‘Wrong. Tennessee. One for me.’
‘I got the song right,’ I protested. ‘Anyhow, she wasn’t a girl, she was a train.’
‘Half a point, then. Why don’t you get some sleep? You must be tired. Heroic rescues take a lot out of a girl.’
‘The hell with that. I’m not going to sleep while you two big, strong intelligent men make all the decisions. Where are we going?’
Feisal chuckled. ‘She does have a strange charm all her own, doesn’t she? I’m beginning to understand why you – ’
‘She grows on you,’ John agreed. ‘As for where we’re going, that depends to some extent on what we encounter along the way, but I think we’ll head for Minya. That must have been what Schmidt meant by his delightfully mysterious clues; it’s the nearest stop to Amarna. The train he’s taken doesn’t arrive until seven in the morning and it may be late. If we can make it in time we’ll look out for him at the station. If we miss him we’ll check the hotels.’
‘How are you planning to get across the river?’ Feisal inquired.
‘I intend to avoid the bridges. They are the most logical places for roadblocks. We’ll stay on the east bank until we reach Amarna and then take the ferry across. There are a number of advantages to that agenda; they will expect us to take the main road, and it’s always a good idea to do what the enemy doesn’t expect.’
‘Skip the lectures on crime, will you?’ Feisal said sourly ‘There’s only one little problem with your agenda, Johnny. We can’t get to Amarna from here.’
‘The road – ’ John began.
‘Ends a few kilometres north of Asyut. They haven’t finished it.’
‘There’s a track, surely.’
‘There are a number of paths, yes. For donkeys and camels. If we follow the river, there’s one point where the cliffs come right down to the water’s edge. The car would never make it through.’
‘Hmmm. Then we’ll have to think of another way, won’t we?’
‘It doesn’t sound to me as if there is another way,’ I remarked. ‘We’ll have to cross at Asyut and risk the roadblocks.’
‘Feisal is being modest,’ John said gently. ‘I’m sure he can suggest an alternative. He has friends everywhere. Knowledgeable friends. Right, old chum?’
‘Damn it, Johnny, I haven’t had anything to do with that crowd for years. It was one of those youthful enthusiasms – ’
‘I quite understand,’ John said, in the same quiet, very unpleasant voice. ‘No bright, idealistic lad or lassie can resist the lure of revolution. All the same . . .’
The silence from the front seat was practically deafening. It seemed to satisfy John, though.
I don’t know how long I slept, but I was stiff and cold when I woke. The car had stopped and the view out of the window next to me was so beautiful I forgot, for a few moments, that this wasn’t exactly the time to enjoy the scenery.
The moon had risen. Now at the full, it hung over the cliffs like a silver balloon. In the cold, bright light the rocky ramparts looked like glaciers and the desert floor like new-fallen snow. I had never seen so many stars.
My window was closed, but the one on the passenger side in front was partly open. I could hear their voices clearly.
‘You won’t need that,’ Feisal said.
‘I hope not. Just so you and your friend understand that I’ll use it if I must.’
I shifted position so I could see. Feisal leaned against the front fender, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched against the chill of the night air. John faced him, a few feet away. The moonlight was so bright I could see every detail.
‘I don’t doubt it in the least,’ Feisal said. He sounded more amused than apprehensive. ‘Amazing. I never thought I’d see the day . . . Now keep calm, Johnny. I wasn’t objecting to the aim, only to the means. It’s been five years since I went that route, and I don’t know whether I can persuade, bully, or bribe Amr into lending us the jeep. We haven’t much money left. Threatening him would be a serious error, however. Put the gun away, okay?’
‘Give him this.’ John unstrapped his wristwatch.
Feisal took the watch. ‘All right, let’s make the attempt.’ They got back into the car. John turned and looked back at me. ‘Awake?’
‘Yes. Where are we?’
‘A few miles north of Asyut. Any further questions?’
‘How – ’
‘Save them. And don’t join in any discussion that may ensue. This is a conservative area. They don’t approve of uppity women.’
The huddle of low, flat-roofed buildings a few miles farther on might, if one were charitably inclined, be described as a village. No lights showed at the windows of the houses. There was a café there is always a café, but even it was dark.
To give myself credit, which I am always inclined to do, I felt sure I knew the answers to most of the questions I might have asked. The individual in the house on whose door Feisal was knocking had to be a member of the organization to which he had once belonged – whatever that might be. Even experts in Middle East politics had some trouble keeping track of the various revolutionary groups and how their aims and methods differed. I wasn’t familiar with the ramifications, but I knew that many students had been attracted to the radical movements because they promised an end to government corruption and inefficiency.
That’s what they all promise. And sooner or later, in the Middle East or Ireland or the States, the noble aims are distorted; violence inspires answering violence, and often the ones who suffer most are the poor devils both sides claim to be defending. The repressive measures of the State Security forces had won a lot of waverers over to the revolutionary cause, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that everyone in the village was a secret sympathizer. We were in Middle Egypt now; the city of Asyut, across the river, had been and probably still was one of the centres of rebellion – or terrorism, depending on which side you supported.
The door finally opened and Feisal went inside. John had gotten out of the car and was leaning against the door, hands in his jacket pockets. I’d never known him to carry a weapon before. I wondered if he really would use the gun or if the guy inside the house would shoot first.
Feisal was only gone for ten minutes. When he returned he was accompanied by his – friend? He didn’t look very friendly. He had wound his woollen scarf around his head and throat, but I could see his face clearly in the bright moonlight.
‘It’s all right,’ Feisal said, eyes fixed on John’s right-hand pocket. ‘He’s agreed. He’s not happy about it, but he has agreed.’
‘Good.’ John took his hand out of his pocket and opened the car door. ‘Come on, Vicky.’
The sight of me didn’t make the other guy any happier. He let out a spate of low-voiced Arabic and began waving his arms. I gave him an ingratiating smile. ‘What’s he mad about?’ I asked.
‘Everything,’ Feisal said. ‘I don’t blame him. The situation has deteriorated, if that is possible. They’re setting up checkpoints on this side of the river now. And along the Red Sea highway.’
‘That’s encouraging,’ John said coolly. ‘They don’t know which route we’ve taken.’
‘They’ll soon find out if we don’t get moving. This way.’
We followed our unwilling host to the back of the house, where the jeep – or, to be more accurate, the rusting skeleton of a jeep – was parked. The doors were tied on with rope. I climbed over the side, noting, as I sat down, that there were a few springs left. One, at least.
Feisal dumped the luggage in on top of me and turned to John. ‘How much money have we?’
‘A couple of hundred pounds. Why?’
‘We’re going to need more supplies. Water, blankets, petrol. No, don’t argue, just listen. The moon will be down before long and I daren’t risk driving this route in the dark. We’ll have to hole up somewhere for the rest of the night, and probably all day tomorrow. I presume you don’t want to arrive in broad daylight?’