The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [7]
“Let’s get on with it before I start passing out again,” she said. “How far do we have to go?”
“The river’s only about forty yards away, and the dhow’s right there. Do you think you can make it?”
She was about to nod her head, but some instinct told her not to. Instead she merely grunted a “Yes,” climbed out of the Land Rover, and began walking, Mason at her side. Once they reached the river, he helped her into the boat, fixed the sail, pushed off from shore, and jumped in.
“Nice dhow,” he said.
“It’s called a felluca on the Nile,” she corrected him absently.
“Whatever,” said Mason with a shrug. “The fellow who rented me the dhow—er, felluca—has a ham radio. He was able to find out what tour boats are in Luxor now.”
“Is there one in particular that you want?”
“The least popular, of course,” answered Mason. “There’s a grubby little boat, only twenty cabins, called the Amenhotep, privately owned, and it’s due to leave an hour after sunrise. The owner is the captain, and there’s no office. He picks up any passengers who happen to be handy and takes off, so if we can get there in time to board it, there’ll be no way to trace us.” He smiled. “If we don’t die of food poisoning, I think we’ll be safe.”
“For how long?” asked Lara.
“For as long as it takes.”
She was getting tired of half-answers. “As long as what takes?” she demanded angrily—and the anger and tension sent bolts of pain shooting through her skull again.
“Careful!” said Mason, reaching over and steadying her by the shoulder. “I know the Nile’s not very deep, but we don’t want you falling overboard anyway.”
She tried to answer him, found she couldn’t speak, and lay back, allowing consciousness to float away on the warm Egyptian breeze.
4
Lara was lying on a lumpy mattress with her head resting on a torn pillow. Mason was sitting on a wooden stool right next to her.
“What happened?” she asked.
He smiled. “You caught up on your sleep.”
“How long this time?”
“Damned near twenty-four hours,” said Mason. “How do you feel?”
She ran a mental survey of her various aches and pains. “Better,” she said. “Much better.”
“Good. I’m sorry I had to rush you out of hospital, but it really couldn’t be avoided.”
Lara looked around the tiny, decrepit room. “Where are we?”
“Aboard the Amenhotep,” answered Mason. “We made it before sunrise, and this is the kind of boat where no one saw anything unusual about picking up two British passengers from a beat-up felluca, even though one of them was unconscious.” He paused. “Are you hungry? I don’t think you’ve eaten since I found you in the Temple of Horus.”
“They fed me a light dinner at hospital,” she replied. “But I am famished.”
“I’ll get you something.” He walked to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I think I’m up to coming with you,” she said, swinging her feet to the floor.
“Bad idea.”
“Look, Kevin. I’m grateful that you saved me, but I don’t like being patronized,” said Lara. “If you explain why it’s a bad idea, I’ll listen; if you just state it, talk to the wall—it will be a more receptive audience than I will.”
Mason looked annoyed, but acquiesced to her demand. “Only two or three people saw us come aboard, and it was too dark for them to see that you’re a beautiful woman with a pair of black eyes. Whoever’s looking for us is looking for a couple, and they know that the woman was pretty badly banged up. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”
“I thought you told me that this was a tiny boat and no one would find us here,” said Lara.
“I said they wouldn’t think to look for us here,” responded Mason. “But that doesn’t mean the word isn’t out that they are looking for us. Why give the crew or the passengers any information to sell?”
“All right,” she said, putting her feet back up. “But when you get back, we’re going to have a long talk about exactly what’s going on.”
“I promise,” he said as he walked out onto the deck and closed