Night Train to Memphis (42 page)

‘Ruhig sein, my poor friend,’ Schmidt said. ‘All is well. You are safe with – ’

‘All is not well.’ John raised himself on one elbow. ‘What have – ’

‘Rest and sleep,’ Schmidt insisted, trying to push him back down.

‘No, have something to drink. You’re probably dehydrated.’ I shoved Schmidt away and held a glass to John’s lips.

‘Yes, that is probably better,’ Schmidt agreed.

‘Oh, Christ. Will you two stop picking at me like dogs over a bone? I’ll submit to your infernal attentions as soon as Schmidt tells me what wild story he gave Kendrick.’

‘Richard is himself again,’ I remarked.

‘Richard is a hell of a long way from being himself. Which is lucky for you. Schmidt – ’

‘Why, I told him the truth, of course.’

‘Oh, God.’ John collapsed back onto the hard pillow.

‘That you had discovered a plot directed against the museum and were on your way to Cairo to disclose it, with the villains in hot pursuit,’ Schmidt went on.

‘In those exact words, I suppose.’ He let out an involuntary sigh as I began wiping his face with a wet cloth. ‘Well, it could be worse. You didn’t go into
detail?’

‘I told him no more than that,’ Schmidt said indignantly. ‘It is an old rule of espionage, the need to know. Besides, he would have thought me verrückt if I had told him
the entire truth. And now you must rest. Perhaps a sleeping pill, eh? I have with me – ’

‘No pills,’ I said. ‘He’s taken too many already.’

Feisal and Keith returned at that point. ‘How is he?’ the latter asked, squatting beside the bed. ‘God Almighty. How did he – ’

‘A slight accident,’ John said. ‘I’m prone to them. Especially when I’m in the company of certain people.’

‘If he’s complaining he’s back to normal,’ said Feisal. He shoved a heap of garments off the chair and sat down.

‘You all look as if you could use a drink,’ Keith said. ‘I’ve got a bottle of bourbon.’

‘And there is beer,’ Schmidt offered. ‘I brought with me – ’

‘Beer, of course,’ I said. ‘Where there’s Schmidt there’s always beer. Sorry, boys, but we are not going to have a party. Everybody out. He needs to
rest.’

‘Just . . . one more thing.’ John’s brief burst of energy was fading. He forced his eyes open. ‘Schmidt. How did you get here?’

‘Why, by the train of course. My cryptic message to you – ’

‘Was received and deciphered,’ John said gravely. ‘Which train?’

‘It left Luxor at six in the evening. It tore my heart in two to leave you, Vicky, before I could know whether you had succeeded in your courageous rescue, but I felt certain you would,
and if you did not, I could serve you best by going for help as quickly as possible. So – ’

‘You left the hotel shortly after I did.’ I was beginning to understand what was on John’s mind, and to share the wild curiosity that kept him conscious. ‘I suppose you
were . . . disguised?’

‘Aber natürlich. They might have been watching for us at the station. Would you like to see how I disguised myself?’

‘I can hardly wait,’ John murmured.

Schmidt rummaged among the articles on the table. He was too pleased with himself simply to display the garments; he had to put them on – a long, dusty black robe, a headcloth of the same
colour, and an opaque veil that covered his face from the bridge of his nose to the end of his chin.

‘I wore also my contact lenses,’ said the chubby little Egyptian woman in a muffled voice. ‘They made my eyes water very much because the windows of the car were open and there
was a great deal of dust and sand. Such a useful costume, eh? I did not even have to cut off my moustache, though I would have done it, Vicky, if . . . What is wrong?’

‘He’s fainted,’ I said. I didn’t blame him.

He felt cooler after I had sponged him off, and he had passed from unconsciousness to what seemed to be normal sleep. After washing the parts of me that showed, and a few that
didn’t, I went into the next room, where the party was in full swing.

Schmidt jumped up from his chair. From
the
chair, I should say; there was only one. ‘Beer or bourbon, Vicky?’

‘Neither. I . . . Oh, what the hell. Bourbon.’

‘You should rest too.’ Schmidt assisted me into the chair and patted me.

‘I will. After we’ve decided what to do next.’

