Night Train to Memphis (23 page)

Schmidt almost choked in his attempt to stop wheezing. Before he could protest I said, ‘I don’t care what you do, Schmidt, but I’m copping out. Where’s the rest
house?’

Everybody voted for the rest house, so we returned to the entrance and got onto one of the cars of the tram. The sun was now high enough to bleach all the colour from the cliffs, turning them a
pale tan. Not that there was much colour to begin with – only the clear blue sky overhead and the garish garb of some of the tourists.

Schmidt was on his second lemonade – he wanted beer, but I wouldn’t let him have it – when Larry, with whom I had been discussing tomb reliefs, broke off in mid-sentence. With
a murmured ‘Excuse me,’ he rose and headed for the door.

Schroeder, hat in hand, bald head shining with sweat, awaited him. I thought it was a little odd that the man hadn’t joined us, and I wasn’t the only one to wonder. Everyone stopped
talking and stared. Everyone except John. After a quick glance at Schroeder he leaned back and lowered his eyes. He hadn’t spoken since we sat down.

After a few minutes Schroeder left and Larry returned, shaking his head and smiling. ‘He takes his duties too seriously, as I keep telling him. Some unimportant detail about
tonight’s reception.’

‘How long has he been with you?’ I asked guilelessly.

‘Let’s see . . .’ He turned to the omnipresent Ed. ‘How long has it been? A couple of years?’

‘’Bout that.’ Ed returned to his beer. He was not much of a conversationalist.

If Ed could remember when Schroeder signed on, he had been with Larry even longer than two years. I reminded myself that I was no longer interested in details like that.

Schmidt polished off another lemonade and two candy bars, and announced he was ready to resume the tour. I was trying to think of a way of taking him out of it when Larry said, ‘It’s
too nice a day to spend underground. How about taking the path to Deir el Bahri, Vicky? It’s in the bay south of here, over that range of hills, and the view of the temple from above is
wonderful. The bus could pick us up there, couldn’t it, Feisal?’

Feisal nodded and Schmidt exclaimed, ‘Good, good. An excellent idea! I will come too.’

‘But Herr Direktor,’ Feisal protested, ‘it is a long, hard walk. Forty-five minutes . . .’ He eyed Schmidt’s rotund shape dubiously and added, ‘Or
longer.’

What was more, Schmidt hadn’t been invited. I didn’t waste my breath mentioning this. The walk might be the lesser of two evils. It couldn’t be more taxing for Schmidt than the
hot dusty airlessness of the tombs.

‘We’ll take it easy,’ Larry said, with a reassuring nod at me.

‘An enticing prospect,’ said John. ‘I’ll join you, if I may.’

‘Yes, a walk would be lovely,’ Mary said eagerly.

‘No.’ He turned to her. ‘It would be too strenuous for you, in your condition.’

Mary’s jaw dropped and a charming blush spread over her face. I don’t know what my face looked like, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t charming.

‘Anyone else?’ Larry asked, after a moment of embarrassed silence. ‘All right, then, we’ll see you all later.’

Ed hadn’t said a word, but I was not surprised to find him making up one of our party. He tried to give Schmidt a hand during the first and most difficult part of the hike, the steep climb
up from the Valley, but was huffily rebuffed. Once we had reached the top, Schmidt mopped his perspiring brow and gasped triumphantly, ‘Ha! Such a fuss you make over a little walk. If you had
climbed the Zugspitze and the Matterhorn . . .’ His breath gave out, so he left it there, and we all looked impressed except John, who was grinning like an idiot.

We admired the view for longer than it deserved, to give Schmidt time to recover, and Larry pointed out the locations of other tombs. Pale in the sunlight, the great pyramid-shaped peak called
the Lady of the West rose over the valley it guarded.

The next part of the walk led across the rocky summit of the plateau. The path was rough but level, and Schmidt charged valiantly ahead. John kept pace with him. I started to quicken my step.
Larry took my arm. ‘I want to talk to you, Vicky. That’s why I suggested this.’

I glanced over my shoulder. Ed was some distance behind, hands in his pockets.

