Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [82]
The party was still in full swing when Larry edged up to me and invited me to come see his etchings. They were sketches, actually – the original hand-coloured drawings of Egyptian sites made back in the 1830s by an artist named David Roberts. I’d seen countless reproductions of them on postcards and notepaper. Even the prints sold for hundreds of dollars at auction.
The main object of interest, however, was a man, short and slim and straight. He rose from his chair when we entered Larry’s study, and although he was in civilian clothes you could see the invisible uniform. He cut Larry’s introduction short.
‘First names will suffice,’ he said, with a smile that came nowhere near his intent dark eyes. ‘Call me Achmet.’
‘I’d like to call you a few other names,’ said my champagne-loosened tongue. ‘What the hell’s the idea of leaving me out in the cold without even a woolly scarf?’
‘Sit down, please,’ said Achmet.
I sat. I imagine most people sat when Achmet told them to.
‘I am sorry you feel that way,’ he went on. ‘We could not anticipate that our arrangements would be . . . disarranged.’
‘Ali was disarranged some too, wasn’t he?’
His lips tightened. ‘He was murdered, yes. But you have nothing more to worry about, Dr Bliss. Your part of the job is finished. Tregarth was the only one you recognized? You have not identified any of his allies?’
‘Yes and no, in that order,’ I said shortly.
‘Then there is no more for you to do.’ He sat back and spread his hands wide. ‘He will be under observation from now on. Enjoy the remainder of your visit to our country, and forget what has happened.’
‘Just a damned minute,’ I said, as he got to his feet. ‘I’ve got a few questions of my own.’
‘The less you know the better for you.’
‘Oh, that haunting old refrain! So I’m curious. What if he doesn’t go through with it? He knows me. He knows – ’
‘That he is under suspicion?’ Achmet stroked his neat black moustache. ‘I imagine he does. Your presence on the cruise would be enough to alert him to that.’
‘I told Burckhardt so at the beginning.’
Achmet shrugged. ‘It does not matter. If he proceeds, and we believe he will, there is no way he can avoid being caught.’
‘What’s he after?’ I demanded. ‘I hope it’s occurred to you, as it has to me, that the museum could be a decoy. While you increase security there, he may walk off with something else.’
‘Certainly it occurred to us.’ Achmet was halfway to the door. Obviously I bored him. He turned for a final word. ‘I told you to forget it, Dr Bliss. Stay away from Tregarth, from the museum, and most especially from the offices of State Security.’
‘That’s all very well and good. What if he – they – won’t stay away from me?’
Achmet looked exasperated. At least I think that was the import of his frown. His face didn’t appear to be capable of any more affable expression than annoyance. ‘Why should they bother with you? You have passed on the only information you possessed. Stop prying into matters that no longer concern you and you will be perfectly safe.’
I returned his scowl with interest. ‘You guys were the ones who asked me to pry.’
‘That is true. We are very grateful for your assistance.’
It was the most insincere thank-you I have ever heard, and I include a few I’d wrung out of John.
My memories of the remainder of the evening are somewhat blurred. People kept pressing champagne on me, and by that time I couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. I had a little chat with Alice, who was looking quite elegant in sequins and chiffon; she had been told the same thing Achmet had told me: you’re off the case, forget the whole thing. I vaguely remember congratulating Jean-Louis, the new director, but I don’t recall what we talked about or how I got to bed.
I woke with a hangover, of course. Served me right.
The reopening of Tetisheri’s tomb turned out to be another big occasion. I had expected a minister or two,