One hard tug snapped the chain. I threw the ornament across the room, stepped into the shower, and turned it on full blast.
I didn’t hear the pounding at the door till I turned off the water. It had to be Schmidt; nobody else would make such a racket. I might have expected he’d notice my absence and come looking for me. I swathed my dripping body and my bruises in a terry-cloth robe and went to open the door. He’d continue beating on it until I did.
He must have used shoe polish or some other water-soluble substance on his moustache. It had run, leaving long black streaks down his cheeks. He looked like Fu Manchu.
‘Ah,’ he exclaimed, looking me over critically. ‘You have been sick.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I know the look,’ said Schmidt. ‘Let me in. I will take care of you.’
I sighed and stepped back. ‘I don’t need you to take care of me, Schmidt, I just need to go to bed.’
‘Yes, that is true. We must be up at dawn, for the visit to Abydos. I will put you to bed.’
I laughed and started to protest. The laugh was a mistake. It stretched my lower lip and the cut opened up again. Schmidt’s face softened, and he said, in a voice he seldom used even to me, his favourite flunky, ‘You have done it for me, Vicky, when I was sick or hurting. Let me do something now for you.’
I bent my head to keep him from seeing the tears that stung my eyes. ‘Okay,’ I muttered. ‘Thanks, Schmidt. Just don’t suggest a glass of beer to settle my stomach.’
‘It is very good for a weak stomach,’ Schmidt said seriously. ‘However, I have something better. I will get it while you put on your nightgown. Unless you would like me to help you?’
He gave me a giggle and a leer and trotted out without waiting for an answer. I had time to change and hide the reddening bruises before he got back. He was so sweet and solicitous I swallowed the ghastly stuff he gave me without a whimper, and accepted a sleeping pill as well. After he had tucked me in he stood by the bed looking down at me.
‘Do you want to tell me what is wrong?’
I turned my head away. ‘Nothing’s wrong, Schmidt. I over-indulged, that’s all.’
‘Hmph,’ said Schmidt.
‘Good night, Schmidt. And thanks.’
‘Schlaf’ wohl, Vicky. And do not worry. Farther along we will know all about whatever it may be.’
He had deliberately garbled the quote to make me smile, so I smiled; he patted me clumsily on the shoulder and trotted out, leaving the bedside lamp burning. After he had gone I reached to turn it off. The rose pendant lay on the table, with the broken chain coiled around it like a tiny golden snake.
IV
I’d forgotten to leave a wake-up call, but Schmidt remembered. A good thing, too; I am not used to sleeping pills and I’d have snored on until mid-morning if he hadn’t telephoned to say he was on his way down.
‘Give me half an hour,’ I mumbled pathetically.
‘Fifteen minutes.’
Motivated by that promise or threat, I managed to get in and out of the shower and into my clothes before he arrived. I do not have transparent garments in my wardrobe – not for day wear, at any rate – so I had no trouble finding a shirt that covered the bruises, which were darkening as expected. Studying myself in the mirror I was pleased to find that the excesses – physical and emotional – of the previous night hadn’t left visible marks, and when Schmidt insisted we go down to breakfast I agreed. I wanted John to see me smiling and calm, cool, collected, and contemptuous.
He wasn’t in the dining room. Neither was Mary. The place was only half full, so I concluded the others were breakfasting in their rooms. Alice was sitting with Feisal; they waved and I waved, and joined Schmidt at a table as far from Alice as I could get. The less we were seen together, the safer for her.
She’d be looking for her contact when we went ashore. I wondered what disguise he’d assume – another tourist, a seller of souvenirs, a beggar? The set-up was perfect for a seemingly casual encounter, the sites were swarming with people. He’d be there, I felt sure. The change in schedule must be known to the authorities, and after Ali’s death it was imperative that they reestablish contact.
Schmidt stuffed himself with eggs and cornflakes and fruit and bread, and then proceeded to fill his pockets with titbits. For the cats? ‘Yes,’ said Schmidt, when I asked. ‘And the poor dogs. Ach, Vicky, it is sad to see – ’
Feisal interrupted the speech, stopping by our table on his way out to warn us we’d better hurry. ‘Don’t forget a hat, Vicky. We are farther south, and the sun is hot.’
I hoped that was a hint; but after I had dashed upstairs and opened the safe, nothing was there that hadn’t been there the night before. Maybe it was a hint of another kind? And maybe it wasn’t a hint of any kind. After deliberating for a few seconds I put the gun into my bag.
Most of the passengers had assembled. After all that time cruising, even the lazy ones were ready to go ashore. Schmidt had cornered Larry; ignoring his winks and nods, I joined Anna Blessington. She looked cute as a button, eyes bright in her wrinkled face, a broad-brimmed straw hat tied under her chin with a jaunty bow. The hands resting on her stick were mottled with age spots and twisted with arthritis. If she was a crook or a secret agent I’d turn in my Sherlock Holmes badge.
‘Did you enjoy the party last night?’ I asked.
‘Yes, it was splendid, wasn’t it?’ She grinned, producing an even more astonishing set of wrinkles. ‘Especially Feisal’s dancing. To think I am the only female whom he has held in his arms!’
‘I’m thinking of spraining my ankle,’ I admitted.
‘You don’t have to resort to such painful expedients, my dear.’ She hoisted herself to her feet and reached, unselfconsciously, for my arm. ‘Just till we get down the gangplank, if you don’t mind; it’s a bit steep.’
The ancient cemeteries and the temples that served them are in the desert; we had a long ride, through the cultivated fields and the town of Hammadi. The children were on their way to school; I was pleased to see girls among them, modestly clad in long-sleeved dark robes, their heads covered with white kerchiefs. Older women all wore black. Stalls along the street sold a variety of goods, from fruit and vegetables to cheap plastic dishes. After we left the town we drove through fields of cabbages and sugarcane. The road, paved but narrow, bordered a canal. We roared past donkeys loaded with reeds and rusty trucks loaded with pots and turbaned men riding bicycles, and another tourist bus.
The area outside the entrance to the archaeological enclosure was a modern disaster – rows of stalls selling film and souvenirs, a couple of coffee shops with rows of rusting tables and chairs outside. Feisal raced around like a Border collie, shepherding us into a compact group and assuring Suzi, who kept trying to break away and head for the souvenirs, that she would have a chance to spend her money after we had seen the temple. He lost Schmidt when we started up the ramp to the entrance. looking back, I saw my boss surrounded by lean dogs and peremptory cats. Handing Anna over to Feisal, I went back to him.
‘For heaven’s sake, Schmidt, come on. Feisal has the tickets.’
Schmidt had emptied his pockets of food. His stricken face was turned towards a child who sat on a low wall nearby. The kid’s hand was out and he was whining for baksheesh. He had only one leg.
‘Ach, Vicky – ’
‘I know, Schmidt. I know. Come on.’
‘One moment only . . .’ He trotted towards the boy and filled the outstretched hand with crumpled bills. That wasn’t as generous as it sounds, since Egyptian currency consists mainly of paper money, the smallest being worth approximately ten cents. But I don’t think Schmidt looked at the numbers on the bills.