Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [128]
The door finally opened and Feisal went inside. John had gotten out of the car and was leaning against the door, hands in his jacket pockets. I’d never known him to carry a weapon before. I wondered if he really would use the gun or if the guy inside the house would shoot first.
Feisal was only gone for ten minutes. When he returned he was accompanied by his – friend? He didn’t look very friendly. He had wound his woollen scarf around his head and throat, but I could see his face clearly in the bright moonlight.
‘It’s all right,’ Feisal said, eyes fixed on John’s right-hand pocket. ‘He’s agreed. He’s not happy about it, but he has agreed.’
‘Good.’ John took his hand out of his pocket and opened the car door. ‘Come on, Vicky.’
The sight of me didn’t make the other guy any happier. He let out a spate of low-voiced Arabic and began waving his arms. I gave him an ingratiating smile. ‘What’s he mad about?’ I asked.
‘Everything,’ Feisal said. ‘I don’t blame him. The situation has deteriorated, if that is possible. They’re setting up checkpoints on this side of the river now. And along the Red Sea highway.’
‘That’s encouraging,’ John said coolly. ‘They don’t know which route we’ve taken.’
‘They’ll soon find out if we don’t get moving. This way.’
We followed our unwilling host to the back of the house, where the jeep – or, to be more accurate, the rusting skeleton of a jeep – was parked. The doors were tied on with rope. I climbed over the side, noting, as I sat down, that there were a few springs left. One, at least.
Feisal dumped the luggage in on top of me and turned to John. ‘How much money have we?’
‘A couple of hundred pounds. Why?’
‘We’re going to need more supplies. Water, blankets, petrol. No, don’t argue, just listen. The moon will be down before long and I daren’t risk driving this route in the dark. We’ll have to hole up somewhere for the rest of the night, and probably all day tomorrow. I presume you don’t want to arrive in broad daylight?’
John began, ‘It’s only thirty or forty miles – ’
‘As the vulture flies. You’ve never done this. I have. You don’t know this country. I do.’
The moonlight drained all the colour from John’s face. It looked like bleached bone. I said impulsively, ‘You’ve got to get some rest before we go much farther, John.’
He turned on me. ‘I told you to keep quiet.’
‘Keep quiet yourself. Feisal, how long – ’
Feisal waved his hands wildly. ‘Don’t ask. Don’t ask any more questions, either of you. Leave this to me.’
Our reluctant ally was becoming more reluctant by the minute, but – in exchange for all the money we possessed – he grudgingly produced a few jerricans of gas, a couple of blankets – taken off a donkey, to judge by the smell – several bottles of water, and a six-pack of what turned out to be fizzy lemon-flavoured soda. Our departure was not marked by formal farewells. I started to say thank you, but the man just shook his head and trudged off.
After a few abortive coughs the engine started. The racket was appalling. It must have roused every sleeper who wasn’t already awake, but not a light showed in any of the windows.
I popped the top of a can and poured half a cup of lemonade down my front when Feisal threw the jeep into gear. We went bouncing off across the plain; there may have been a track of sorts, but you couldn’t prove it by me. I clenched my teeth to keep from biting my tongue and refrained from comment. I knew why Feisal was proceeding at such an uncomfortable speed. We had to get well away from the village and into hiding before morning, and the moon was setting. I had an unpleasant feeling I also knew why Feisal didn’t want to drive in the dark, and that suspicion was confirmed when I saw we were heading straight for the cliffs that rose sheer ahead. They call them wadis – canyons, cut by water, in the ramparts of the high desert. Flash floods and natural erosion have littered the uneven ground with rubble varying from pebbles to Chevy-sized boulders. The one into which Feisal drove, without slackening speed, was fairly wide at first, and there was a track