Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [91]
I didn’t swear. I was too dumbfounded to be angry. What the hell kind of jailer was this? Where the hell was I? Who the hell was responsible for this?
By the time I had finished the coffee and nibbled at a piece of flat, unleavened bread I was pretty sure I knew the answer to the last question. The situation had his distinctively lunatic touch, including Grandma Moses. I wondered where he had dug her up. So, fifty pages later, when I heard the key turn in the lock again, I didn’t bother assuming a posture of attack. Where John was concerned, bare hands weren’t worth a damn. I’d need a water cannon to handle him.
The man who entered had the same swagger and the same condescending smirk. It wasn’t John. It was Feisal.
‘Don’t you have any Barbara Michaels or Charlotte MacLeod?’ I asked, waving the book at him. ‘I loathe Valerie.’
Feisal settled himself comfortably in one of the chairs. ‘Wrong cue. You’re supposed to say, “How dare you,” or “What do you want with me?” so I can leer lustfully at you.’
‘Let’s not bandy words,’ I said. ‘Who’s the old lady?’
‘My grandmother.’
‘You low down skunk. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, dragging an innocent grandmother into this. Or is she innocent?’
‘Oh, quite. She thinks my interest in you is personal.’
‘Now wait a minute.’ I didn’t believe him, but I thought it might be a good idea to get up from the bed. I pulled out the other chair and sat down facing him. ‘A dear, old-fashioned Muslim granny wouldn’t connive at abduction and rape.’
‘Certaily not.’ Feisal looked shocked. ‘She knows I’m irresistible to women. She thinks you’re just playing hard to get. But don’t worry,’ he went on, while I struggled to express my feelings, ‘much as I’d enjoy overcoming your maidenly scruples, you are perfectly safe from attentions of that sort.’
‘And why is that?’
Feisal sighed. ‘It’s those years at Oxford, I suppose. The facade is only skin-deep but it sticks like glue. Besides, I have been told how many square inches of skin I would have removed if I so much as breathed heavily on you. He was quoting The Merchant of Venice, I think.’
‘He does quote Shakespeare a lot,’ I agreed. ‘How very gallant of him to be concerned about my maidenly scruples. Or is he saving me for later?’
Feisal folded his arms. ‘Vicky, you simply have to take this seriously. You are perfectly safe here. It’s probably the only place in Luxor where you are perfectly safe. I’ll supply you with additional reading material if you insist; just sit tight for a few days.’
Emulating his cool, I folded my arms and stretched my legs out. ‘What’s going to happen in a few days?’
‘I’m not going to ask how much you know,’ Feisal began.
‘I must know more than I think I know. What vital clue, observed but uncomprehended by me, prompted this rash act?’
Feisal’s beautiful black eyebrows drew together, but he sounded more puzzled than angry when he spoke. ‘Astonishing. You really haven’t a clue, have you?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Obviously not. So why don’t you just relax and leave it to us?’
‘Us being you and John? Boy, talk about broken reeds!’
I never did find out why so many Egyptians have such pretty thick lashes. Feisal’s were as fuzzy as a toothbrush. They fell, concealing his eyes, and he said, ‘He got me into this. He promised he’d get me out.’
‘Oh, you poor, dear trusting man,’ I said, with sympathy.
Feisal stopped trying to be cool. He scowled at me. ‘You really are an extremely irritating woman. I’m trying to save your life, at the risk of my own. If my part in this were discovered I would die a slow and horrible death.’
‘Where’s Schmidt?’ I demanded, ignoring this melodramatic remark. It might or might not be true, but at the moment I didn’t give a damn.
‘He’s safe.’
I figured it was now or never. Granny’s vigilance would be relaxed now that there was a big strong man in the house, and at least one of the three