The man smiled, nodded.
Yes, and do you suppose that could have been an old pharaonic saying? Do exactly as I say, I mean. It sounds like it might have been some pharaoh's standing order from on high to the troops who were building the pyramids. Think so?
Left hand only. Pull off your shirt. Drop it. Now raise one leg, slowly.
Oh dear.
Pull off your sock. Now the other one. Left hand only.
Right. And I guess you've assumed all along I'm right-handed, which only goes to show it's a good thing I'm not Colly.
The Major stared.
What's that? Who?
You know, the man who had this Armenian identity before me. The original Gulbenkian of clandestine obscurity, also known at one time as Our Colly of Champagne. As long as I can remember, Colly always used his left hand when he was taking a piss over the side of the boat.
What?
Yes. Colly was left-handed, in other words, so he always used his left hand when the time came to be sinister, to do something fast and unexpected.
What? Don't move.
Right. All I meant was that Colly's left hand was his shooting hand and his throwing hand, as well as his pissing hand don't you see, so it wouldn't have been a good idea to have him undressing with it. Fast on the draw, Colly was. But of course that's just by way of being of historical interest and it doesn't matter tonight, because I'm not Colly and I use both hands for things. Born ambidextrous, I don't know why.
Don't move.
Right.
One hand, either hand, slowly. Pull down your underwear and step away from your clothes. Out there, over to the end of the paw.
Right. For another of life's maulings, probably.
Joe smiled and walked to the end of the paw where he stood naked, shivering. The Major kept his carbine pointed at Joe while he knelt beside the pile of clothing and felt his way through it. Other than Joe's papers and a handful of Egyptian coins, the only thing he found was a large wad of money in various currencies, in denominations he had never seen before. The Major backed away, perplexed.
Where are your weapons?
Don't carry any.
What?
That's right. I dropped out of the maiming and killing business a long time ago. It may be necessary sometimes but myself, I'd rather not take part. Personal prejudice.
The Major looked confused.
No weapons?
None but what's in the head, and do you suppose I could get dressed now? Just plain cold is what it is.
The Major nodded. He kept his carbine trained on Joe while he pulled on his clothes, at the same time sneaking glances at the wad of money he had taken from Joe's pocket. A bewildered expression came over the Major's face, hidden by his white silk mask. The money was printed on only one side.
I keep some money on hand because you never know when you might have to take a quick trip when you're in transit, said Joe, watching the Major out of the corner of his eye. Of course it's true those Bulgarian leva and Rumanian bani can't be worth much this year, and the paras have probably also seen better days. None of them could be worth more than half of what they used to be, which is maybe why they were printed that way. In halves, I mean, on one side only. . . . Things are always deteriorating all over, have you ever noticed that?
The Major forgot himself and nodded. Joe pulled on his shoes.
But the real beauty in the pack, said Joe, is that bill on the bottom. See it? One hundred Greek drachmas on one side, ten thousand Albanian leks on the other. Or is it the other way around? The Balkans have always been a confusing concept to me, I've just never been able to make much sense out of them.
Know what I mean?
Again the Major nodded dumbly in agreement. He was having trouble remembering what he was supposed to be doing, so bewildering did he find Joe's manner. This isn't right, thought the Major. Things aren't going the way they're supposed to.
Tinkle.
Joe smiled, pulling on his jacket, as the Major quickly tried to think of another command to deliver. Any command would do.
Sit down there, he said. Feet apart, please.
Sound reasoning in the moonglow, Major. I was just thinking myself we ought to relax a bit. After all, the Sphinx is a riddle and we're right in the lap of that riddle, aren't we?
The Major nodded without thinking. He pulled down his white silk mask, absentmindedly, and wiped his mouth. Joe asked for a cigarette and the Major handed him a packet.
Would you care to sit down yourself? Joe asked pleasantly, striking a match.
The Major nodded, confused, and sat down a few yards away from Joe on the paw of the Sphinx. He removed his pith helmet and wiped his brow Then he realized he couldn't see very well and he removed his goggles.
This is an impossible situation, he muttered.
Joe peered over the end of his burning cigarette and smiled.
Tut tut, Major, tut and ho. Impossible, you say? Best to be wary of words like that in the moonglow here, where the secrets of the pharaohs reside all around us. A few minutes ago you might even have been wondering where I was when you first rode up and the Sphinx seemed to be speaking to you.
Were you maybe wondering about that?
The Major stared, fascinated. He nodded.
Sure and why not, said Joe, and I was inside the Sphinx, that's all. It's too long a story to go into now but it has to do with tunnels of the past and lookouts people don't know about, and holes in the universe that are so mysterious they seem to be black, and other lives that affect our own even though those other lives seem to be gone and underground and forgotten to all appearances, even lost. But that's appearances only. They're there all right.
Joe looked up at the sky.
Here now, what's this? What moonglow was I referring to? Seems our gentle white goddess has just down and finished her tour for the night, making the black holes less black but leaving us in more darkness until dawn for sure.
What's that? asked the Major.
No more moon, said Joe. And speaking of that, we were talking about appearances and what's hidden and the apparent differences thereof, and Stern used to have a way of describing such things. He borrowed it from the Delphic oracle and it ran something like this. Summoned or unsummoned, the gods are there. Inside of us, it means. Calling themselves by all the names we can think up, some of which we recognize when the mirages come into focus at dawn, now and then when they do. Or in the middle of the night when everything's black and we also see things clearly for a change. Sometimes, for a moment anyway.
Joe smiled, gazing up at the head of the Sphinx.
I may be rambling now, Major, but that's only because the thought of Stern always sets my mind wandering and whisks me right off over time's dunes. A piece of personal dizziness, that's all. Fair enough?
The Major nodded, not at all sure what he was agreeing to anymore, his thoughts tumbling in utter confusion.
Right, said Joe. And it is odd how things can come around and come together. But I have another problem now and I'd like to tell you about it, and it's simply this.
Joe paused, turning his head to the side to cough. While the Major waited for Joe to continue he absentmindedly removed the heavy sniper's rifle that had been resting on his back. Then he lifted off the heavy bandoliers that were weighing down his shoulders. He also undid his web belt with its heavy load of ammunition and laid it on the stone, relieving the pressure on his kidneys.
Joe coughed again, his head still to the side. Numbly the Major went on pulling out weapons and laying them down, unencumbering himself. The automatic pistols appeared, small and large, and the various knives and daggers. When the Major was freed at last of all his weapons he stretched languidly, easily, sensuously. Joe glanced down at the small arsenal and cleared his throat.