Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [74]
Feisal nodded and Schmidt exclaimed, ‘Good, good. An excellent idea! I will come too.’
‘But Herr Direktor,’ Feisal protested, ‘it is a long, hard walk. Forty-five minutes . . .’ He eyed Schmidt’s rotund shape dubiously and added, ‘Or longer.’
What was more, Schmidt hadn’t been invited. I didn’t waste my breath mentioning this. The walk might be the lesser of two evils. It couldn’t be more taxing for Schmidt than the hot dusty airlessness of the tombs.
‘We’ll take it easy,’ Larry said, with a reassuring nod at me.
‘An enticing prospect,’ said John. ‘I’ll join you, if I may.’
‘Yes, a walk would be lovely,’ Mary said eagerly.
‘No.’ He turned to her. ‘It would be too strenuous for you, in your condition.’
Mary’s jaw dropped and a charming blush spread over her face. I don’t know what my face looked like, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t charming.
‘Anyone else?’ Larry asked, after a moment of embarrassed silence. ‘All right, then, we’ll see you all later.’
Ed hadn’t said a word, but I was not surprised to find him making up one of our party. He tried to give Schmidt a hand during the first and most difficult part of the hike, the steep climb up from the Valley, but was huffily rebuffed. Once we had reached the top, Schmidt mopped his perspiring brow and gasped triumphantly, ‘Ha! Such a fuss you make over a little walk. If you had climbed the Zugspitze and the Matterhorn . . .’ His breath gave out, so he left it there, and we all looked impressed except John, who was grinning like an idiot.
We admired the view for longer than it deserved, to give Schmidt time to recover, and Larry pointed out the locations of other tombs. Pale in the sunlight, the great pyramid-shaped peak called the Lady of the West rose over the valley it guarded.
The next part of the walk led across the rocky summit of the plateau. The path was rough but level, and Schmidt charged valiantly ahead. John kept pace with him. I started to quicken my step. Larry took my arm. ‘I want to talk to you, Vicky. That’s why I suggested this.’
I glanced over my shoulder. Ed was some distance behind, hands in his pockets.
‘What about?’ I asked.
Larry lowered his voice. ‘About a mutual friend. His name is Burckhardt.’
I stumbled over a stone no bigger than a Ping-Pong ball. Larry’s hand steadied me. ‘Sorry. You didn’t know?’
‘I don’t know a damn thing,’ I sputtered. ‘That son of a polecat Burck – ’
‘Let’s not mention the name again, okay? Don’t get the wrong idea, Vicky.’ His face wrinkled in an attractive, deprecating smile. ‘I haven’t been leading a double life, like some superhero in the comics. I was informed of the situation by the Egyptian government. They know how intensively I have worked for better relations between Egypt and the West, and how deeply I care about the wonderful antiquities of this country. The announcement I will make this evening . . . Well, you’ll hear that in due course. The idea that someone could use this trip as a cover for activities designed to destroy everything I’ve worked for . . .’
‘I understand.’
‘I know you do. And I can’t tell you how much I – all of us – appreciate what you’re doing. It was for your own protection that I was told not to contact you earlier. Now things have changed.’
‘That’s why Mr Schroeder came,’ I said. ‘To tell you – ’
‘That the refrigerating unit didn’t break down, Vicky. It was a deliberate act of sabotage. It can’t be repaired, it will have to be replaced. God knows how long that will take. The tour will have to be cancelled. Hamid will make the announcement when we return at noon. You see what that means, don’t you?’
My eyes were fixed on Schmidt, who was gesturing animatedly. A sound like the howl of a coyote drifted to my ears. I caught a few of the words; they had to do with heaven, mama, and train whistles.
‘I’m not sure I do,’ I said slowly. ‘What alternatives