‘He has been wounded?’ He was genuinely concerned, but I detected an underlying note of enjoyment. Wounds are so romantic. In Schmidt’s favourite form of fiction they are usually in the arm or the shoulder and after biting his lip and muttering, ‘It’s only a scratch,’ the hero goes back to fighting four or five opponents barehanded.
‘You could say that.’ I lifted the cloth.
‘Lieber Gott,’ Schmidt whispered. ‘Who has done this?’
‘I’ll tell you later. It’s not as bad as it looks, Schmidt,’ I added, as tears of sympathy rolled down Schmidt’s sunburned cheeks. ‘Something else must be causing the fever. Maybe . . . Maybe a good night’s sleep is all he needs.’
John opened one eye. ‘Was that . . .’ The eye rolled towards Schmidt and then closed. ‘It was. I thought I was dreaming. I hoped I was dreaming. Schmidt, what have you – ’
‘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 . . .