He walked swiftly until he came to the street of the tumbledown mosque, and only then allowed his pace to slacken.
He was doing some hard thinking. Now that he had got clear of the caf6 and clear of clumsy native police inquiries he could act. The had] must be identified. The link with Theo Leidler must be looked for.
And Leidler himself? Had Shaun stumbled by chance on the climax of his intrigue? Evidence to break up a gang that had defied the European police and the US Secret Service for three years now seemed to lie within his grasp. It was definitely known that Nazi loot of incalculable value had been passed from Paris to Istanbul and on into Egypt. In Egypt Theo Leidler had been waiting to take it over.
Why had Leidler gone to this cafe? Whom had he gone to meet? Shaun knew instinctively that it must have been the hadj.
Because the bearded hadj who had sat beside Shaun, chin in hands, elbows propped on the table… was dead.
Maureen Lonergan waved her hand at the group on the deck and walked down the gang plank. It wasn't that she disliked Mrs Simmonds and Shelley Downing but that she was rather sick of always being expected to go where the other An-tonia passengers went.
"We're having early lunch at some casino on the beach," Shelley called after her. "It was up on the board this morning. See you there. Don't forget we sail at two."
Maureen had saved up hard so that she could take this Mediterranean cruise and she meant to enjoy every minute of it in her own way. The set excursions to "sights" and to night spots bored her. The Old World fascinated Maureen. She wanted to enter for awhile the real ways of its people, to see at close quarters the things she had read about.
The purser, who knew all about Maureen's passion for solitary exploring (she had been lost for three hours in the Muski while the passengers were "doing" Cairo), had advised her to complete her shopping in Port Said at Simon Arzt's. There, he assured her, she could buy anything from a pair of elephant's tusks to a packet of hairpins.
"Port Said isn't what it was under British rule," he warned her. "It's had a relapse."
Maureen had heard from a friend about a wonderful shop called Suleyman's. He had described it and where it was situated. "But don't go there alone," he had warned. "It's right in the old Arab quarter."
All the same, Maureen had made up her mind to go. It was silly to be afraid in broad daylight. But either the directions had been foggy or she had forgotten them, and apparently Suleyman was a common name in Port Said. When having wandered about for the best part of half an hour, she found herself lost on a chessboard of narrow native streets with no white face in sight, she had a sudden attack of nerves. Perhaps she had been crazy, after all, to wander into the Arab quarter by herself. And she hadn't the faintest idea of the way backl Taxis there were none, but starved-looking mongrel dogs ferreted in the gutters and there were millions of flies. Although the sky was a dazzling blue, these streets were filled with mysterious shadows.
Oily-faced traders seated in cavernous shops leered at her openly. One, a fat, sinister jeweller, tried to force her inside. His touch made Maureen shudder.
She almost ran toward the open door of a little mosque and was turning in when a good-looking Arab boy appeared mysteriously beside her.
"Lady not to be afraid. My name Ali Mahmoud. Lady want to buy scarab ring? Very old, very cheap."
Maureen hesitated, looking anxiously into the Arab boy's face, then back at the fat jeweller who stood in the street watching them. She was desperately tempted to ask the boy to lead her to the ship, but stubbornly determined not be frightened.
"I want to go to a shop called Suleyman's. It has a brass lamp in front of it. If you can take me there I'll give you a dollar."
"Hadji Suleyman? I go. American dollar?"
"Yes, an American dollar."
"My lady will please to come this way."
Maureen was still doubtful but, almost mechanically, she followed Ali Mahmoud. Five minutes later, to her intense relief, she found herself in front of Suleyman's shop. She sighed gratefully, handed the boy his promised dollar, and "If you can find me a taxi," she said, "I'll give you another."
"Taxicab, my lady? I go. Give me dollar now — or taximan won't come. You wait in shop."
Maureen gave him another dollar.
"Don't be long," she said.
She went into the shop, composure quite restored. And Suleyman's proved to be even more fascinating than described. The place was a mere hole in the wall, but the interior concealed an Ali Baba's cave, except that its treasures were tinsel. Maureen saw statuettes of Nile gods, scarab rings and necklaces. Bedawi slippers cunningly embroidered, and boxes filled with most unusual dress jewellery.
A wrinkled old woman who wore what looked like a brass anchor chain around her neck sat in an armchair. Her heavy-Udded eyes scarcely moved as Maureen came in. There was a smell of sandalwood.
Maureen took out a piece of green dress material and a pair of earrings she had brought at Simon Arzt's. The match was not a good one but it was the best she had been able to manage.
"Have you some beads anything like this?"
The old woman waved a hand covered in rings.
"All beads in that box."
Maureen began to inspect a most astonishing collection of bead and glass necklaces which lay in a cardboard box. They ranged from Egyptian enamel to gaudy paste diamonds. The light was poor, but she found one at last which, although altogether too gaudy, seemed more nearly to match the earrings than anything so far discovered.
"How much is this one, please?"
"Can sell nothing. Must wait till my husband come back." "Oh! But I haven't time! The ship sails at two!"
Drooping lids were half raised. Maureen was inspected from head to foot by a pair of lancet-keen eyes.
"You pay American money?"
"Yes, if you like." Maureen had found out that dollar bills were talismans in Port Said. "How much is it?" she added.
The old woman shrugged so that her brass chain rattled.
"My husband go out. I never serve in here. I don't know price. Ten dollar?"
"Ten dollars! Good heavens! I couldn't think of it!"
"Five."
Maureen judged that the thing was probably worth fifty cents, but it seemed unlikely that she would find another before the ship sailed. Silently, she handed a five-dollar bill to the woman, the necklace was packed into a parcel, and Maureen went out.
There was no sign of Ali Mahmoud. Bat a man hurrying into Suleyman's as Maureen came out almost knocked her over. "Please forgive me," he murmured in a slightly accented voice.
Maureen met the glance of dark, ardent eyes and forced a smile. The man was not bad looking in a way, but it was a vaguely unpleasant way. And Maureen definitely didn't like his white coat with a pink stripe.
His glance lingered on her for only a moment. He seemed to be intensely pre-occupied, and with a quick "Forgive me," he hurried into the shop Maureen had just left.
With a little shrug at his abruptness, Maureen started back along the street in the direction from which she had come with Ali Mahmoud…
Shaun also was striding along, his thoughts racing. The hadj's death might be a natural death: some swift lesion of heart. But in his own heart Shaun knew it was murder: some deadly poison added to the rdki, and equally swift in its action. He must get to the US Consulate on the waterfront. He must get to a safe phone.
He swung sharply to the right, down a street that was monotonously like all the others — native stores, bric-a-brac dealers. Before one shop hung a brass mosque lamp and the sign "Hadji Suleyman." He hurried on to the next corner.