Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [77]
‘How about you?’
‘I’m out of it.’ Alice made no effort to conceal her relief. ‘They’ve asked me to accompany the group that will be going on to Aswan.’
‘Then you’ve talked to – someone?’
The lounge was emptying, but I was wary of specific references.
‘Not yet. I’m supposed to meet – someone – at the Luxor Temple later this afternoon. But I can’t imagine that my services will be required any longer. The people who – the people concerned won’t be going to Aswan.’ She drained her glass and rose. ‘I was going to resign anyhow. I’m too old for this sort of thing. See you later.’
I let her go on before I followed. She was undoubtedly correct. The passengers who opted for the Aswan cruise had to be innocents. The Cairo-bound crowd was the one to be watched.
The last of the shore-tour group was leaving the lobby when I got there, to find my escort waiting – Schmidt, Larry, and the inevitable Ed. The open doors led, not to the gangplank but to the lobby of another cruise ship. We had to pass throngh it to reach the dock. Sometimes there were as many as five moored abreast, Larry said.
The car waiting for us looked as if it had been custom-built for a sheikh, and I felt sure the tinted glass was bulletproof. Ed rode up in front with the chauffeur, which left the three of us in splendid isolation in the back. There was room for the sheikh’s four legal wives and a couple of concubines.
The Shari el-Bahr el-Nil, familiarly known as the corniche, runs along the riverbank. It is a handsome boulevard with a tree-lined promenade on one side and on the other a fascinating mélange of ancient temples and modern hotels and souvenir shops. We passed the Winter Palace, where our fellow passengers were to stay, and went on for another mile or so before turning into a narrow driveway. The walls ahead resembled those of a fort. They were topped with wicked-looking coils of barbed wire, and the closed gates appeared to be fashioned of steel. They swung slowly open as the car approached.
I pinched Schmidt. ‘You know, Schmidt, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.’
It was like the sudden switch from black and white to Technicolor in the film. For the past mile we had driven past high-rise hotels and storefronts adorned with garish signs in Arabic and half a dozen other languages. Behind these grim walls were green lawns and flower beds bright with blossoms. Winding paths led between the trees to the buildings whose rooflines showed through the leaves. The main house was a low, unpretentious structure of pale brick. Two storeys in height, it was roofed with red tiles and had balconies sprouting out from the upper floor.
Schmidt didn’t answer. He was gaping in childish pleasure.
When we got out of the car a bunch of Munchkins descended on us. Two of them carried my bags up the stairs to my room, where a smiling, grey-haired maid was waiting to unpack for me. She expostulated when I insisted on helping, but I didn’t want her to see the condition of my underwear. I finally got rid of her by allowing her to carry off an armful of garments to be pressed.
There was mineral water in a cut-glass carafe, and a bowl of fruit on the table, not to mention a vase of fresh flowers. I hadn’t eaten much for lunch. Munching an apple (did they grow apples in Egypt? Did Larry have them flown in?) I wandered out onto the balcony.
I couldn’t see the ugly walls; they were screened by careful plantings of shrubs and trees. Sprays of water shone with rainbow glints, soaking the thirsty grass. I could get accustomed to living this way. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all.
Glancing down at my scuffed sandals and wrinkled skirt, I smiled wryly. I doubted Larry’s intentions were honourable – or even dishonourable, in the conventional sense. This was business. I’d settle for that.
He had informed us that he’d be busy for the rest of the afternoon, and told us to make ourselves at home – explore the house, the grounds, take a swim, check out the library, ask for anything we wanted.
I lay down on the bed. Just for five minutes.
I was awakened by the sound of thunder.