honoured sitt your grandmother must have some kohl or other eye paint?’

I must say it was an education to watch him work. He didn’t use much of the black stuff, whatever it was – just enough to darken his eyebrows and touch up those long lashes. He
tanned easily; I had seen other Egyptians with skin as fair as his. Once the turban was in place, the difference in his appearance was astounding. It was partly a matter of expression – tight
lips, out-thrust chin, lowering brows.

‘What about your beautiful, beautiful blue eyes?’ I asked.

His response was automatic – ‘“I’ll never love brown eyes again – ”’ and then he laughed shortly. ‘A truer word was never spoken. As for my
beautiful blue eyes, I don’t intend to stand still long enough for anyone to gaze deeply into them. Now what are we going to do about you?’

‘Maybe Granny could lend me a robe and a veil.’

John shook his head. ‘You’re too tall to pass as an Egyptian female. It’s male attire for you, I’m afraid. Your bonnie blue eyes are beyond my modest skill –
’

‘“You told me more lies than the stars in the . . .” Sorry. Don’t take it personally. Country music does have a thing about blue eyes, doesn’t it?’

Feisal was staring at us as if we had lost our minds. He was probably right. John had that effect on me.

‘So far the score is tied,’ said John. ‘As I was saying, we’ve got to do something about your hair.’

‘Cut it off,’ I said, reaching for the scissors. ‘Then Feisal can wind me a turban too.’

John took the scissors from me. ‘Sit down. I’ll do it.’

‘I should have known you numbered barbering among your varied skills.’

His hands moved slowly from the crown of my head to the base of my sknll, smoothing the tangled masses of hair and gathering them together. There was a long pause before he said,
‘I’ve a better idea. A spot of cosmic cleansing wouldn’t do you any harm.’

‘What are you talking about?’ I tried to turn, but he closed his fingers around the impromptu ponytail and gave it a hard tug.

‘Communing with the universe, awakening the collective consciousness of the world,’ John chanted. ‘You’re not quite grubby enough for a New Ager, but that’s easy to
fix.’

When he finished fixing it, I was a dirty blonde with a long lank ponytail and a distinct four o’clock shadow. The dirt and the beard came from the garden, the single gold earring from
Granny, and the collarless long-sleeved shirt from Feisal. Entering into the spirit of the thing, I demanded a crystal and a pair of cutoffs.

‘We’ll pick up some mystic insignia at one of the bazaars,’ John said. ‘These types go in for scarabs and ankh signs and such. The shorts are out. Your knees aren’t
knobby enough.’

‘You might have expressed it in more flattering terms,’ I said.

‘Your legs, my darling, are masterpieces of sculptural elegance,’ John said agreeably. ‘Those appendages would grace an Aphrodite or a young Diana. Never could such marvels of
slender rounded beauty be taken for those of a man. Your form, in short, is rare and divine.’

‘“Philadelphia Lawyer,”’ I said.

John raised one finger and made an invisible mark on the air. ‘One point for you.’

Feisal’s friend was a shy, retiring chap. As soon as we left the house in response to his signal on the horn, he slid out of the driver’s seat of the car and walked away without
looking back. If he wanted to make certain neither John or I could identify him, he succeeded.

As for the car, I had seen its likes before – in junkyards or abandoned in vacant lots. If it had been in good condition it would have ranked as a vintage vehicle; those tailfins had to be
thirty years out of date.

‘Good God,’ John said, staring. ‘Is this the best he could do? We won’t get twenty miles in this wreck.’

‘I hope you won’t think me rude,’ said Feisal, ‘if I remind you that you are in no position to be fastidious, and that you sound like a typical supercilious twit of a
tourist. We underprivileged Third World types can’t afford a new car every year, so we learn how to keep them on the road.’

‘Touché,’ John admitted. ‘After you, Vicky.’

He handed me the basket Granny had pressed upon us. It was our only luggage except for Feisal’s suitcase.

Feisal got in behind the wheel. ‘Where to?’ he asked.

‘The ETAP.’

‘Oh, wonderful. The big tourist hotels are the first places they’ll look.’

‘Just drive,’ John said shortly.

Schmidt had given me one of his keys, ‘just in case.’ I hadn’t asked, ‘Just in case of what?’ I had had other things on my mind. As I crossed the lobby, trying to
look as if I were focusing on auras instead of potential kidnappers, I wished I had asked. There was no need for him to leave the room except to cash his traveller’s cheques, which
wouldn’t take long, and every reason for him to stay put. Even if they located him they couldn’t get at him unless he opened the door, and surely Schmidt wouldn’t be foolish
enough to admit anyone except . . . Except the room service? Someone imitating my voice?

John had gone ahead. He was waiting by the elevator when I got out of it. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

I didn’t ask how he could tell. He could always tell. ‘I’m having premonitions,’ I admitted.

‘It’s always best to assume the worst.’ He took the key from me. ‘Stand out of the way.’

He gave the door a sharp kick and dropped to a crouching position. ‘That’s what they do in the films,’ he remarked, straightening. ‘Futile, really, when you consider that
most criminals use automatic weapons these days, but I suppose they believe it looks – ’

‘He’s not here. Damn the crazy old idiot, where the hell has he got to now?’

The doors to the bathroom and closet stood open. The import of that didn’t dawn on me until after we had investigated all possible hiding places; my morbid imagination was convinced
we’d find Schmidt’s crumpled body in the bathtub or under the bed.

‘He must have left under his own steam; there’s no sign of a struggle,’ I said. ‘If he’s gone back to Larry’s, looking for me, I’ll kill him.’

‘He’s not gone there,’ John said.

‘What?’ I spun around. He was bending over the desk. ‘How do you know?’

‘He’s left you a note.’

The paper had been crumpled and then smoothed out. It was so badly stained by something brown and sticky that the words were barely legible.

‘My dear Vicky,’ it began. (I translate; he had written in German.) ‘I have the proof we need. I will drop this off at your hotel and then proceed to the rendezvous we . .
.’

‘What is this?’ I demanded. ‘What proof? He never mentioned it to me. What hotel? What rendezvous?’

‘Calm down.’ John seated himself at the desk ‘Let’s see if we can figure out what he’s up to.’