darkness. If he hadn’t moved closer to the gate, drawn by curiosity, we wouldn’t have seen him in time. The light glinted dully off the rifle barrel.
We froze in a puddle of shadow, knowing the slightest movement would betray our presence. There wasn’t even a skinny shrub between us and the guard.
‘Give me the knife.’ John breathed the words into my ear.
I didn’t ask what he was going to do with it. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to do with it. The guy was ten or fifteen feet away and there was no way of creeping up on him unobserved. The rifle wasn’t slung over his shoulder, it was in his hands.
John’s arm shot back and his foot hooked around my ankle, sending me sprawling to the ground. A bullet whined through the air over my head; when I got up, which I did with considerable alacrity, the guard lay face down and unmoving.
‘Is he dead?’ I asked breathlessly.
John straightened, the rifle in his hand. ‘Not unless he passed on from sheer terror. I can’t throw a knife that accurately; it was only meant to distract him. Vicky, would you mind terribly if we postponed this conversation and started running? They’ll have heard the shot, you know.’
Running barefoot over a hard, broken surface is no fun. The first time I stubbed my toe John tossed the rifle away and took my hand. When I stumbled, which I did every two or three steps, he yanked at my arm and kept me moving forward in a series of staggering rushes. I stopped listening for sounds of pursuit, I stopped worrying about whether there would be another guard at the street; I could only think how much my feet hurt.
When we emerged, unchallenged, onto the brightly lit expanse of the corniche I was still preoccupied with my feet. ‘Slow down,’ I panted, trying to free my hand. ‘We made it.’
‘Not yet.’ He stopped, raising his arm. ‘Praise be to God and Saint Jude, there’s a taxi. I do hope you have some money. I’m getting tired of hitting people.’
The driver may have been dubious about picking us up but John didn’t give him time to think about it. As the cab pulled away he looked out of the back window and said something under his breath. I deduced that Saint Jude, the patron of hopeless causes, wasn’t going to get a donation after all. Someone had seen us get into the cab.
After giving the driver directions John didn’t speak again except to demand money, in the tone a bank robber might have employed. I handed over part of Schmidt’s wad and sat nursing my sore feet. I wondered where we were going, but I didn’t have the energy to inquire. After we passed the Luxor Temple the cab turned away from the river into the streets of the town and finally came to a stop.
‘Can you walk a little farther?’ John asked, helping me out.
‘What’s the alternative?’ I stood on one foot. It only hurt half as much that way.
‘Crawling a little farther.’
But he put his arm around me and lifted me over the worst spots. The sidewalk was broken and littered. I was too busy watching where I stepped to notice my surroundings; when he turned into a doorway and knocked, I was only glad we had reached our destination. I was beginning to think the occupant wasn’t home when I heard a rattle of bolts and chains. The door opened a crack. Then it started to close again.
John inserted his foot. ‘Open, sesame,’ he said.
It was the foot, not the request, that got the point across. The door swung open and there she was. She had drawn a fold of cloth across her face, hiding all her features except beady little black eyes. But I’d have known her anywhere.
‘Hi, Granny,’ I said. ‘I’m back. Aren’t you glad to see me?’
Feisal wasn’t glad to see us either. After a prolonged and obviously profane monologue in his own lanunage he threw up his hands. ‘In here,’ he snapped, opening a door. It was Granny’s parlour, elegantly fitted out with shiny upholstered furniture and a television set and a rug covered with bright red roses. Granny let out a wavering howl of protest. I couldn’t really blame her for not wanting two dusty vagabonds in her nice clean room. However, my bloody footprints blended with the red roses.
I collapsed into the nearest chair and stretched my legs. When he saw my feet, Feisal’s face changed. ‘What happened?’
‘Quite a lot has happened,’ John said.
Granny had slipped out of the room. Now she returned with her veil pinned firmly in place. She was carrying a basin of water, which she set down on the floor beside my chair. There was a dead fly floating in the basin; I pushed the body callously aside with my toes and slid my feet into the warm water. It felt wonderful. I smiled and nodded at the old lady. She ducked her head and muttered in Arabic.
‘She is begging your pardon,’ Feisal translated. ‘She thinks you hurt yourself running away from her. She says she didn’t mean to frighten you.’
I leaned over and touched Granny on her bowed shoulder. ‘Shoukran,’ I said. ‘That’s all the Arabic I know, Feisal; tell her I owe her an apology and that I’m very grateful.’
‘She’s not the only one to whom you owe an apology,’ said John, unmoved by this touching exchange. ‘If you’d stayed here as you were supposed to – ’
‘I did apologize to you. It’s your own fault. If you would stop pushing people around and take the trouble to explain why you’re doing what you’re doing, instead of being so insufferably condescending, people might – ’
‘Enough!’ Feisal exclaimed. ‘We have not the time to waste on recriminations. You promised you’d get me out of this mess, Johnny – ’
‘Johnny?’ I repeated. ‘Isn’t that sweet. How come you never let me call you Johnny?’
‘I never allow him to do it either. It’s only a crude attempt to soften me by recalling sentimental memories of our school days.’
‘Then I’ll have to go on thinking of you as my blue eyes.’
I thought he’d miss that one, but Schmidt’s tutelage had been more extensive than I had believed. Spontaneous, unguarded laughter transformed his face, and my defensive barriers developed a few more cracks. I hadn’t often seen that look.
‘I’ll never forget the pleasures we’ve both seen together,’ he assured me.
‘What in God’s name – ’ Feisal began.
‘You don’t want to know. The fact is, old chap, I can’t get you out unless I can extricate myself as well, and the only way I can do that is to turn my coat and join the forces of law and order. Until our former associates are safely stowed away in a maximum-security prison neither of us is going to be out of this.’ He sighed. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? Forced by circumstances beyond my control to become an honest man . . .’
‘Don’t let it bother you too much,’ I advised. ‘You can console yourself with the knowledge that it wasn’t morality but self-preservation that drove you to that painful decision. Clearing your name is going to be something of a tall order, though. How are you planning to go about it?’
‘A good question.’ John rubbed his forehead. ‘How many of the local gendarmes are in Blenkiron’s pay, Feisal?’
‘Too many,’ was the blunt response. ‘He’s got enough money to buy several medium-sized countries, much less a few poor devils who are trying to raise families on inadequate salaries. Some of them are honest, but I don’t know which, and the honest ones think he’s the greatest thing to come along since King Tut’s tomb. If it’s our word against his, we haven’t a prayer.’
‘I’ve a little more than that,’ John murmured. ‘But I think we’ll have to take it to Cairo – straight to the Ministry and the EAO.’
‘They’ll be watching the airport and the train station,’ Feisal said soberly. ‘I assume they know you’re on the loose.’
‘You assume correctly. We’ll have to go by road.’
‘I don’t own a car’,’ Feisal said. ‘And don’t suggest I steal one. I’m in enough trouble already.’
‘How much money have we?’ John asked.
It added up to more than I had realized. Grimacing but game, Feisal contributed his hard-earned savings – a few hundred pounds Egyptian. John had only a few pounds in his wallet. Being broke when payment was required was an old habit of his, but in this case I refrained from caustic comment. He hadn’t had a chance to pick up his luggage before we left.
‘Schmidt will have money,’ I said. ‘He was going to cash more traveller’s cheques.’ John started to speak, but I cut him off. ‘I’m not leaving without Schmidt. We’ll have to collect him before we go.’