‘What about?’ I asked.

Larry lowered his voice. ‘About a mutual friend. His name is Burckhardt.’

I stumbled over a stone no bigger than a Ping-Pong ball. Larry’s hand steadied me. ‘Sorry. You didn’t know?’

‘I don’t know a damn thing,’ I sputtered. ‘That son of a polecat Burck – ’

‘Let’s not mention the name again, okay? Don’t get the wrong idea, Vicky.’ His face wrinkled in an attractive, deprecating smile. ‘I haven’t been leading a
double life, like some superhero in the comics. I was informed of the situation by the Egyptian government. They know how intensively I have worked for better relations between Egypt and the West,
and how deeply I care about the wonderful antiquities of this country. The announcement I will make this evening . . . Well, you’ll hear that in due course. The idea that someone could use
this trip as a cover for activities designed to destroy everything I’ve worked for . . .’

‘I understand.’

‘I know you do. And I can’t tell you how much I – all of us – appreciate what you’re doing. It was for your own protection that I was told not to contact you
earlier. Now things have changed.’

‘That’s why Mr Schroeder came,’ I said. ‘To tell you – ’

‘That the refrigerating unit didn’t break down, Vicky. It was a deliberate act of sabotage. It can’t be repaired, it will have to be replaced. God knows how long that will
take. The tour will have to be cancelled. Hamid will make the announcement when we return at noon. You see what that means, don’t you?’

My eyes were fixed on Schmidt, who was gesturing animatedly. A sound like the howl of a coyote drifted to my ears. I caught a few of the words; they had to do with heaven, mama, and train
whistles.

‘I’m not sure I do,’ I said slowly. ‘What alternatives will the passengers be offered – aside from a refund of the fare?’

‘That, of course. But I expect most of them will choose to remain in Luxor for a few days, since this is the high point of the tour. Fortunately – or unfortunately, from the
viewpoint of the tourism industry – there are plenty of hotel rooms empty. After that . . .’

He looked expectantly at me. ‘Some may decide to return to Cairo,’ I muttered. ‘Sooner or later everybody will end up in Cairo. Where the museum is.’

‘Yes. Vicky, have you any idea of who these people are?’

‘Yeah.’ I gestured. ‘Him.’

Schmidt and John had stopped, waiting for us to join them.

‘Not Anton!’ Larry exclaimed.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Him.’ I couldn’t pronounce his name.

‘Mr Tregarth?’ Larry sounded almost as incredulous. He slowed his steps. ‘But he’s a well-known – ’

‘Crook. I’ve encountered him before. I don’t know who the others are; he’s the only one I recognized.’

‘Surely he wouldn’t bring his pregnant bride along.’ Larry looked shocked.

‘Excellent cover, wouldn’t you say?’

I heard John laugh. Schmidt had taught him a new one. A few words floated back to me: ‘When I woke up, I had shackles on my feet . . .’

‘Come. Vicky, hurry, why are you so slow?’ Schmidt yelled. ‘It is a glorious view.’

‘One more thing,’ Larry said quickly. ‘I want you to stay with me while you’re in Luxor. I have a house here, you know – ’

‘Of course I know. You’re holding the reception there, right?’

‘Right. You’ll be safer there than in a hotel. Anton too, of course.’

Schmidt has twenty-twenty hearing. ‘What about me?’ he demanded.

‘I’ll tell you later, Schmidt,’ I said. ‘It’s a surprise.’

Schmidt loves surprises. Beaming, he demanded that I admire the view.

The temple of the female pharaoh, Hatshepsut, lay below, its colonnades and courtyards sharp-etched by shadow and sunlight. It is probably the most graceful, perfectly proportioned structure in
Egypt. I had looked forward to seeing it.

But not under these circumstances. Beside me, hands in his pockets, hair shining like silver-gilt, John was humming wider his breath. ‘‘‘It takes a worried man to sing a
worried song . . . I’m worried now – but I won’t be worried long.’”

That’s what he thought.

