“But we aren’t the police,” Feisal said. “That was an idle threat; they couldn’t know whether you had told
“They would know if you turned up at the right place at the right time,” Ashraf said with sudden fury. “Which you did. You were seen. She was extremely angry. I swore by every saint in several pantheons that I hadn’t said a word to any of you. Fortunately she believed me.”
“What a nice, trusting lady she must be,” I said. “Some conspirator!”
Ashraf leaned back, legs extended, ankles crossed, lips curving in a smile. “She was amenable to persuasion. But perhaps I should start at the beginning.”
He had found the second message waiting for him when he arrived at his house in Luxor. (He had others, Feisal told us later, at Sharm el Sheikh and Alexandria.) It instructed him to meet his contact in the Hypostyle Hall at Karnak between twelve midnight and 1:00 A.M. They were thoughtful enough to give him twenty-four hours to arrange the matter. If he failed to show up, he would have cause to regret it.
“I came to you to ask whether you had made any progress. You presented me with a variety of unfounded theories, but no facts. It became evident to me that you were incapable of carrying out your assignment, or unwilling to do so. So…” He took out a fancy silver case, extracted a cigarette, and lit it with a fancy silver lighter. “I decided to proceed on my own. I invited a number of dignitaries and archaeologists to justify my reason for opening the temple. I staked myself out near the entrance in the hope of identifying my contact when he entered; when I saw you three, I realized I ought to have anticipated that Dr. Schmidt would learn of the occasion from one of his several thousand dear friends, and that you would be unable to resist enjoying the experience.”
“Enjoy, hell,” I said. “We went because we had figured out what you were up to. The fact that you hadn’t invited us was suspicious.”
“It was ratiocination of the most brilliant kind,” Schmidt added.
“If you say so,” Ashraf said, not believing a word of it. “In any event, I decided your presence would not interfere with my plan. I had been given a specific cross-reference, and the area is extensive.” He blew a perfect smoke ring and leaned back to admire it.
“Go on,” I said. We should have banged him on the head again in order to keep him off balance. He was enjoying his place in the spotlight.
“As I said, when I encountered a woman I was taken by surprise. However, she gave me the word I had been told to expect—”
“Mummy?” I couldn’t resist.
“How did you know?” Ashraf demanded in surprise.
I had meant it as a feeble joke, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Smug is a game two can play. I gestured for him to continue.
She had been angry and visibly nervous at first, “but I soon put her at her ease. We—er—negotiated. I promised her immunity and a safe haven if she accepted my offer.”
“How much?” Feisal asked bluntly.
Ashraf hesitated. “Two hundred and fifty thousand, for herself.”
“In exchange for Tut’s current address?” I asked.
Feisal and Ashraf both flinched. “I wish you wouldn’t be so frivolous about this,” the latter said. “In essence, yes, that is what we agreed. We were about to set up our next and final meeting when your friend interfered. When I recovered from that cowardly blow, he and she were both gone.”
He lit another cigarette, looking pleased with himself.
He’d told a plausible story, one that made him look like both hero and victim. I wondered how much spin he’d put on it. I was prepared to believe that one of the gang was ready to make a deal. Criminals are not noted for loyalty to one another. Ashraf had private means. He could probably raise that much if he had to.
“Ashraf, you damned fool,” I said. “Didn’t it occur to you that someone would be keeping an eye on your lady friend? I hope for her sake the other guy didn’t overhear too much. Crooks have ways of dealing with traitors.”
“He must have overheard a good deal,” Ashraf admitted. “He struck me down just as we were about to come to an agreement.”
We had to come to it, sooner or later. “He was behind you,” I said, in a last-ditch effort. “How do you know it was John—Mr. Tregarth?”
“I caught only a glimpse. I heard a sound, and started to turn. But I saw enough. How many fair-haired individuals were present tonight?”
“Several, I should think.”
“But only one who is involved in this affair,” Ashraf said triumphantly. “Up to his neck, I should add. Why would he have gone to the temple unless he knew a meeting was planned? You claim you were able to anticipate my intentions through—ratiocination, was it not?—and I am willing to consider the possibility that Tregarth has deceived you as he tried to deceive me; but the evidence against him is strong. If he was not there, where was he? Where is he now?”
“He’ll turn up,” I said. “With a perfectly good explanation.”
“Let me know when he does.” Ashraf put out his cigarette and stood up. “It is late and I am feeling a trifle fatigued. Can I give you a lift, Feisal?”
Feisal looked as if he would like to refuse, but exhaustion overcame pride. None of us was in the mood to go on rehashing the affair. The two men left; Schmidt trudged off to his room; I hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door into the hall, peeled off the outer layers of clothing, and collapsed into bed.
I was so tired, every muscle in my body ached, but my brain wouldn’t shut down. Ashraf had presented a circumstantial but damning case. He wasn’t the only one who claimed to have seen John. Suzi had too, if we could believe her. And what had become of Suzi? Feisal had been following her when he heard Ashraf being attacked. Could it have been Suzi who hit him? She had blond hair, cut short like a man’s. That was all Ashraf had seen, the glimmer of light on a head of fair hair. Feisal had only seen a woman who was wearing a head scarf.
The windows were rectangles of pale gray. Dawn wasn’t far off. I was too exhausted to get up and close the drapes. I pulled the sheet over my head and fell asleep.
B right sunlight hit me in the eyes and woke me. My watch informed me it was almost ten. I rolled over onto the cold, empty space next to me. The rustle of bedclothes produced a knock at the door.
“Are you awake?” Schmidt, who else. He must have been standing right outside, with his ear pressed to the panel.
“No.”
“I will order breakfast.” Footsteps retreated.
Having been left with no choice in the matter, I dragged myself into the shower. In fact, I felt better than I had any reason to expect. My subconscious hadn’t come up with any answers to the questions that had kept me awake the night before, though.
I got dressed, realizing I had better send some laundry out too. I was buttoning my last clean shirt when the door opened, after what I can only call a perfunctory knock.
“You are dressed,” said Schmidt.
“Sorry about that.”
“There is coffee,” said Schmidt, resigned. “And Feisal is here.”
I didn’t ask whether John had returned. Schmidt would have said so.
The waiter had been and gone and Schmidt was tucking into a plate of eggs and turkey sausages. I accepted a cup of coffee from Feisal.
“Did you get anything useful out of Ashraf?” I asked.
Feisal made a wry face. “All he did was gloat about his cleverness and scold me for queering the deal.”
“How much of his story do you think is true?”
“The basic facts, I believe,” said Schmidt thoughtfully. “But there are many unanswered questions. I have now heard Suzi’s version of what transpired.”
“You’ve been a busy little bee this morning. Sorry I overslept.”
“A man in my physical condition does not require much sleep.” Schmidt smeared jam on a roll. “In accordance with my new policy I expressed concern over her safety and offered to tell her what had happened to Ashraf, since I assumed she would already have heard of it.”
