‘Is he asleep?’ Feisal’s voice was barely audible.
I applied a gentle pinch to John’s arm. He didn’t respond, not even with a mutter of complaint. Not that that proved anything. Feigning sleep or unconsciousness was one of his favourite tricks. ‘They usually stop hitting you when they think you can’t feel it,’ he had once solemnly explained, during one of his lectures on crime.
‘I think so.’ I raised one hand and brushed at my cheek.
‘I’m sorry I was rude. But you are being a little hard on him, aren’t you?’
‘He hasn’t been exactly easy on me.’
‘Easy on you?’ Feisal’s voice rose. ‘He wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. He had no intention of going through with this business. He tried to talk me out of it. If you hadn’t turned up out of the blue – ’
‘Just a minute,’ I said. ‘Let me get this straight. Are you implying . . .’
He did more than imply. He told me, brutally and directly. Feisal didn’t like me very much just then. That made two of us.
‘This particular project began over three years ago. Johnny had pulled off a few jobs for Blenkiron earlier, but this one was a lot more complicated, so Blenkiron hired the group represented by the man who calls himself Max. After the tomb restoration was completed and Max had served his time, Blenkiron contacted Johnny. Johnny said no, he wanted out. They’d have let him get away with it, I think, since he couldn’t blow the whistle on them without accusing himself, if somebody hadn’t come up with the bright idea of having him rob the museum at the same time Blenkiron was loading his prizes onto a plane in Cairo. Whether he succeeded or failed, the attempt would have served as a useful distraction.’
‘Very useful,’ I muttered. ‘Whose bright idea was it?’
‘Can’t you guess? Max is a businessman, he hasn’t time for useless emotions like revenge – and that was what motivated the person who suggested the museum stunt. It sounded clever but there were a number of practical disadvantages, most particularly the difficulty of forcing a tricky devil like Johnny to go through with a job he doesn’t want to do. Max was well aware of that and would have been more than happy to see Johnny out of it. Unfortunately, his group resembles certain other illegal organizations in that it is family-oriented, and the sole surviving member of this particular family is . . . You’ve seen what she’s like. How easy do you suppose it was for Johnny, cooped up with that maniac day after day and night after night, listening to her obscene threats and knowing that if he laid a finger on her she’d retaliate on you?’
It was like hearing the other side of a long, hostile divorce case. Events that seem clear-cut and obvious from one person’s point of view take on an entirely different aspect when you hear the other guy’s version.
‘They got you onto that cruise,’ Feisal went on. ‘Some kind of faked message planted on the body of a dead operative – I never knew the details. Johnny had cut off communication with you as soon as he realized what he’d got himself into. Jen was already at risk simply because they knew who she was and where she was; if he hadn’t agreed to bring her along on the cruise as an unwitting hostage, they would have kidnapped her, or worse. He planned to get Jen away at some point during the cruise. Once she was safe, he could take care of himself. It never occurred to him that they’d bother with another hostage. I wonder if you can imagine how he felt that day at Giza when he saw you?’
I could imagine. I had seen his face.
He’d managed to get Jen out of their hands next day, improvising as only John could. And then Schmidt had turned up, and there were still two hostages. I remembered the consternation in his voice when he saw Schmidt at Amarna – and Mary’s smile. Of course she had known who Schmidt was. She had probably memorized every detail of my biography, especially the episode in which her brothers had been involved.
‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ I demanded.
‘They made sure he never had a chance to tell you. Both of you were under surveillance every minute of the day and night. As a lovesick young bride she had a perfect excuse to stick closer to him than a cocklebur, and when she wasn’t with him, Blenkiron or one of the others was with you.’
The words stung like a snakebite, doubly painful because I felt I ought to have suspected some of it, at least. And there was worse to come I knew what Feisal was going to say before he said it.
‘That wasn’t the main reason. I was present when they explained to him, in painstaking detail, precisely what they would do to you if you learned the truth, from him or in any other way.’
‘Okay, I get it,’ I said hoarsely. ‘You don’t have to – ’
‘I’m going to anyway. You realize, don’t you, that while the boat was on the river they had you completely isolated and in their power? The purported changes in schedule were nothing of the sort; they were known in advance to all of us except Johnny. They kept him off balance, made it impossible for him to make arrangements for his escape or yours. Blenkiron controlled the boat, the crew, and half the able-bodied passengers. And the doctor. The moment you became aware, or even suspicious, he’d have had you pumped full of drugs and locked in your cabin with a quarantine sign on the door. And there you would have stayed, inaccessible and helpless, until . . .’
‘They tossed me overboard,’ I muttered. ‘Or would it have been something more – more inventive?’
‘Much more inventive.’ Feisal’s voice had softened a little, but he wasn’t ready to let me off the hook yet. ‘And prolonged. They were prepared to deal with Schmidt in the same way if he became a nuisance. People are always falling ill, it wouldn’t have raised questions if both of you had succumbed to some esoteric and ultimately fatal disease. Your only chance of survival depended on your remaining unwitting, and that meant your suspicions and your hostility had to be focused on Johnny. They promised him that if he’d cooperate you would be allowed to leave the cruise at Luxor with the other passengers.’
‘He believed that?’
‘Of course he didn’t. He’s been moving heaven and earth to get you to a safe place without betraying information that would endanger you even more, and he’s had to fight you as well as Blenkiron in the process.’
Cursing under his breath, he swerved – to avoid some obstacle in the road, I assumed – and the car jolted along the shoulder for a few yards before he got it back on the paved surface. I steadied John’s head with my other hand. ‘How far are we from Hammadi?’ I asked.
‘Another thirty or forty kilometres. Are you trying to change the subject?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were full of questions a while ago. Here’s your chance to get some of the answers you’ll never get from him.’
I didn’t say anything. The events of the past week were unrolling in my memory like a foreign film I hadn’t understood the first time I saw it. The captions Feisal had supplied cast a different light on every scene.
He had put on a pretty good act in public, but I might have noticed he never used a term of endearment or touched her if he could avoid doing so. In private . . . Knowing Mary as I now did, I felt sure she had enjoyed goading him into dangerous and ultimately futile outbursts of anger. The bruises on her arms were a graphic demonstration of at least one occasion on which she had succeeded, and she had retaliated, promptly and effectively. If Schmidt’s loud concern about my phobia hadn’t alerted her, my own behaviour would have done so.
That incident had been a joint project – Larry getting me down into the tomb, Mary or one of the others bollixing the lights. John must have suspected something was going to happen, but he had been helpless to prevent it. All he could do was get to me as quickly as possible.