We were eating dinner – Keith had also opened a couple of cans of beef stew – before the news came on. It was, of course, in Arabic, and I had to wait for a translation, but I could tell by Feisal’s lengthening face that it would not be good news for us.
‘They know we’ve changed vehicles,’ Feisal said, switching off the radio. ‘Amr reported the jeep stolen. Damn him!’
‘One can’t blame him for protecting himself,’ John said. ‘And his friends and family. So they know we’re on this side of the river?’
‘They seem to have lost track of us,’ Feisal admitted grudgingly. ‘We might have doubled back, getting through the checkpoints before they found out about the jeep, or struck out into the desert. But we can’t use the jeep any longer, they’ve got a description and the number.’
‘Can we buy another car?’ I asked
John glanced at me. He didn’t say anything, but I knew that look, and I realized that once again he was one step ahead of me. If he had planned to leave the cruise here, he must have made arrangements for transport away from the site.
After a brief pause – I give the guy credit, it was very brief – Keith cleared his throat. ‘You can take my Land Rover. I guess it’s the least I can do, since it was your money that paid the hire fee.’
John’s faint smile faded and he said bluntly, ‘You’re too intelligent not to suspect by now that you’ve been set up, Kendrick. I didn’t expect matters to develop as they have and I’m sorry about taking advantage of you, but not sorry enough to let you off the hook. We’ve got to have that vehicle. I don’t think you’ll get in serious trouble over this. If anyone – police or otherwise – learns we were here, don’t try to be clever or heroic. Tell them we robbed you, lied to you, or held you up at gunpoint – any story you like. We’ll back you up.’
‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that,’ Keith said. ‘I don’t understand what the hell this is all about, but as my granny used to say, you’ve got to trust somebody sometime. You will let me know what happens, won’t you?’
‘You’ll hear it on the news broadcasts,’ John said. ‘One way or the other . . . All right then, we’ll be on our way in the morning. Feisal, you and Schmidt take the Land Rover. You’ll look very innocent with your dear old mum in the backseat. Vicky and I will wend our way to Minya and – ’
Feisal shook his head. ‘It won’t wash, Johnny.’
‘There’s a greater chance . . .’ John began.
‘I agree. We’ll have to divide forces. But neither of you speaks Arabic. Schmidt does.’
‘Only enough to swear and tell dirty jokes,’ I said.
Schmidt blushed. Feisal said, ‘That could be enough. No, Johnny, I’m sorry, but Vicky goes with me or with Schmidt. It had better be with me. That way there’ll be one able-bodied man in each party.’
‘Listen, you male chauvinist,’ I began.
Schmidt was as indignant as I. ‘Ha! You think I cannot defend myself and protect Vicky? I, the finest swordsman in Europe?’
I patted his hand and made appreciative noises, but I was watching John and I saw his face change as he met Feisal’s steady stare. ‘Feisal is right,’ he said slowly. ‘This is a better arrangement all round. He knows the roads, and if Vicky slumps down in the backseat she can wear one of those conveniently concealing female garments, and remain modestly silent. I hope that won’t be too great a strain, Vicky.’
‘Oh, go to hell,’ I said angrily. ‘If you think I don’t know why Feisal suggested this you are sadly mistaken. Women and children into the lifeboats first, right? They’ll be watching the railroad stations, and you’re the one Larry wants, and you aren’t able-bodied, and – ’
Schmidt had taken my hand in his. He squeezed it and said gently but firmly, ‘They are in the right, Vicky. Think with your head instead of your heart and do not make this more difficult.’
It wouldn’t be any easier for John or for Schmidt than for me, I knew that. They’d be as worried about me as I would be frantic with apprehension for them. But they were right, damn them. Larry would be just as pleased to have me as John. If they catch you, John had said, then I’ll come after you. So would Schmidt, the little hero.
They took my silence for agreement. Feisal got to his feet. ‘The market is still open. What are we going to need?’
Schmidt had cashed all his traveller’s checks, so we had money to burn. After Feisal had left, shopping list in hand, we settled down to wait. Keith declined my offer to help with the dishes so I joined John on the floor and Schmidt started singing to the dog.
Don’t ask me why. I guess singing calmed Schmidt’s nerves. The dog loved it. So did John. ‘Let’s have “Detour on the Highway to Heaven” again, Schmidt,’ he suggested.
The third verse – ‘If you ever get out of the fast lane – ’ fascinated Keith to such an extent that he squatted down on the rug next to the dog and requested an encore. Under cover of Schmidt’s (and the dog’s) howls, I said softly, ‘You rotten cheat. You already know those songs.’
‘I am acquainted with the entire spectrum of western music,’ John said modestly. He put his arm around me and I leaned against his shoulder.
‘Then why did you pretend you’d never heard them?’
‘I hadn’t. Not as Schmidt performed them. I have been waiting all my life to hear him sing “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky-tonk Angels.”’
Schmidt was explaining to Keith about travelling melodies. ‘You will find the same tune used for many different songs. The one I have just sung to you is the same one used for that tender love song, “I Am Thinking Tonight of My Blue Eyes . . .”’
‘Don’t sing it, Schmidt,’ I begged.
‘No, not our song,’ John agreed. He was shaking with amusement. ‘How about “Great Speckled Bird” instead, Schmidt?’
‘Ach, ja, that is right. Do you know that one, Keith? The larged spotted bird is the church, you see. “The outer birds all flopped around her . . .”’
John’s face took on a look of unholy glee. ‘I’m going to get him a guitar. No – a harmonica.’
I hid my face against his shoulder. I was laughing. Laughing so hard I cried.
Feisal and I left at dawn Schmidt and John would wait till late, when there were more people around, before they took the passenger ferry. Schmidt was the cutest little sheikh you ever saw. Since he had to do whatever talking might be necessary he had to wear male clothing, and since his accent was a trifle peculiar we had decided he had better be a tourist from some other Arab-speaking country. He was crying, of course. He held out his arms and I gave him a hearty hug.
‘See you in Cairo, Schmidt. Take care of yourself.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Schmidt straightened his shoulders and wiped his eyes. ‘Fear not, Vicky I will protect your lover with – ’
‘Shut up, Schmidt.’ I kissed him and turned to John.
Schmidt’s dye wasn’t as sophisticated as the hair colouring my female friends use; it had left John’s hair flat and dull. His eyes were startingly blue in the tan of his face.
We had not weakened John’s vital forces the night before; in fact I had hardly had a moment alone with him. There had been too much to do, and at Schmidt’s insistence he had taken something to make him sleep.
‘Take care,’ I said.
‘And you.’
We shook hands. It was an absurd thing to do, I suppose. But with Feisal and Schmidt looking on, and the black garments muffling even my face, anything more demonstrative would have been still more absurd. Feisal grinned and shook his head and murmured something in Arabic. Schmidt blinked furiously.