Death on Tour - Janice Hamrick [95]
Mohammad stood aghast in front of Fiona and Flora, and at their feet lay Alan Stratton, motionless. My heart jumped into my throat. They had killed him.
“What have you done?” Mohammad asked again, his voice hoarse and tight with fear.
The shaft of pain that pierced my heart froze the scream that welled up in my throat. Only a small moan escaped my lips, unheard over the beat of the background music.
Flora gave a girlish giggle and held up something that glinted in the light. I was pretty sure it was a knife.
“He was following us, the bad man.” She kicked him none too gently in the back. He stirred a little in protest.
Mohammad lurched forward. “He’s still alive!”
My heart started beating again, or at least I became aware of it, pounding in my chest. He was alive! Alan was alive. I crouched lower, trying to think what to do.
“You said we couldn’t kill anyone else, MoMo,” said Fiona. “So we decided to let you kill him.” Her voice was both peevish and dreadfully cold.
“What do you mean? There will be no killing. No killing!” Even from here, I could hear the outrage in his voice.
“Oh, we think you’ll change your mind. We’ve been watching this one the whole trip. We’re pretty sure he’s been on to our little plan from the start, probably hired by WorldPal to investigate—isn’t that right, Mr. Stratton?”
Alan gave no answer. I wasn’t sure he was conscious.
Fiona went on. “He’s been sniffing around everyone in the group. He’s very dedicated, I must say. Of course, he didn’t suspect us. Even after he ran through almost everyone else, he never really gave us a second look. I told you, our cover is perfect.”
“Then why couldn’t you have left him alone?” whispered Mohammad.
“Wrong place, wrong time. He didn’t suspect us, but he seems to have guessed that something was happening tonight. I’m not quite sure how he knew that.” She frowned and glanced down.
“He would have ruined everything,” added Flora. She was now staring up at the big moon. The light reflected off her huge glasses. “And now you can kill him yourself. If you don’t, he’ll have us all arrested. We can’t have that, can we, MoMo?”
“Don’t call me that,” Mohammad whispered. “And no. We cannot kill him. Another death? Every policeman in the country will be called in.”
Flora and Fiona both laughed. “We’ve already thought of that for you. You’ll have to bury the body in a dune somewhere. He didn’t come with us tonight. No one will notice he’s missing until we’re all getting ready to go to the airport tomorrow, and by then it will be too late. Anni will take us back and leave you to start a search for him. We’ll be home and counting our money before anyone notices. And, if you do your job right, they’ll never find the body.”
I couldn’t understand the change in their voices. The women standing in the moonlight looked like the ditzy sisters who had plagued us with their inane chatter and constant foolish wandering. But they now sounded sharp and logical and very, very cold.
“WorldPal will know,” Mohammad protested. “If they hired him, they’ll know he wouldn’t just wander off. We have to let him go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He knows about all three of us now.”
Mohammad paused, then said, “We can leave the country. If we left right now, we could catch a plane to Cairo this evening.”
Fiona shook her head pityingly. “You’ve lost your nerve. And your head. Leave now? We haven’t even made the exchange.”
“And we are not leaving without our pay, MoMo,” said Flora.
Mohammad sat down on a fallen pillar and put his head in his hands. In the dim light, he looked more like a bear than ever, his huge shoulders straining at the heavy fabric of his jacket.
Alan stirred weakly.
“What did you do to him?” asked Mohammad. “Did you stab him, too?”
“Goodness, no. We used morphine. There was a nice little supply in the ship’s first aid cupboard.”
“A knife would have been much easier,” added Flora. “The morphine took a minute to kick in. He almost got away, didn’t he, Foney?”
“Yes, he gave us quite a fright.