The Sheltering Sky - Bowles, Paul [62]
“Why didn’t you let him in?” demanded Kit, when he had closed the door behind him.
“Because I didn’t want him running downstairs with the news,” he said, setting the tray on the floor and sitting down again beside it.
“What news?”
He was vague. “Oh, that you have fancy clothes and jewelry in your bags. It’s the sort of thing that would go on ahead of us wherever we went, down here. Besides,” he smiled at her, “I’d rather they didn’t get a look at how pretty you can be.”
“Well, really, Port! Make up your mind. Is it me you’re trying to protect? Or do you think they’ll add ten francs on to the bill downstairs?”
“Come here and have your lousy French whiskey. I want to tell you something.”
“I will not. You’ll bring it to me like a gentleman.” She made room among the objects on the bed and sat down.
“Fine.” He poured her a good-sized drink and took it to her.
“You’re not having any?” she said.
“No. I had some cognac at the lieutenant’s house, and it didn’t do any good. I’m as chilly as ever. But I have news, and that’s what I wanted to tell you. There’s not much doubt that Eric Lyle stole my passport.” He told her about the passport market for legionnaires at Messad. In the bus coming from Ain Krorfa he had already informed her of Mohammed’s discovery. She, showing no surprise, had repeated her story of having seen their passports, so that there was no doubt of their being mother and son. Nor was she surprised now. “I suppose he felt that since I’d seen theirs, he had a right to see yours,” she said. “But how’d he get it? When’d he get it?”
“I know just when. The night he came to my room in Ain Krorfa and wanted to give me back the francs I’d let him have. I left my bag open and him in the room while I went in to see Tunner, because I had my wallet with me and it certainly never occurred to me the louse was after my passport. But beyond a doubt that’s what happened to it. The more I think about it the surer I am. Whether they find out anything at Messad or not, I’m convinced it was Lyle. I think he intended to steal it the first time he ever saw me. After all, why not? Easy money, and his mother never gives him any.”
“I think she does,” said Kit, “on certain conditions. And I think he hates all that, and is only looking for a chance to escape, and will hook up with anybody, do anything, rather than that. And I think she’s quite aware of it and is terrified he’ll go, and will do everything she can to prevent his getting intimate with anybody. Remember what she told you about his being ‘infected.’ “
Port was silent. “My God! What a mess I got Tunner into!” he said after a moment.
Kit laughed. “What do you mean? He’ll weather it. It’ll be good for him. Besides, I can’t see him being very friendly with either one of them.”
“No.” He poured himself a drink. “I shouldn’t do this,” he said. “It’ll mess me up inside, with the cognac. But I can9t let you sit there and go away by yourself, float off on a few drinks.”
“You know I’m delighted to have company, but won’t it make you sick?”
“I already feel sick,” he exclaimed. “I can’t go on forever taking precautions just because I’m cold all the time. Anyway, I think as soon as we get to El Ga’a I’ll be better. It’s a lot warmer there, you know.”
“Again? We only just got here.”
“But you can’t deny it’s chilly here at night.”
“I certainly do deny it. But that’s all right. If we’ve got to go to El Ga’a, then let’s go, by all means, but let’s go soon, and stay awhile.”
“It’s one of the great Saharan cities,” he said, as if he were holding it up for her to see.
“You don’t have to sell it to me,” she said. “And even if you did, that wouldn’t be the way. You know that means very little to me. El Ga’a, Timbuctoo, it’s all the same to me, more or less; all equally