‘At the moment our options are somewhat limited,’ Feisal said dryly. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor. In his rumpled, dusty clothes, his face dark with a day’s growth
of beard, no one would have known him for the well-groomed young professional of the
Queen of the Nile.
We’ll have to stay here till Johnny’s fit again. When will he –
’

‘How the hell should I know?’ I took a swallow, shuddered, and took another one. ‘Sorry, Feisal, I didn’t mean to snap at you. If he’s not better – a lot
better – by tomorrow, I’ll get him to a doctor. You may have to help me; if he’s conscious he won’t go voluntarily. Then you and Schmidt will have to proceed without us. It
would probably be best for you to separate; that doubles the chance that one person will get through.’

Feisal gave me an odd look and nodded, without comment. Schmidt said, ‘But, Vicky – ’

‘Shut up, Schmidt.’ The bourbon was great stuff. My brain was really clicking; I felt like a combination of Einstein and Ms Super Spy, ready for anything. ‘We can’t stay
here long. For one thing, Keith could get in deep trouble if the cops find out he sheltered us.’

‘Once the truth comes out he will be a hero.’ Schmidt twirled his moustache and added happily, ‘Like the rest of us.’

‘
If
the truth comes out. Please don’t argue, Schmidt, I figure I’m good for about ten more minutes and although I’m dying to hear about your train ride and why
Keith is indebted to John and how the hell we all ended up here where none of us expected to be, all that can wait. The whole village must know we’re here. Sooner or later someone will turn
us in; any group of people has a few potential informers. I’d rather take my chances with the police than with – with the other guys. If they locate us first . . .’

I raised the glass to my lips. It was empty. No wonder I was starting to feel so peculiar. ‘I am not drunk,’ I said. Slowly and with dignity I slid from the perpendicular to the
diagonal. I think it was Feisal who caught me.

I woke twice during what would have been the night if I had gotten to bed at a decent hour. On both occasions the room was light; on both occasions I found myself on my knees
beside the bed, fumbling at John’s face, before I came fully awake. The first time he felt hot so I sponged him off, getting only an irritable mumble as thanks. The second time he was
shivering, so I covered him up, and then returned to the rug some kind soul had put beside the bed, promising myself I’d just rest for a few more minutes . . .

The next time I woke up the temperature had risen a good forty degrees. My clothes were sticking to me and my mouth felt like a desert path along which a lot of camels had passed. Keith stood in
the open doorway, a tray in his hands.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he said. ‘I was just getting him some coffee.’

John was sitting up trying to look debonair, which isn’t easy for a man who is unshaven, dirty, half-naked, and in somebody else’s bed. I have to give him credit; he almost carried
it off.

‘You look very fetching,’ he remarked. ‘If you ask me nicely I might even share my coffee with you.’

I sat up, observing for the first time that the garment sticking to my sweating body was a white robe trimmed with gold. Schmidt must have stopped at the shops on his way to the station. I hoped
it was he who had undressed me.

‘I’ll – uh – I’ll just get another cup.’ Keith retreated.

‘Tactful lad,’ John said. ‘Aren’t you going to come here and soothe my fevered brow?’

I crawled to the bed and touched his forehead. ‘It is warm.’

His hand slid up my arm inside the loose sleeve. ‘So are you. So is the climate of Upper Egypt.’

‘You look terrible.’

His fingers tightened, drawing me closer. ‘“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.”’

‘The mind has very little to do with it,’ I said wryly.

‘If I were as ill-mannered as some people,’ said my beloved, ‘I would point out that you aren’t at your best just now either. But you’re my darling, you’re my
sunshine, and I won’t stop loving you when your hair has turned to silver. Can you say less?’

‘No fair. That’s at least two different songs.’

‘Answer the question.’

‘What question?’

I hadn’t supposed we’d be left alone for long, and I would have bet money on the identity of the next visitor. John let go of me and I sat back on my heels.

‘Ah,’ said Schmidt, pleased. ‘You are feeling better.’

‘I hope you aren’t going to make a habit of this, Schmidt,’ John said.

‘No, no. Don’t mind me. Just go on with – ’

‘Give me the coffee, Schmidt,’ I said.

Schmidt did so and then seated himself. ‘If you don’t want to make love some more, then perhaps we should talk, eh? Yes, that is best. You must save your strength, my friend. Making
love is weakening to the vital forces of even a man who is in perfect health, and making love with a woman like Vicky – ’

‘Uh – right,’ John said. ‘If you don’t mind, Schmidt, we ought to turn our attention to more pressing matters than my vital forces. What’s been going on in
the great outside world? I seem to have wasted the day in slothful slumber.’

