Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [75]
‘That, of course. But I expect most of them will choose to remain in Luxor for a few days, since this is the high point of the tour. Fortunately – or unfortunately, from the viewpoint of the tourism industry – there are plenty of hotel rooms empty. After that . . .’
He looked expectantly at me. ‘Some may decide to return to Cairo,’ I muttered. ‘Sooner or later everybody will end up in Cairo. Where the museum is.’
‘Yes. Vicky, have you any idea of who these people are?’
‘Yeah.’ I gestured. ‘Him.’
Schmidt and John had stopped, waiting for us to join them.
‘Not Anton!’ Larry exclaimed.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Him.’ I couldn’t pronounce his name.
‘Mr Tregarth?’ Larry sounded almost as incredulous. He slowed his steps. ‘But he’s a well-known – ’
‘Crook. I’ve encountered him before. I don’t know who the others are; he’s the only one I recognized.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t bring his pregnant bride along.’ Larry looked shocked.
‘Excellent cover, wouldn’t you say?’
I heard John laugh. Schmidt had taught him a new one. A few words floated back to me: ‘When I woke up, I had shackles on my feet . . .’
‘Come. Vicky, hurry, why are you so slow?’ Schmidt yelled. ‘It is a glorious view.’
‘One more thing,’ Larry said quickly. ‘I want you to stay with me while you’re in Luxor. I have a house here, you know – ’
‘Of course I know. You’re holding the reception there, right?’
‘Right. You’ll be safer there than in a hotel. Anton too, of course.’
Schmidt has twenty-twenty hearing. ‘What about me?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll tell you later, Schmidt,’ I said. ‘It’s a surprise.’
Schmidt loves surprises. Beaming, he demanded that I admire the view.
The temple of the female pharaoh, Hatshepsut, lay below, its colonnades and courtyards sharp-etched by shadow and sunlight. It is probably the most graceful, perfectly proportioned structure in Egypt. I had looked forward to seeing it.
But not under these circumstances. Beside me, hands in his pockets, hair shining like silver-gilt, John was humming wider his breath. ‘‘‘It takes a worried man to sing a worried song . . . I’m worried now – but I won’t be worried long.’”
That’s what he thought.
Chapter Eight
I
HAMID WAITED until we had assembled for lunch before making the announcement. There was the usual chorus of complaints from certain parties, but the sputtering and shouts of ‘Outrageous’ faded as Hamid went on to outline the alternatives. They were a good deal more generous than most companies would have offered.
That afternoon we would be transferred to the Winter Palace Hotel – all expenses paid of course. After the prearranged four days in the Theban area, passengers who wished to do so could board another cruise ship for Aswan, where they would spend several days before sailing back to Luxor. They might instead opt to return to Cairo by air for a two-week stay at Mena House or one of the four-star Cairo hotels.
‘What do you say, Vicky?’ Schmidt demanded. ‘What shall we do? Me, I vote for Cairo. Aswan is sehr interresant, but except for the nobles’ tombs – ’
‘We don’t have to make up our minds this minute.’
I couldn’t take my eyes off John. His face was as bland and uninformative as an oyster as he listened to Hamid. I had no doubt what his decision would be. He had known this would happen; he must have had a hand in arranging it. Mary was watching him too, her expression faintly troubled. She wouldn’t be consulted, but if I had been in her shoes (which God forbid), I’d have had my own reasons for preferring Cairo.
Shotgun wedding, I thought, savouring the ugly phrase. Mary’s daddy must be some guy. But he could never have cornered such an expert at elusion if John hadn’t had his own reasons for embracing matrimony. The ripe, juicy chunk of mango I was chewing tasted like sand as the inevitable calculations reeled off in my head. At least six weeks before she could be sure, maybe longer – a few more weeks making the arrangements for the wedding . . .
Months. It must have been going on for months. The same months