Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [152]
There’s a poem about a highwayman who came riding, riding, up to the old inn door. The soldiers used his sweetheart as a decoy, tying her to a chair with a rifle pointed at her breast. She managed to get one finger around the trigger, and when she heard him coming she pulled – ‘and warned him with her death.’
I always wondered why she didn’t just yell.
Oh, well, maybe he couldn’t have heard her over the pounding of his horse’s hooves. Or maybe it didn’t fit the metre. I didn’t have a rifle at my breast. Anyhow, John knew the soldiers were there.
I threw my head back and opened my mouth and screamed. But the name I called was not that of my lover. ‘Max! Hey, Max!’
John was the first one through the door, but Max was right behind him. It wasn’t until much later that I understood the significance of that sequence.
The Pavlonian conditioning didn’t seem to be as strong as Mary had believed. After a few steps John stopped. He had only glanced at me; his eyes were fixed on Mary.
‘More melodrama,’ Max said in exasperation. ‘How weary I am of this! You were forbidden to come here, Mary. Mr Tregarth is willing to cooperate. You will only irritate him if you persist in this nonsense.’
‘I am already irritated,’ John said. His eyes returned to my face. ‘Are you – ’
‘Fine, just fine,’ I said, stretching my mouth into a smile. My cheek hurt. ‘I do hope you have a couple of aces up your sleeve, because if you haven’t, this was not one of your brighter moves.’
He was still wearing Keith’s suit, but he had washed the cheap dye out of his hair. Avoiding my eyes, he remarked, to the room in general, ‘She tends to babble when she’s nervous. Mary does affect people that way. Get her out of here.’
Blenkiron was the next to arrive. ‘Damn it,’ he exclaimed. ‘Mary, I told you – ’
She laughed contemptuously. ‘What a conveniently bad memory you have, Larry.’
‘Well, I certainly didn’t give you permission to . . .’ He couldn’t even say the ugly words. ‘I’m sorry, Vicky. I told her to stay with you but I never authorized . . .’
‘Swell,’ I said. ‘So how about untying me?’
Nobody reacted to that naive suggestion. Mary backed off a few steps and Max said, with poorly concealed exasperation, ‘Can we now discuss the situation in a reasonable way? You have the pectoral, Mr Tregarth?’
‘You know I haven’t,’ John said. ‘You watched Rudi search me.’
‘Where is it?’
‘None of your damned business. Now, Maxie, don’t lose your temper. That pectoral is my ace in the hole. You don’t suppose I’ll meekly hand it over without getting something in return, do you?’
‘Need I ask what?’
‘Surely not. And please don’t insult my intelligence by suggesting you’ll turn her loose after I deliver the goods. I want her out of here and safely back at the Embassy. As soon as she telephones to say she’s there, and the ambassador confirms it, I’ll get the pectoral for you.’
‘We could force you to tell us,’ Max said.
‘You could certainly try,’ John said agreeably. Leaning against a chest of drawers, hands in his pockets, he was putting on a pretty good imitation of languid self-confidence, but the tension that vibrated along every nerve was evident to me at least. He was trying very hard not to look at me.
‘But it’s not the most efficient method of attaining your ends,’ he went on. ‘You know me well, Maxie; do you suppose I give a damn about the museum or the tomb or any bloody antiquity on the face of the earth? I’ll even go through with the robbery, if that’s what you want.’
‘You will?’ Blenkiron said eagerly. ‘But you said – ’
John raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t object to robbing the museum. The thing that put me off a bit was a strong suspicion that I wouldn’t survive the attempt. I’m willing to take my chances with the ordinary security system, but I object to being shot or stabbed in the back by one of my purported assistants.’
Max looked a little embarrassed. ‘I was against that,’ he said. ‘I felt sure you would expect something of the sort and there really was no need – ’
John