Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [147]
‘Take it easy, honey.’
‘And don’t call me honey!’
I thought I had behaved quite rationally and reasonably until Joanie escorted me to a small room that was obviously an infirmary or clinic. Another motherly grey-haired woman, wearing a sweater over her white uniform, rose to greet us.
‘So this is the young lady. Welcome home, my dear. We’re all so relieved to see you.’
I felt as if I were being smothered in cotton candy. They closed in on me, one on each side, and Tom entered, barring my way to the door.
‘How is she, Frances?’ he inquired, rubbing his hands and smiling. He thought the worst was over. He was in for a shock.
‘I haven’t had a chance to look at her. If you’ll just sit down, Miss Bliss – ’
I started to argue. Then, belatedly, I realized what I had done. Defending Feisal had been a bad mistake. Hostages sometimes end up identifying with their captors, and when the captor is young and handsome and the hostage is female . . . I made a last desperate effort to control myself, but in retrospect I admit I didn’t succeed very well.
‘What are you going to do?’ I demanded, backing away from the nurse. ‘I won’t have any shots. I hate shots.’
‘Just your blood pressure and pulse,’ the nurse said, as she would have spoken to a child. ‘No nasty shots, I promise.’
‘All right.’ I let her push me into a chair and fixed Tom with what I intended to be a firm, unhysterical look. It must have been more like a wild-eyed glare. ‘You stand there and listen to me.’
‘Believe me, Dr Bliss, there are a number of people who want nothing better than to listen to you. But,’ he added, with the first touch of kindly consideration he had displayed, ‘I’m damned if I’m going to let them at you until I’m sure you’re okay. I called your – uh – your friend. He’s on his way.’
‘My friend?’ A wild hope dawned. Had Schmidt and John made it? If they had caught the 10 a.m. train . . .
‘Yes.’ Tom smiled. ‘He’s been calling every hour on the hour.’
‘Normal,’ the nurse announced, unwinding the blood pressure cuff. She sounded disappointed.
‘I told you so. Now – ’
‘Open wide.’
She propped my mouth open with a stick and peered in.
I don’t suppose it would have made any difference. The whole business only took a few minutes. But if I had had a chance to ask one question . . .
I had forgotten that I wasn’t the only important American in Egypt. I had forgotten it takes only sixty minutes to fly from Luxor to Cairo. They brought him directly to the clinic. Well, wouldn’t you escort a distraught millionaire into the presence of the fiancée he has lost and just recovered?
When I saw him I jumped up, spilling the glass of water the nurse had offered and the little white pills she was trying to persuade me to take. There was no place to go. The room had only one door. When he caught me in his arms I tried to fight free.
‘Darling, it’s all right!’ he exclaimed, holding me tight. ‘Oh, Vicky, I’ve been so worried. Don’t talk, sweetheart, just let me hold you.’
Calm, reasoned behaviour might have saved me, though that is questionable. It was also impossible. I couldn’t stand having him touch me. Instead of expensive aftershave and fresh linen I smelled sweat and blood; instead of his smooth well-groomed face I saw the gaping hole that had been Jean-Louis’s face, and Feisal falling, and John slashed to bloody ribbons by the people this man had hired. I struggled and screamed and tried to bite. I can’t blame them for thinking the emotional collapse they expected had finally occurred. It took two of them to hold my arm rigid so the needle could go in. The last thing I heard was Larry’s voice. ‘My poor darling. God bless you, all of you; I’ll take care of her now.’
Chapter Fourteen
I
RIGHT BACK WHERE I’d started.
So I thought, when I woke up to find myself in a large room furnished with antiques. I felt quite calm and relaxed.