Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [85]
I figured I’d done my duty as a sympathetic female, and I couldn’t feel too sorry for a man who owned – if I remembered the newspaper stories correctly – six other residences, including a chateau in the Loire Valley.
‘You can always build another house,’ I said.
‘I have too many damn houses already,’ Larry said, with an uncanny impression of having read my thoughts. ‘No, I won’t live in Egypt again.’
‘I’m sure they’ll always have a spare room for a guest,’ said John.
He was referring to Jane Austen, but none of the others caught the allusion, or its implications. Nasty old Aunt Norris in Mansfietd Park always had a spare room because she never invited anyone to stay with her.
Schmidt chuckled fatly. ‘For you, Larry, there will always be a spare room anywhere in Egypt. You have done the country a great service. When will you be departing, mein Freund? You must tell us when we are in the way. The ETAP hotel, I understand, is very fine; we can take ourselves there at any time.’
Larry assured us we were welcome to stay as long as we liked. ‘The packers are coming tomorrow. It will take a while, since some of the ceramics and furniture are old and fragile, so there’s no hurry. Have you decided on your future plans?’
He looked at John. John was looking at me. One eyebrow went up.
I remembered what Achmet had said. This seemed like an appropriate moment to indicate my complete disinterest in John Tregarth alias Smythe and all his works. ‘I’m going to Aswan,’ I said.
‘But Vicky,’ Schmidt began.
‘You don’t have to come along, Schmidt.’
‘I will go where you go,’ Schmidt said, as I had hoped he would. Otherwise I’d have had to kidnap him and drag him away by force.
So that afternoon we went to the temple of Karnak. John and Mary decided to join us. I hadn’t invited them. Schmidt had. Larry declined; he said he had work to do, and he’d seen the temple several dozen times.
We had to wait a few minutes for the rest of the group to arrive. Studying the crowds that filled the passage between the rows of ram-headed sphinxes, I said, ‘I can’t imagine what this place is like when tourism is at its peak. look at all those people.’
‘This is not an area where there have been attacks on tourists,’ Schmidt said, nodding encouragingly at Mary.
Mary’s devoted husband wasn’t so considerate of her feelings. Frowning slightly, he said, ‘Not precisely true, Schmidt. There was a bombing here a couple of years ago and another attempt earlier this season.’
‘Ah, but those attacks were in objection to what the fundamentalists consider the worship of the old heathen gods,’ Schmidt explained. ‘Some of these peoples’ – his pointing finger indicated a group of unkempt visitors in ponytails and cut-off jeans – ‘the New Agers, you call them, hold ceremonies in the temple. We, we don’t worship anything.’
‘We sure don’t,’ I agreed. John grinned at me. Avoiding his eyes, I went on, ‘You’re right about that bunch, Schmidt, they’re all wearing amulets and crystals and earrings and junk. Why do they have to look so scruffy?’
‘Their spiritual consciousness has elevated them above earthly desire,’ said John, in a voice I knew well. ‘I should think you’d approve, Vicky; you dislike crass materialism and vulgar acquisitiveness, don’t you?’
I was saved from replying by the arrival of our shipmates. Falling in step with Feisal I remarked, ‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself, Feisal. Are you going to tell me about that good news you mentioned, or is it still a secret?’
‘Not any longer.’ Feisal stopped and turned to face me. He thumped himself on the chest. ‘Greet, with proper respect, the assistant director of the institute.’
I caught his hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Congratulations! I’m absolutely delighted.’
Feisal kept hold of my hand as we walked on. ‘You’ll help me celebrate, perhaps. I promised to show you some of the night life of Luxor.’
‘That would be great. But why are you guiding this tour?’
‘I’m no quitter, as you Americans