Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [124]
I bent over and rummaged in the basket Granny had packed. She must have emptied her larder. There was enough food for a dozen people – bread, boiled eggs, fruit, a six-pack of soda. I opened one of the cans and handed it to John.
‘I don’t know what this is – ’ I began.
‘Neither do I. It tastes like battery acid. Never mind, it’s liquid. Where are we?’
‘A quarter of an hour from Nag Hammadi,’ Feisal answered. ‘I hope it was only a morbid fancy that made you mention roadblocks? If we don’t cross here – ’
‘There are other bridges farther north. And, if memory serves, a road of sorts on the east bank?’
‘Yes, to both. You didn’t answer my question. What makes you think they might be waiting for us at Hammadi?’
‘Foggington-Smythe followed Vicky out of the hotel. He was watching when we left.’
‘Why didn’t you say so earlier?’ Feisal demanded.
‘Why should I? Either he saw us or he didn’t. If he did, and if a lot of other equally unpleasant surmises are correct, they could be waiting for us at Nag Hammadi.’
‘But how – ’ I began.
‘Oh, Christ, do I have to spell everything out for you? Use your head. Your guess is as good as mine as to what Blenkiron will and can do, but his resources are extensive. Always anticipate the worst, remember?’
He had edged away from me and was sitting bolt upright, staring straight ahead. Ten minutes, I thought. Give him that much, at least.
Feisal began, ‘What are we – ’
I leaned forward. ‘How well do you know the roads?’
There was a perceptible pause before Feisal answered. ‘That depends on what roads you mean. The main north-south highway crosses the river at Hammadi and runs along the west bank from there to Cairo. There’s a secondary road on the east bank, but parts of it haven’t been completed.’
‘Where are the bridges?’ I asked.
I was trying to buy John a little more time, but as Feisal expanded on the geographical features I found myself wondering how Schmidt meant to employ same. Damn it, I knew the old boy better than John did, I ought to be able to follow his thinking.
‘So the next bridge after Hammadi is at Sohag? The train Schmidt took – might have taken – stops there, doesn’t it?’
‘That’s right. It’s about fifty miles from Nag Hammadi.’
‘And the next crossing is at Asyut.’
‘Right again.’
‘Asyut is the second train stop. After that there’s only one before Cairo.’
‘Minya,’ Feisal agreed.
‘That’s where Schmidt stayed the night before he joined the cruise,’ I said thoughtfully.
John cleared his throat. ‘Are you suggesting he might have left some of his luggage there? My theories may have been a trifle exiguous, but that is really – ’
‘No, listen.’ The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. ‘Schmidt stocked up on spy stuff before he ever left Munich. He even had contact lenses made in various colours! He suspected this cruise was more than a simple vacation. Who would know better than Schmidt that I wouldn’t try to pass myself off as an expert on a subject I know nothing about without good and sufficient reason? I’ll bet he’s been plotting and planning ever since he arrived in Egypt. He’d have done that just for the fun of it. He spotted Max immediately, and that confirmed – ’
‘Bloody hell,’ John said. ‘You mean the little elf’s been on to us all along? Why didn’t you tell me this?’
‘There hasn’t been time,’ I began.
‘Schmidt is bad enough,’ John went on bitterly. ‘The two of you together . . . Feisal, stop the bloody car. No, not in the middle of the bloody road, pull over as soon as you can find a suitable place. Now then, Vicky, perhaps you can bring yourself to tell me precisely what Schmidt said to you and what you said to Schmidt before you sallied forth to rescue me. You did have sense enough to make contingency plans, didn’t you, in case you were held up or Schmidt had to vacate his room?’
The medicine had cleared his head but it certainly hadn’t improved his disposition. I realized, with only faint surprise, that we were back on the old footing.