Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [29]
I spoke without thinking, and after I had done so I was sorry I had let down my guard, even with someone as friendly as Alice. She didn’t pursue the matter, just nodded.
By the time Alice had finished showing me around I had begun to think more kindly of dark sunless places. I wasn’t the only one who was weary, sweat-stained, and red-faced when we assembled at the bus. The group that had been inside the pyramid looked as bad as I felt. Apparently they had enjoyed themselves, though. Sweet rhapsodized about Feisal’s lecture, and Bright kept nodding and grinning. I was happy to observe that Louisa’s veils were in tatters. Somebody must have stepped on her hem.
As I reclined in air-conditioned comfort sipping my iced drink, I tried to concentrate on the exotic scenery gliding past – the Step Pyramid, golden in the afternoon light, green fields of alfalfa and vegetables, barefoot children smiling and waving as we spoiled foreigners passed – but my mind was a jumble of disconnected impressions. ‘The Step Pyramid is two hundred and four feet high . . . He likes you because you treated him like a human being . . . O gods of the underworld, greet this pharaoh in peace . . . The poor woman was constantly overeating . . .’
Jen hadn’t been faking. Some unpleasant evidences of that still clung to my clothes. Would John really go to that length to carry out his plans? I felt reasonably certain the Cairo Museum was still intact; if he’d laid plans for an event to take place three weeks hence, they couldn’t be changed so quickly. Anyhow (I kept telling myself) I had now done my duty as a good little spy. Sweet and Bright knew John was the one they were after. I had been as direct as I dared; they couldn’t have misunderstood the message. It was out of my hands now; I hadn’t volunteered to defend the museum with six-shooters in hand.
The first person I saw when I walked up the gangplank was John. He was leaning on the rail, cigarette in hand. Fair hair becomingly ruffled by the breeze, shirt as fresh and clean as new-fallen snow, he surveyed the dusty, sunburned, limping crowd with kindly condescension.
‘Much better,’ he called, in response to a question from someone – Feisal, I think; it certainly wasn’t from me, I was speechless. ‘No cause for concern, the doctors said.’ He turned eyes as blue and expressionless as cornflowers on me and added, ‘I felt certain you’d want to know at the earliest possible moment.’
Whereupon he vanished, leaving me a prey – as Louisa Ferncliffe might have written – to a torrent of passionate, conflicting emotions. Chief among them was fury.
I plucked Suzi out of the group waiting at the desk for their room keys. ‘You’d better see the doctor about that sunburn,’ I said abruptly.
She looked surprised. ‘Is it that bad? It doesn’t hurt.’
‘Your back is bright red.’ That was a slight exaggeration, but she was bright pink all over the parts that showed.
My forceful personality (or something) prevailed; Suzi allowed herself to be towed away.
Carter earned his passage; he was on call twenty-four hours a day, ashore and on land, but the only time when one could count on finding him in the infirmary was after the tours returned, when he would be available ‘to attend to any minor injuries incurred.’ I hadn’t liked the sound of that; however, after seeing the rough terrain and feeling the heat of the sun, I could understand why people might be in need of attention for a variety of ‘minor’ ailments ranging from sunstroke to twisted ankles. The infirmary was an impressive set-up, spotlessly clean and very well equipped, including a locked cabinet that presumably contained drugs.
While Carter was inspecting Suzi, I asked about Jen. ‘Not a damned thing wrong with her except overindulgence and a touch of the usual virus,’ was the irritable reply. Apparently the doctor’s amour propre had been seriously ruffled. I could guess by whom. ‘She managed to persuade that officious son of hers to go on with the cruise, which he finally consented to do, after inspecting the hospital and interrogating