‘It was not wasted,’ Schmidt assured him. ‘You needed to recover your strength. Perhaps we will be able to go on tomorrow morning. Assuming, of course, that you and Vicky do
not – ’

‘Shut up, Schmidt,’ I said automatically.

I would have liked to give John a hand with his toilette (without engaging in any of the debilitating activities Schmidt had mentioned) but the only way I could get Schmidt out of the room was
to take him out.

It was later than I had realized. Schmidt had the right idea; John needed another night’s rest before we could continue our journey and we needed clothes, nourishment and, above all, more
information before we decided how to proceed.

Feisal had gone out in search of the last. Keith was brewing something on a two-burner hot plate; when he asked if I was hungry I said I’d wait for the others.

‘I’m sorry we descended on you like this,’ I added. ‘We’ll try to make it up to you.’

Keith turned down the burner and squatted beside my chair. I remembered now where I had seen him – talking to Schmidt, the day the tour visited Amarna. Schmidt would, of course, view that
brief encounter as the beginning of a beautiful friendship. What were friends for if not to help their friends in an emergency? Maybe this development would cure Keith of talking to strangers.

‘I have to admit I thought Dr Schmidt had lost his marbles when he turned up with a wild story about robbing the Cairo Museum.’ Keith glanced at Schmidt, who was sitting on the floor
next to the rug where the dog lay. The dog’s tail was flopping up and down and Schmidt was talking to him in German. ‘But when he said Mr Tregarth was meeting him, I figured it was all
right. I hope I didn’t offend Mr Tregarth when I mentioned his generosity, he asked to remain anonymous when he offered to support my work here for an additional month.’

‘He’s a very modest man,’ I said. ‘When did he do that?’

‘About six weeks ago. I had permission to work here, but I only had enough funding for a month, with strict economy. Now I can finish my survey.’

I let him tell me about the survey, nodding and smiling at appropriate moments. I don’t believe in coincidences; it was reassuring to know that this wasn’t one. John’s
‘generosity’ had been nothing of the sort. Having been informed of Blenkiron’s plans he had realized he would need all the allies he could find, and he had had to pick someone who
already had the EAO’s permission to work at a given site, since official permission wasn’t easily or quickly achieved. He must have planned to leave the cruise at Amarna, and he had
undoubtedly prepared a plausible story to win Keith’s cooperation. My arrival had put an end to that scheme; he hadn’t even bothered to approach Keith during our visit. But Schmidt had,
and nice indiscreet Keith must have told Schmidt about his generous patron, and Schmidt had assumed that when he indicated Amarna as our meeting place, John would go to Keith.

As he had. So far Schmidt was way ahead of the rest of us. He had known exactly what he was doing. I still didn’t know what I was doing.

Tiring of Schmidt’s attentions, the dog wandered over to inspect me. He was a nondescript creature, like all the other pathetic strays, except that his ribs weren’t showing and he
seemed to trust people.

‘What happens to him when you leave?’ I asked, scratching Fido behind his ear.

‘He’s not mine. One of the Egypt Exploration Society people adopted him a couple of years ago – they come out for a few months every winter – and the custodian looks
after him when they’re away. He must prefer Boston baked beans to rice, though, because he’s been hanging around me since I got here. I’m afraid that’s the main course
tonight,’ he added with a grin. ‘My commissariat isn’t extensive.’

I assured him I shared Fido’s passion for baked beans.

‘I’ll get to it, then,’ Keith said, unfolding himself and rising. ‘Feisal should be back any minute. I hope Mr Tregarth is better. I’ve never seen injuries quite
like those. It’s almost as if someone deliberately . . .’

‘I don’t think you want to know the details,’ I said. ‘It’s not because we don’t trust you.’

‘That’s okay. The less I know, et cetera. Here’s Feisal,’ he added. ‘Baked beans coming up.’

Schmidt rushed to greet Feisal. ‘Sehr gut, mein Freund, you are safely returned. What is happening?’

‘It could be worse,’ Feisal admitted. ‘The whole damned village knows we’re here, of course.’

‘How did you explain our presence?’ I asked. I know small towns; gossip is a favourite sport and personal questions aren’t considered rude, just friendly.

Feisal ran his fingers through his dusty hair and squatted down on the floor. ‘I said I’d been hired to drive a couple of Kendrick’s archaeological friends, who had come to
visit him for a few days. Nobody questioned the story, but the sooner we move on the better. How’s Johnny?’