Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [138]
‘Why, I told him the truth, of course.’
‘Oh, God.’ John collapsed back onto the hard pillow.
‘That you had discovered a plot directed against the museum and were on your way to Cairo to disclose it, with the villains in hot pursuit,’ Schmidt went on.
‘In those exact words, I suppose.’ He let out an involuntary sigh as I began wiping his face with a wet cloth. ‘Well, it could be worse. You didn’t go into detail?’
‘I told him no more than that,’ Schmidt said indignantly. ‘It is an old rule of espionage, the need to know. Besides, he would have thought me verrückt if I had told him the entire truth. And now you must rest. Perhaps a sleeping pill, eh? I have with me – ’
‘No pills,’ I said. ‘He’s taken too many already.’
Feisal and Keith returned at that point. ‘How is he?’ the latter asked, squatting beside the bed. ‘God Almighty. How did he – ’
‘A slight accident,’ John said. ‘I’m prone to them. Especially when I’m in the company of certain people.’
‘If he’s complaining he’s back to normal,’ said Feisal. He shoved a heap of garments off the chair and sat down.
‘You all look as if you could use a drink,’ Keith said. ‘I’ve got a bottle of bourbon.’
‘And there is beer,’ Schmidt offered. ‘I brought with me – ’
‘Beer, of course,’ I said. ‘Where there’s Schmidt there’s always beer. Sorry, boys, but we are not going to have a party. Everybody out. He needs to rest.’
‘Just . . . one more thing.’ John’s brief burst of energy was fading. He forced his eyes open. ‘Schmidt. How did you get here?’
‘Why, by the train of course. My cryptic message to you – ’
‘Was received and deciphered,’ John said gravely. ‘Which train?’
‘It left Luxor at six in the evening. It tore my heart in two to leave you, Vicky, before I could know whether you had succeeded in your courageous rescue, but I felt certain you would, and if you did not, I could serve you best by going for help as quickly as possible. So – ’
‘You left the hotel shortly after I did.’ I was beginning to understand what was on John’s mind, and to share the wild curiosity that kept him conscious. ‘I suppose you were . . . disguised?’
‘Aber natürlich. They might have been watching for us at the station. Would you like to see how I disguised myself?’
‘I can hardly wait,’ John murmured.
Schmidt rummaged among the articles on the table. He was too pleased with himself simply to display the garments; he had to put them on – a long, dusty black robe, a headcloth of the same colour, and an opaque veil that covered his face from the bridge of his nose to the end of his chin.
‘I wore also my contact lenses,’ said the chubby little Egyptian woman in a muffled voice. ‘They made my eyes water very much because the windows of the car were open and there was a great deal of dust and sand. Such a useful costume, eh? I did not even have to cut off my moustache, though I would have done it, Vicky, if . . . What is wrong?’
‘He’s fainted,’ I said. I didn’t blame him.
He felt cooler after I had sponged him off, and he had passed from unconsciousness to what seemed to be normal sleep. After washing the parts of me that showed, and a few that didn’t, I went into the next room, where the party was in full swing.
Schmidt jumped up from his chair. From the chair, I should say; there was only one. ‘Beer or bourbon, Vicky?’
‘Neither. I . . . Oh, what the hell. Bourbon.’
‘You should rest too.’ Schmidt assisted me into the chair and patted me.
‘I will. After we’ve decided what to do next.’
‘At the moment our options are somewhat limited,’ Feisal said dryly. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor. In his rumpled, dusty clothes, his face dark with a day’s growth of beard, no one would have known him for the well-groomed young professional of the Queen of the Nile. We’ll have to stay here till Johnny’s fit again. When will he – ’
‘How the hell should I know?’ I took a swallow, shuddered, and took another one. ‘Sorry, Feisal, I didn’t mean to snap at you. If he’s not better – a lot better – by tomorrow, I’ll get him to a doctor. You