Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [66]
‘The men are off today,’ he explained. ‘It’s Friday. Pat will be sorry to have missed you; he’s gone to Luxor to work at the library at Chicago House.’
He showed us some of the reliefs. They were fragmentary but very beautiful, delicate low reliefs like the ones at Sakkara. He and Larry went off into a spate of technical discussion, and before long Sweet said he thought he and Bright would go back. Larry looked at his watch. ‘Yes, go ahead. Tell them we’ll be along shortly. I’d like to have a quick look at the burial chamber.’
He produced a huge flashlight from his pocket. ‘No need for that, sir,’ Ralph said proudly. ‘We’ve run a wire and stuck up a few lightbulbs. I’ll turn them on, shall I?’
From the northwest corner of the pit, a gently sloping ramp led down. It was low-ceilinged but fairly well lit by a series of bare bulbs. I followed Larry and Ralph until we got to the dreaded, anticipated hole in the ground. The top of a rough wooden ladder showed at the edge of the shaft.
Somebody called from up above, and Ralph said, ‘Damn. I’d better go see – ’ He scrambled back up the ramp. Larry, already on the ladder, looked up at me and for once in my life I decided to be sensible instead of foolhardy.
‘Sorry. I can’t . . .’
I tried to keep my voice steady, but I didn’t succeed. Larry looked startled. ‘Why, Vicky, I had no idea. Is that what was bothering you when we were in the royal tomb at Amarna? I thought you looked . . . We’ll go back. I don’t have to do this.’
‘No, you go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.’
‘If you’re sure . . .’ His head sank down out of sight.
I thought the scream, high and piercing as a bird’s call, had come from Larry until he echoed it. His startled cry was followed by a rattle and a crash. The lights went out.
There was daylight behind me, only thirty feet away – a bright, heavenly square of brightness. I could crawl up the ramp . . . and leave Larry down below in the dark. The ladder must have broken. He had fallen from it – how far? I heard a faint groan. It died into silence.
Did I mention that I shared that tunnel under the Schloss in Rothenburg with two other people, both of them injured? One of them was Tony, once my Significant Other, still my cherished friend. The groan from the darkness shot me back into the past, and for a few horrible moments I lost track of where I was and when I was. I thought it was Tony down there, unconscious, gasping for breath. I had to go to him, help him . . .
I didn’t. I couldn’t. I rolled myself into a ball like a reluctant foetus and when the daylight behind me was blotted out I started to whimper.
Chapter Seven
I
HANDS TOOK HOLD of me and tried to unwind me. I fought them frantically until it dawned on me that there was something familiar about that grip. ‘Tony,’ I croaked. ‘Oh, Tony, damn it, I thought you were – ’
He slapped me, hard. After my head had settled back onto my neck I squinted up at him. It wasn’t Tony. Of course it wasn’t. Tony was in Chicago, not in that filthy tunnel under the Schloss. Neither was I. I was in Egypt in a filthy tunnel in a tomb,with . . .
‘You bastard,’ I said feebly.
‘How pitifully inadequate.’ John hauled me to my feet and propped me against the wall, out of his way. Leaning over the shaft he called, ‘Blenkiron! Speak up, don’t be shy.’
The voice echoed hollowly. ‘I’m okay. You’ll have to get a rope. The ladder . . .’
‘Hang on.’
‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded.
John turned to me. I couldn’t make out his features; the only light came from the top of the ramp and even that distant illumination dimmed as people crowded around the opening, spouting agitated questions and exclamations. I sensed, rather than saw, the movement when his raised arm fell to his side. I had hit him a lot harder than he had hit me. Apparently he had decided not to even things up with a second slap. Too many people watching.
‘You have a positive genius for irrelevance,