by N E. David
“That’s not an issue, Mr Blake. I’m prepared to pay.”
“How much have you got available?”
“Whatever it takes.”
He didn’t doubt it. Back home in Malaysia, the wheels of a whole industry were turning to provide her with whatever funding she required. But that was of little practical use – he would need it here and now.
“No, I meant here, in cash.”
“There’s ten thousand US dollars in the purser’s safe. It was meant to be my spending money for the trip.”
That was more than enough for Blake’s purpose. What he’d had in mind was more like ten thousand Egyptian pounds.
“Hopefully we won’t need that much.”
“So you’ll help me?”
Once again, she’d seen straight through him. There was the straw she’d been looking for and she’d grasped it with both hands.
“I’ll do what I can – I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you, Mr Blake, I’m very grateful.”
Even now he’d relented, she could still not bring herself to call him Michael. What had he expected? He attempted to cover the moment by raising a practical issue.
“You don’t happen to know the whereabouts of Reda’s computer, I suppose?”
If that fell into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.
“I’ve already taken it, Mr Blake – it’s in my room.”
In that case…
“How much did he tell you?”
“About what?”
There was a sense they were testing each other out, probing at the edges.
“The Brotherhood, Al-Wasat Al-Jadid, that sort of thing.”
“Everything.”
“I see…” So there were no secrets between them – and yet she’d seemed so shocked at his arrest. “You’ll need to give me some time.”
“Take as long as you need – I can wait.”
“I don’t mean now – I’ll have to go and work on it. I’ll come and find you when I’m ready. In the meantime, you’d better go and talk to the purser.”
“Very well…”
She nodded, then opened the small shoulder bag she was carrying and began fiddling with the contents. For one precious moment Blake thought it might be the prelude to some moment of intimacy – but it was not, and she snapped the bag shut and confined herself to a small wave of the hand before starting out across the foyer.
Reda’s mobile phone and wallet were still in his pocket. He’d considered giving them to her to go along with the computer – but had then thought the better of it. After their conversation he’d begun to feel more comfortable with them. Reda was something they shared, a bond that held them together, and he did not want to see it broken.
Above his head, the TV continued to pump out its message of defiance and, despite the attentions of the police, the protestors in Tahrir Square maintained their vigil over the nation. Their persistent presence said one thing –We will not be beaten. In a similarly determined mood, Blake turned toward the stairway and set off in the direction of his cabin.
Chapter Twenty
David was right about the telephone lines – there were few to be had, and even less that were working properly. Luckily, Blake had remembered to charge his mobile overnight and for once it gave better access. Besides, this was another call he wanted to keep private and he didn’t trust the ship’s system.
Eventually he got through, but the switchboard at the Embassy was permanently engaged. No surprise there, he thought. Every mother in the UK with a loved one in Egypt would be worried.
After half a dozen unsuccessful attempts he resorted to using the direct line into the Trade Section. It bypassed the switchboard and was for use strictly in emergencies – but if this wasn’t an emergency, thought Blake, then what on earth was? And anyway, it wasn’t as if they could sack him for using it now.
Carpenter must have been sitting on top of the phone as it answered after just two rings.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“It’s Blake. I’m calling from the ship.”
“Good Lord. I wondered who on earth it could be on this line.”
“I couldn’t get through via the switchboard.”
“No, you won’t do, old boy. We’re totally overrun.”
In the background he could hear the sound of voices, movement and the scuff of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor.
“What on earth is all that noise?” asked Blake.
“We’re packing up ready to leave. We’re on Code Red, you know.”
Carpenter had to bellow into the mouthpiece to make himself heard.
“Why, are you under attack?”
“Everything but. We’re just making sure we’re prepared. You know what the Old Man’s like – he doesn’t want to be seen taking chances. They’re talking about boarding up the ground-floor windows. Wouldn’t surprise me if one got smashed any minute.”
“Really? So what’s it like up there?”
“Absolute bloody chaos. Here, listen to this.”
Blake heard the sound of a catch being freed, a window being opened, then the familiar noise of chanting and the continual wailing of sirens.
“It’s been going on all day,” said Carpenter. “And most of last night – barely got a wink of sleep.” The window closed, dulling down the clamour. “It’s a warzone out there. Burnt-out cars, rubble all over the streets. There’s an overturned bus on Talat Harb and they’ve been using it as a barricade. I took my life in my hands getting into work this morning, I can tell you.”
“How did you manage?”
“Well, hardly any buses are running and it’s pointless using the Metro and trying to come through Tahrir. The exit at Sadat is blocked so I got off at Gezira and walked across the bridge. That was an experience I wouldn’t want to repeat. The police are everywhere, running about like chickens with their heads cut off. They’re all a bag of nerves. I thought one of them was going to take a pot-shot at me. God knows how I’ll get back home tonight. I may have to doss down here if it gets any worse. Fortunately, I’ve plenty of supplies in.”