I

H
AMID WAITED
until we had assembled for lunch before making the announcement. There was the usual chorus of complaints
from certain parties, but the sputtering and shouts of ‘Outrageous’ faded as Hamid went on to outline the alternatives. They were a good deal more generous than most companies would
have offered.

That afternoon we would be transferred to the Winter Palace Hotel – all expenses paid of course. After the prearranged four days in the Theban area, passengers who wished to do so could
board another cruise ship for Aswan, where they would spend several days before sailing back to Luxor. They might instead opt to return to Cairo by air for a two-week stay at Mena House or one of
the four-star Cairo hotels.

‘What do you say, Vicky?’ Schmidt demanded. ‘What shall we do? Me, I vote for Cairo. Aswan is sehr interresant, but except for the nobles’ tombs – ’

‘We don’t have to make up our minds this minute.’

I couldn’t take my eyes off John. His face was as bland and uninformative as an oyster as he listened to Hamid. I had no doubt what his decision would be. He had known this would happen;
he must have had a hand in arranging it. Mary was watching him too, her expression faintly troubled. She wouldn’t be consulted, but if I had been in her shoes (which God forbid), I’d
have had my own reasons for preferring Cairo.

Shotgun wedding, I thought, savouring the ugly phrase. Mary’s daddy must be some guy. But he could never have cornered such an expert at elusion if John hadn’t had his own reasons
for embracing matrimony. The ripe, juicy chunk of mango I was chewing tasted like sand as the inevitable calculations reeled off in my head. At least six weeks before she could be sure, maybe
longer – a few more weeks making the arrangements for the wedding . . .

Months. It must have been going on for months. The same months during which he had . . . visited . . . me. While I sat there like some slack-jawed idiot in a country music ballad, bein’
true to my man.

I swallowed the loathsome morsel with a loud gulping sound. Schmidt looked at me in alarm. ‘Was ist’s? Are you going to be sick? You cannot be sick now, we have much –
’

‘I’m not sick, dammit! Stop fussing, Schmidt. Let’s go and pack.’

My elegantly appointed room and pretty little balcony had never looked more appealing. So much for that luxury tour I’d been promised; I’d never had the chance to enjoy it. Mother
had always told me that if an offer seemed too good to be true it probably was.

The prospect of being Larry’s house guest offered some consolation. (It would certainly impress my mother.) I’d seen photographs of his Luxor establishment in some magazine; it
wasn’t just a house, it was a whole estate, with beautiful gardens and a swimming pool and all the other odds and ends rich people consider necessary to happiness.

And I would be far far away from John and his pregnant bride.

I am not a neat packer, and my mood that day was not conducive to order and method; I tossed things at random into the bags and put them by the door. After a final check of closets and drawers
to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, I opened the safe.

The reels of tape were gone.

I was squatting in front of the safe, fumbling in its interior in the hope of finding something – a gun, a message, a box of chocolates, anything to indicate interest – when the
telephone rang. I snatched it up and yelled, ‘What do you want, Schmidt?’

‘I’m afraid it’s only me,’ an apologetic voice murmured.

‘Larry?’

‘Yes. You are going to accept my invitation, I hope. I intended to repeat it in person, but you left the dining room before I could speak to you.’

He had meant it, then. A little quiver ran through me, a mixture of pleasure, relief, and renewed alarm. The situation must be serious if he was anxious to get me to a safe place without delay.
‘It’s very kind of you. Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure it’s the best possible place for you.’

He didn’t have to spell it out. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Thank you. What about Schmidt?’

‘I’ve already spoken to him. He said he’d come if you did. So it’s settled. We’ll meet in the lobby in, say, half an hour?’

There was no point in hanging around my room, so I headed for the lounge. I expected to find Schmidt there, since Hamid had announced the bar would be open – a final farewell to the
Queen of the Nile
, for those who chose to take advantage of it. Schmidt hadn’t chosen, but several of the others had, including Alice and Feisal, who were engaged in earnest
conversation. I joined them.

‘So what’s going to happen to you guys?’ I asked.

‘All friends must part at last,’ said Feisal with a theatrical sigh. ‘We part sooner than I had hoped; but not for a few more days. I will remain with the tour here in
Luxor.’