Nile Shadows

the sand, out of nothing, hands grasping and reaching . . . just hands. Rigid hands. The fingers fallen and broken, too weak, too frail, and it's horrible. . . . It's just horrible.

I knew him, whispered Joe, hunched over and sobbing as Bletchley stared straight ahead at the river.

***

The felucca in the distance came around into the wind. Bletchley stirred.

Shall I finish with the details?

Yes, said Joe, I guess you'd better. . . . I'm dead. What comes after that?

Once you leave here there won't be any stopovers, as I mentioned. You'll be traveling under a temporary cover that's only good for the trip. When you get to Canada you'll disappear, and then you'll have to begin working out a new identity for yourself. A new history and a new background, everything.

Yes.

I could help you but it wouldn't be as safe as doing it on your own. And anyway, I can't imagine you'd need my help with that.

No, I'll make do.

But understand, Joe, I mean a new real name and a new real history and background to go with it. The real Joseph O'Sullivan Beare, born in the Aran Islands on April 15, 1900, died in a fire in Cairo in June 1942.

Joe nodded.

And so he did . . . and so he did.

Our records will show that, continued Bletchley, and that's what the report to London will say, and the reports London will send to Washington and Ottawa. The Stern case is closed and everybody who was connected with it in any knowledgeable way has been accounted for. The case is closed and there are no surviving witnesses.

Yes, I can see that.

So this has to be an absolute agreement between the two of us, Joe. No one else inside will know the truth but me, and therefore I have to be able to count on you completely. . . .

Bletchley paused.

Completely, he repeated.

Joe looked at him.

How can I assure you of that?

By telling me, said Bletchley. If you know you can do it, you'll tell me so. If you have any doubts, you'll tell me that.

Joe shook his head.

No, no doubts. I can do it and you can count on me.

All right, I will count on you then.

Joe nodded. He waited but Bletchley seemed to have finished. Let it go, thought Joe, for God's sake let it be. He's going way out of his way and doing an enormous amount to make this possible, so just let it be and don't push him. . . . But Joe couldn't let it be. He moved his legs and let his feet swing, gazing down at the water.

You said there would be . . . there are, no surviving witnesses to the Stern case. What about the Sisters?

The Sisters weren't connected to the Stern case, said Bletchley. The two of them are half as old as time and they live on the Nile and maybe they are the Nile, and for all I know they haven't spoken to anyone but the Sphinx in decades. And for all anybody knows they'll outlive your grandchildren and Stern's grandchildren and they'll still be around when the Sphinx is turning to dust. They knew Stern over the years, I imagine, but over the years they've known just about everybody on every side of any war, so that doesn't connect them specifically to the Stern case. Their concerns aren't the same as mine, or as yours and Stern's used to be.

Yes, whispered Joe. I can see that.

Joe hesitated. Damn, he thought. Why can't we ever let good enough alone? Why do we have this incurable need for answers?

Again Joe swung his feet, gazing down at the water.

You said no one else inside would know the truth. Does that include Maud? I wasn't sure whether you consider her inside or not.

I don't, said Bletchley. Not really, but I was going to mention that. I intend to speak to Maud privately, after you leave. I feel she has to know the truth, that you're not dead, I mean. I don't think it could work otherwise. But even so, you mustn't try to contact her or anyone else you know out here, after you get back. It has to be all or nothing, Joe, and that still holds no matter what identity you adopt for yourself and no matter how plausible it might be for the man in that new identity to get in touch with Maud in one way or another, or with anyone else. There are people who might be interested and I don't want them to have the least justification for being interested. Private suspicions and private conjectures are one thing.

But a cause for suspicion is something else.

Yes.

I'm thinking now of people who are on the inside and have access to files. People who became involved in this and shouldn't have been, or people who simply might be curious for their own reasons. I'm referring to the Major from the Waterboys whom you met, and to his superior the Colonel, and I'm also referring to Whatley. They're all professionals, and good ones, but they should be allowed to forget these incidents so they can move on to other things.

Yes, I can see that.

And I'm not being sentimental when I say Maud has to know you're alive or it wouldn't work. I feel she has to know for security reasons. Because if she didn't, I don't see how she could keep from trying to find it out somehow, and that could cause trouble. Not because of where she is in her job exactly, but because of connections she has.

Yes. I know how close she and the Major are, by the way. She told me.

I wasn't going to mention that, said Bletchley. There didn't seem to be any reason to.

There wasn't, not for you. I only mentioned it so you'd know I really do understand what it means in terms of security, and the agreement between you and me.

Joe hesitated.

This isn't your concern, I know, but what about Bernini in New York?

Bletchley shook his head. He looked out at the river and shook his head again.

I've thought about that, Joe, and I don't know what to say. Out here, tonight, New York seems very far away from the war, and Bernini isn't involved with the war and he's never going to become involved. So on the face of it there wouldn't seem to be any reason why you and Bernini . . . But damn it, look at it the other way, Joe. We have to consider everything and Harry knows about Bernini, and we don't know what might become of that, Harry and Maud, I mean, so there again, it's just too dangerous now. Your death and all the rest of it has to be absolutely secure and certain with not a shred of evidence to the contrary. After all, we're talking about something that comes before everything else. Before everything else. So perhaps someday, after the war's over . . . if it ever is. . . .

Bletchley shook his head, perplexed, saddened.

Anyway, I don't see what you could say to Bernini now, how you could explain anything to him. I mean .

. . well forgive me, but from what I understand he's not the kind of boy, young man, who could take this in. How could he even begin to make any sense out of Monks and Waterboys in Egypt, or a mysterious houseboat on the Nile, or the Sphinx speaking to Harry on a clear night and what that means. Forgive me, Joe, but I don't see how Bernini could even begin to make any sense out of any of it.

Joe smiled.

Either that or he'd make better sense out of it than we do.

Joe?

No, it's all right. I do understand and you're right of course, and it'll be as you say. Maud will have to let him know I died in a fire. . . .

Only he won't believe it, thought Joe. Not him, not for a moment. But that's all right. The two of us will have a chance to straighten out matters someday. After the war. Someday. . . .