were running late.
“So whose fault is that?” I inquired, as he bowed me into the lift. “Why didn’t you tell me you had an appointment with your contact?”
John put his arm round me and turned me to face him. “Were you worried?” he asked tenderly.
“I was furious.”
“So I assumed.” He removed his arm. “I did tell you earlier today that I meant to get in touch.”
“Who is she? She didn’t look like a crook.”
“The most successful crooks don’t.” John looked smug. “However, in this case the word ‘crook’ does not apply. She’s one of the most respected antiquities dealers in Berlin. She wasn’t keen on being seen in public with me, so she agreed to drop by here for a brief consultation.”
“I was under the impression that you were also a respectable antiquities dealer. Why was she unwilling to meet you in public? Aha—wait, let me guess. She’s heard a thing or two.”
“Very good,” John said patronizingly. He rapped on the door of the suite. Schmidt must have been standing right behind the door. It was flung open. There stood Schmidt, pointing Princess Leia’s pistol at us.
“God be thanked, you are safe!” he exclaimed.
“I can’t imagine why you should suppose we wouldn’t be,” John said. “But I appreciate your concern, Schmidt. Have you finished packing?”
“Yes, yes, only the pistol. Where—”
“All in due time,” John said. “Where’s your bag, Vicky?”
“Oh, are you going to carry it for me? How gallant.”
I ended up carrying the thing myself, since, after watching Schmidt drag his bulging suitcase toward the door, John decided he needed assistance more than I.
“What on earth have you got in here?” John demanded.
Schmidt looked self-conscious. “A few odds and ends. Necessities. What—”
John refused to talk until we were in the taxi on our way to wherever. Leaning back, hands folded, he said, “Instead of answering a string of questions, I shall expound briefly on the most recent developments. I didn’t mention my appointment because it was a last-minute arrangement, and I knew it wouldn’t take long. Helga’s reluctance to meet me was a strong indication that she’d heard something of interest, but I wanted more information than that and I didn’t want to discuss it on a line that might no longer be secure.”
“You think Suzi—” Schmidt clapped his hand over his mouth.
“No names,” John said. “It’s possible, yes.”
“And Hel——the other, it is—er—the one on Ludwigkirchplatz?”
“You know her, of course,” John said.
“
John cut him off. “She and several other important independent dealers had been notified of a recent theft. No details, only that it was an Egyptian antiquity of considerable value. She was asked to communicate immediately with the Supreme Council of Antiquities if she were approached by anyone offering such an object for sale. Or,” he added, after a slight pause, “if she were approached by me.”
“Hmmm,” said Schmidt.
“Hmmm indeed,” I agreed. “That’s strange. Why the SCA and not Interpol? And why mention your name?”
“She asked me the same questions,” John said. “My current reputation in the trade is impeccable. At least it was, up until now. Given the context, the mere mention of my name is enough to arouse certain doubts. I wouldn’t be the first dealer to go wrong.”
“You assured her of your innocence, I presume,” I said.
“No problem,” John said smugly. “I simply said I had heard rumors as well, and since I meant to be in Berlin anyhow, I was curious to know what, if anything, she had heard. I was shocked—shocked!—when she said my name had been mentioned. My distress moved her so much, she promised to let me know if anyone contacted her about the antiquity.”
“In other words, you put on one of your better performances,” I said.
“Butter would have melted in my mouth.” He sobered. “It’s more than odd, Vicky, it’s inexplicable. The—er —missing object is not the sort of thing people like her would handle even if it had been legally acquired, which, as the message made clear, it was not.”
“Perhaps it is not so inexplicable,” said Schmidt, frowning.
“What do you mean?” John asked sharply.
“Only that your once impeccable reputation is now being sullied,” Schmidt said in surprise. “As you have said, it is not unheard of that a dealer should succumb to temptation, if offered a prize of great value.”
“Very few dealers, I daresay, would be tempted by—by something like that,” John said. “How the bloody hell would one dispose of it?”
Schmidt made conciliatory noises. John had come close to losing his temper, which was unusual. And I had begun to wonder. Most dealers wouldn’t know how to handle a bizarre object like a famous mummy. But if anybody would…
N eed I say that our tickets to Cairo were first class?
I love traveling with Schmidt.
Schmidt had arranged for us to be met at the airport by a courier, who accepted a wad of money and our passports from Schmidt and went off to get our visas. He came back with the visas, and a wheelchair, into which Schmidt settled himself.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes. There is a special line for the handicapped.” Schmidt winked, and then let his face fall into lines of bravely controlled pain.
“He’s gotten worse,” I whispered to John. “Is there nothing to which the man will not stoop?”
“I certainly hope not. I’ve used the wheelchair method myself—bewigged, bandaged, and/or dribbling in a senile fashion—but so far Schmidt has lived up to my fondest expectations.”
Trailed by a small procession carrying our luggage, we proceeded to and, thanks to the wheelchair, handily through passport control. Beyond the security area, people lined the barrier waiting for arriving passengers. Foremost among them was a familiar form.
John said, “I’d better go on ahead and warn…Oops. Too late.”
Schmidt had already spotted Feisal. He let out a genial bellow and began waving. Until that moment Feisal had not spotted Schmidt. His expression was that of the hero in a horror film who has just seen the monster lurching toward him.
Schmidt jumped up and embraced Feisal. “We wanted to surprise you. Are you surprised?”
Feisal took a deep breath and proved himself to be the man I had always known him to be. “Yes. Yes, I am definitely…surprised. Hello, Schmidt. Vicky. Johnny…”
“You will come with us to the hotel,” Schmidt announced. “We are staying at the Nile Hilton. It is not my favorite hotel in Cairo, but it is convenient to the museum.”
Cairo traffic is vicious at all hours. It was well past midnight when we reached the hotel and were shown to our rooms. Schmidt’s was a suite, with a balcony looking down on the city. It was a glorious sight by night, glittering like a jeweled robe, with the Nile running through like a shining snake. I was admiring the view when Schmidt summoned me.
“Come, come, this is no time for nostalgia. We must have a council of war.”
Feisal sank down onto the sofa and fixed John with a baleful stare. “He knows. You told him. Why did you tell him?”
Tempted though I was to have John take the blame, fairness demanded that I own up. “It was my idea, Feisal.” The stare moved to me. “Uh—that is—both our ideas.”
“And why not?” Schmidt demanded. “Have I not proved my quality? Are we not like the four musketeers, one for all and all for one?”
“I want to be d’Artagnan,” I said.
Schmidt chuckled. “But it is I who am the greatest swordsman in Europe,