In addition to the bottle of Scotch in the bottom drawer of his desk, Carpenter kept a strategic reserve in one of the filing cabinets.
“So how’s the First Secretary coping with it all?”
“Totally demented, as you’d expect. He’s spent the whole morning charging round like a bull in a china shop. I’ll give him credit though, at least he’s made the effort to get in. There’s a lot that haven’t. Anyway, how are things with you?”
“Fine. We’re all safe aboard the boat. Although half the crew’s done a bunk and we’re stranded here for twenty-four hours until the captain gets things sorted out.”
“So where exactly are you?”
“Aswan.”
“Any signs of trouble?”
“Are you kidding? It all went off with a bang here last night.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and it looks as though it was our boy who lit the blue touch paper.”
“You mean Mr Eldasouky?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, well. It seems you had him pegged. I take my hat off to you, Blake. You certainly saw it coming. It’s been a shock to the rest of us, I have to say.”
Clearly it had. And yet, he’d given them as much warning as he could although that was of no consolation now.
“Alan…” Unlike Lee Yong, Blake reverted to Christian names as soon as he needed support. “I need to ask another favour.”
“Ha!” Carpenter gave a derisive snort. “You’re pushing your luck, old boy, under the circumstances. They’ve cut the internet and we can’t get a peep out of the computers.”
“I know that and I’m grateful for what you’ve done already. But Mr Eldasouky, God bless him, managed to get himself arrested and I need to bail him out.”
“Bail him out? What on earth for?” Carpenter sounded shocked. “I can only assume he owes you money. Although t
here must be a better reason than that – but I don’t suppose for one moment you’re going to tell me.”
“Let’s just say it’s for a friend.”
“A friend?” It was said with an element of scorn but Blake could understand his surprise. As far as Carpenter was aware, he didn’t have any friends. “I haven’t a clue what’s going on down there, Michael – I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“To be honest, Alan, I’m not sure what I’m doing.” It was true – he was confused. He’d gone away on a birding trip but he’d met Lee Yong, there’d been a revolution and somehow things had all got tangled up – and it was too late to go back on it now. “But I’m going to go ahead and do it anyway. Do we still have our contact in the police force?”
“Yes we do. He’s the one I got the information from in the first place. Although he’s probably out and about at the moment rounding up protestors – but I can always try. You realise we can’t help you with this – it’s entirely unofficial. You’re on your own, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. But if you could get me a name and a number for someone in Aswan, someone who’d be prepared to do business, I’ll take it from there.”
“And is that it?”
“That’s it.”
Another filing cabinet scraped across the floor. He heard Carpenter giving instructions –Careful with that – and then he was back on the line.
“Alright. Give me ten minutes and I’ll see what I can do. It might be easier if I rang you back.”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll hang on if that’s alright. It’s hell’s own job getting through and I don’t want to lose the connection.”
A dull thud told him that the receiver had gone down on Carpenter’s desk, then he sensed his colleague lumbering off toward the office doorway. In the background, somewhere between the rustle of paper and the occasional graunch of metal, he could still make out the chants and sirens reverberating beyond the closed window. He focused on them for a moment, knowing that at any second the tenuous line that bound him to them might be cut. It was a slender thread that linked him to this piece of hope, this vague wild idea that he could somehow help to gain a young man’s freedom – and even save his life if it came to that.
And then there was Carpenter – it frightened Blake to think how much they depended on him now. Soon, like a soppy Labrador sent to run after a stick, he would come lolloping back to the phone, bearing whatever information he could find – although it wouldn’t surprise Blake to find that while he’d been away, he’d stopped to sniff out the latest cricket score…
He took the full ten minutes he’d suggested and finally returned, unhurried and without even affecting to be out of breath.
“Blake? Are you there?”
“Yes.”
Indeed he was, ready and waiting.
“Well, that wasn’t easy. Have you got a pen and paper?”
“Wait a moment.” Blake scrabbled on the desk top and located his notebook and pencil. “Go ahead.”
“The man you want is Hossein Rasheed. He’s the one who runs things in that part of the world. Very much feared by the locals apparently. Our contact knew him straight away.”
“Is he venal?”
“Aren’t they all, old boy? And I’m sure he will be. Must be a nice little number, Aswan, tucked out of the way in the sticks. He’ll be looking to make a few bob out of it that’s for certain. You’ll need his number by the way.”
Blake took it down next to the name.
“Alan, I’m eternally grateful. How many bottles is it I owe you now?”
“Four, at the last count. I tell you what – why don’t you make it a round half dozen and put yourself in credit?”
“I’ll have a serious think about that.”
Although in the foreseeable future, he hoped he wouldn’t need any more help.
“Well, whatever you’re up to, I wish you the best of luck with it. Let me know how you get on. I’d use my home number from now on if I were you. Can’t guarantee being here much longer.”
The muted wail of sirens and the continuous scraping of furniture lent his suggestion audible support.
“I will do,” said Blake. “And thanks.”
