harm him so long as we’re on the loose.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I’m always right,’ John said firmly. ‘Anyhow, we can hardly be said to have missed him when we don’t know for certain where he is or what he’s up to. Pray that he’s gone on to Cairo. If he can convince someone in authority to search that boat we’ll be in the clear.’
‘The boat won’t he there yet, will it?’ I asked, mopping my sweating face with my sleeve.
‘I shouldn’t think so. But you can be sure Blenkiron has moved up his schedule. He’ll load and be under way as soon as he possibly can, and the
He reached casually into his pocket and took out the Tutankhamon pectoral. Glowing with soft shades of gold and turquoise and coral, it covered his entire palm. The giant blue beetle that dominated the design held a sun disk of carnelian in its raised pincers.
Feisal caught his breath. ‘From Blenkiron’s collection? Good thinking, Johnny. That should be enough – ’
John shook his dishevelled head. ‘It should be enough to capture the attention of the museum authorities, certainly; that’s why I – er – borrowed it. But once Blenkiron is out of the country with his collection, it will be my word against his as to where this came from. Eventually they may discover that the other objects are forgeries as well, but things move slowly in this part of the world and bureaucrats in any part of the world are reluctant to take action. And while they are discussing and debating and arguing and speculating, we will be wasting away in a dungeon cell. If we’re lucky.’
‘I like you better when you’re being frivolous,’ I said.
‘I don’t.’ Feisal hoisted himself to his feet. ‘We’d better get started.’
Even after seeing the terrain I wouldn’t have believed it would take six hours to cover less than thirty miles. I suppose it could have been worse. Nobody got bitten by a scorpion or a cobra and the jeep held together, except for one of the doors, which Feisal wired back on. We only had two flat tyres. Smaller canyons opened up along the way and sometimes it was impossible to tell the main wadi from a dead end. We went for almost a mile into one of the latter before Feisal realized his error. He had to back out. As the sun rose higher it beat straight down into the canyon and the temperature kept climbing. We were all sticky wet and itching with sweat when we reached the end of the first wadi and found the steep slope ahead completely blocked by fallen boulders.
‘Is there a way around?’ I asked.
Both of them turned to glare at me. Feisal had taken off his shirt; perspiration ran down his face and puddled in the hollows over his collarbones. It was a pity I was too hot and tired to enjoy the view, because he did have a great body. John had chosen not to display his.
‘No, my dear,’ said Feisal, baring all his beautiful white teeth in a snarl. ‘This is it. The only way. There must have been a minor quake or a flash flood since I was last here.’
He got out and began fumbling among the miscellany of rusted tools in the backseat. I didn’t ask any more questions. The options were obvious even to me: either we abandoned the jeep and proceeded on foot, or we tried to clear away enough of the debris so we could go on.
It would have been a formidable job even if we had had proper tools and if the weather had been comfortable. With only a tyre iron as a lever, and a temperature in the high nineties, and our supply of water running low . . . I remember thinking sympathetically of Sisyphus, the guy in the Greek legend who had been condemned to spend eternity pushing a big rock up a hill. As soon as he got it to the top, it rolled back down again.
When we stopped for a rest, Feisal mopped his forehead with what had once been a white handkerchief and was now a filthy rag. The sun had moved farther west and there was some shade. We passed the water bottle around and sat there wheezing. Even John was too far gone to make jokes. His shirt was soaking wet and not all the liquid was sweat. The bullet wound must have opened up again. As if he felt my eyes on him he raised his head and gave me a hard stare, daring me to speak. I didn’t.
‘A little more should do it,’ Feisal said, after a while.
‘Do you really think so?’ I asked
‘I really do.’ He took my hand and turned it, inspecting first the scraped palm and then the broken nails and bleeding fingers.
‘Those are not the hands of a lady,’ I said. ‘Guess I won’t be invited to the Junior Cotillion.’
‘You’re number one on my list,’ Feisal said softly. He raised my filthy, bloody hand to his lips.
John stood up. ‘I hate to interrupt this tender scene, but could we please get on with it?’
When Feisal called a halt there were still a lot of rocks on that slope. We all climbed into the jeep and Feisal backed off, to get a good running start, and then gunned the engine. I closed my eyes, and kept them closed while the jeep bounced up and over the ridge and then began to descend.
The descent wasn’t as steep as the ascent, but it was just as bumpy. When we reached relatively level ground Feisal picked up speed and I opened my eyes.
He was watching me in the cracked rearview mirror ‘The worst is over,’ he yelled. ‘Not long now.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ I yelled back. ‘Keep your eyes on the – you should excuse the word – road.’
Experience is broadening, all right; never again would I complain about any road surface, anywhere. Compared to what we’d been through, this stretch was a piece of cake. I now had leisure to realize how hot it was. The air was bone-dry; I could feel my skin stretching and cracking. After approximately an hour Feisal pulled up and turned off the engine.
‘Almost there. People come this way occasionally, so we’d better lie low until dark.’
Stretched out on the hard ground, we finished the water. I was bone-tired but not sleepy; I waited till John had dropped off, or passed out, whichever came first, before I spoke. ‘He can’t go on much longer.’
‘I know. But there’s nothing we can do for him now. Get some rest, Vicky. You worked like a hero today.’
‘What’s going to happen when we reach Amarna?’
‘He’s got something in mind, but don’t ask me what. He told me where to go and what to say, but he did not condescend to explain further.’ Feisal stretched out with a long, heartfelt sigh. ‘At least we can be sure no one has followed us. Only an idiot would attempt this route. Don’t worry, love, we’ll bribe or bully someone into helping us.’
‘We haven’t any money.’
Feisal’s long fuzzy lashes were drooping. He opened his eyes a little wider and grinned at me. ‘We’ll sell something. You, perhaps. A woman who can work that hard should fetch a good price.’
I let him sleep. I tried to, but I couldn’t, so I lay still counting John’s breaths and watching the sky darken and the stars brighten against the night.
Finally Feisal stirred. ‘Did we finish the water?’
‘There’s some fizzy lemonade. I’ve been hoarding it.’
‘Well done. All right, let’s do it. Johnny?’
‘I told you not to call me that,’ said a grumpy voice from the darkness.
‘I assumed you’d prefer it to “blue eyes.” Someday perhaps one of you will explain those esoteric comments to me.’
‘A cold day in hell, perhaps,’ John said.
When we emerged from the widening mouth of the wadi the moon was shining down on the plain of Amarna. Lights twinkled among the dark bank of trees along the river.
Nobody felt like cheering. Not yet.
‘Head north,’ John said. ‘I suggest you follow the cliffs as long as possible. Less chance of our being observed.’
‘If people don’t know we’re here, they’re deaf,’ I remarked.
‘Back to your old form, I see,’ John said. ‘Perhaps you’d prefer to walk. It’s only six or seven miles.’
I said no more.
Feisal proceeded at a slower speed, and if I hadn’t had other things on my mind I might have enjoyed the scenery. The cliffs enclosing the plain were icy-pale in that eerie light, checkered with shadow where crevices and canyons broke their ramparts. One deeper, darker opening might have been the entrance to the royal wadi which