He shut down his mobile phone and sat back on the bed – then crossed his fingers and prepared himself to make another call.
Chapter Twenty-one
The role of hero did not come easily to Blake. In fact he was uncomfortable with it and rather than exciting him, he felt it was a burden, a weight bearing down on his shoulders he was anxious to remove. He was not, by nature, a brave man and throughout his life he’d sought to avoid confrontation. Unlike most of his contemporaries, he’d never challenged his parents at home, or ‘the system’ at college, or his superiors at work, but had always preferred to stand aside and watch rather than act. What had there ever been to be brave about anyway? Nothing of consequence had ever crossed his path – and in the absence of external influences he’d not really challenged himself. Bird-watching was not exactly the most daring of pastimes.
The truth was that if it hadn’t been for Lee Yong, Reda would have been allowed to rot in jail and Blake would have been left to contemplate the vicissitudes of life and the inherent cruelty of human nature – it would never have occurred to him to interfere. But where he was callous and indifferent she was resolute, and although she’d initially been stunned by Reda’s detention, her night of anguish seemed to have strengthened her determination rather than weakened it. On the other hand, his first instinct that morning had been to dispose of the young man’s mobile phone and wallet as if they were no more than an inconvenience. If ever proof were wanted he was cowardly, then surely that was it.
This realisation made him feel ashamed. He was weak in such matters and he hated it. He told himself he should know better – here he was at sixty with a lifetime of ‘experience’ behind him, and yet all he had to offer was the cynicism of age. How much he could learn from Lee Yong, if only he’d allow himself to? Why had he not paid more attention to life when he was her age instead of burying his head in books and chasing after birds?
Talking to Carpenter had been easy – but in its own way, dangerous. Their cosy camaraderie had instilled in him a false sense of bravado. It had made him feel he was doing something special and for a while he might bask in the sense of his own puffed-up glory. But as soon as he’d shut down his phone, his feeling of wellbeing had evaporated and he’d been left alone with his fears. The brave part was still to come.
Hossein Rasheed was a formidable man – his reputation preceded him – and talking to him was a different proposition than chatting to the likes of Alan Carpenter. He’d therefore approached his call to him with trepidation – but he’d screwed up his courage and done it. This achievement alone should have imbued in him some feeling of pride – and the fact that his negotiations had been successful might have allowed for a sense of elation. But he felt neither of these things and it was still the underlying want of fortitude that governed his thoughts. And so, as he went off to seek out Lee Yong and give her the news, he did so apologetically rather than in triumph.
After searching the foyer and the Forward Lounge (she was rarely found on the sun-deck), he located her corridor and knocked quietly on the door of her room. She was slow to answer and eventually appeared barefoot and sleepy-eyed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp behind her falling across the rumpled covers where she’d been resting. Next to her pillow, a half-read paperback lay upside down, abandoned as she caught up on her sleep.
“I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“That’s alright, I was just having a nap. Won’t you come in?”
She held the door open and he slipped past her into the room.
The layout was the same as his own and he immediately looked for the chair in front of the dressing table as somewhere to sit. A pair of tights had been hurriedly draped over the back of it, and she quickly retrieved them and pushed them into a dra
wer. In the centre of the table lay a laptop computer which Blake recognised as Reda’s, while around it the space was littered with a collection of bottles and sprays and other assorted items of makeup. On the floor beneath, the contents of a rucksack had been tipped out into a heap.
The disorderly state of her room disappointed him. Given the trouble she took over her appearance each day, he’d expected her to be neat and tidy – perhaps it was the pressure of events that had disrupted her.
He took the chair and sat forward with his elbows on the armrests and his hands held together. Lee Yong perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. It all seemed rather awkward and before she had time to settle, he blurted out his news with no preamble whatsoever.
“I’ve spoken to the chief of police – it’s all arranged.”
“Thank you…”
She seemed genuinely grateful but her expression remained solemn. Just as in the foyer, he’d hoped for some sign of warmth but yet again she’d denied him. Perhaps it was foolish of him to expect it, and her muted response caused him to lose what little confidence he’d arrived with.
“Well, I think it is anyway. We’ve to go down to the police station later on.”
“Must I go? I was hoping not to have to.”
Rather than look at him, she stared down at her hands. He noticed that her nails had been painted a deep crimson colour.
“I think you should. There’ll probably be forms to sign…” He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. “Did you manage to speak to the purser?”
“Yes, it’s on the dressing table.”
She indicated a flimsy brown envelope hidden amongst the bottles and sprays on the desk. It was stuffed with cash. She must have withdrawn every penny, he thought.
“I don’t suppose we’ll need all of that. I’ve agreed ten thousand Egyptian pounds. I hope that’s alright. Although if I were you, I’d take a little more than that, just to be on the safe side.”
She didn’t seem worried as to the amount. He supposed it didn’t matter to her whether it was ten or a hundred thousand, she could afford it however much it was. But he’d wanted to get it right if only for his own sake – negotiating bribes wasn’t his speciality.