by L. C. Tyler
‘That’s a big stretch of river, but we’ll find you. Can’t be that many vintage paddle steamers heading for Esna sideways. Anyway, it looks as though the terrorists have decided to bring their timetable forward. They’ll move now to take control of the boat. We think that others will come out and join them.’
‘And then?’
‘They are aiming to make the biggest splash they can. They’ll probably blow up the Khedive with everyone on board – it’s a high-profile target. But we don’t think that the two currently on the boat have the explosive with them. You’ll be OK until they are reinforced.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘To be absolutely honest? No, not really.’
‘What do I do then?’
‘Where are you now – you personally, not the boat?’
There were footsteps outside.
‘I’m in what everyone thinks is an empty cabin, with the door locked,’ I whispered. ‘Hold on – somebody is trying the door handle now – no, it’s OK, they’ve moved on.’
‘You’ll need to make your own judgement as to what you should do. I repeat: The terrorists will shortly try to take over the boat. The two who are on board will probably gather everyone together to keep an eye on them. Where could they do that?’
‘The saloon probably – maybe the dining room.’
‘OK. Wait a bit and see what develops. You’ll need to disrupt their plans if you can. I’d say don’t take any risks, but the fact is that doing nothing may mean that you just get blown up with everyone else. You probably don’t have any absolutely safe options. The main thing is that we stop them making contact with their local counterparts. Hopefully we can locate you and get help for you within the next hour. We should already have a fix on this call. It’s just a matter of getting a team to you. Are you armed?’
‘Yes, I have Purbright’s gun.’
‘Do you know how to use it?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Then preferably don’t even try. Otherwise, if your life is in danger, point it, squeeze the trigger slowly. Don’t jerk it. Anything else?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Is the safety catch on when it’s up or down?’
I put the phone back in my pocket and slid down behind the bed. Looking across its smooth white surface I could just see out through the porthole onto the deck. Looking across its smooth white surface I could also see a small black object that my eyes had missed when I had first entered the cabin. I raised myself a little to get a better view. Resting in a slight indentation, and half wrapped in a standard-issue white cotton hand towel, was a gun. Either it was the murder weapon or the Khedive was a floating arsenal.
It was at that moment that the boat, which had been drifting peacefully downstream, hit (as I later learned) a sandbank, and I was thrown against the bed.
For the next ten minutes or so I stayed where I was and tried to work out what Purbright would have done. Surprise was undoubtedly the key to it all, but what exactly would it take to surprise them? What was happening out there? As each minute passed, my own information about who was where and what was going on was getting more and more out of date. Occasionally a figure passed by the porthole. At one point I heard a boat’s engine and crawled over to the porthole to get a better view. It proved to be another, smaller cruiser. I hoped they might send people on board to investigate but after a short exchange with us the other boat moved on.
It occurred to me that if the terrorists now had everyone gathered in the saloon, my absence would be very obvious and a more thorough search of the boat would begin. Just staying put wasn’t much of an option. If there were currently only two terrorists, as Purbright had implied, and I could distract them for long enough, the passengers and crew should be able to overcome and disarm them.
Footsteps approached again and a key was inserted in the lock. I held my breath and aimed the gun at the door, ready to fire if necessary, but I had latched the door on the inside. After a few ineffectual attempts, the footsteps receded again. It would not take them long to work out that there had to be somebody inside the cabin. Time was running out. Unlatching the door, I cautiously went out onto the deck. It was deserted. The dining room too was empty. I noticed one of the crew members moving around – so the crew were not being held then? This seemed odd, unless they were all in league with the gang that had taken over the boat. It would obviously make everything far more difficult – indeed impossible – if we had a dozen or so crew to deal with as well as the two terrorists.
It was clear that the boat had come to rest on one of the larger sandbanks in this stretch of river – a sandbank boasting luxuriant reeds and grasses, together with a number of flourishing bushes. The Khedive’s bows were still in the water, but the stern was firmly wedged in place, surrounded by driftwood and vegetation. The small tender which in happier times had rested on a platform just behind the paddle wheels, had been knocked sideways. One of the ropes that normally held it in place had parted company with it and it now hung at an angle. However we were all to leave the Khedive, it would not be on board the tender.
Over the ship’s rail I could however see a motorboat heading in our direction. It was still a long way off, but it was travelling fast. Whether it was the terrorists’ reinforcements or Purbright’s colleagues coming to the rescue, my course of action was clear. Gripping the gun firmly in my hand, I walked round to the door that led to the saloon. I opened it carefully. Elsie’s two ‘policemen’ were standing facing the rest of the passengers, who were sitting round in a circle – Lizzi Hull on the floor, the rest in chairs. Captain Bashir was leaning against a pillar, looking very pissed off, over to one side.
If I was quick, I could save the whole lot of them. And myself. I pointed the pistol straight at Majid and Mahmoud.
‘I want both of you on the floor with your hands behind your backs,’ I said. ‘Elsie, find some rope now and tie them up.’
Fifteen
‘Ethelred, you pillock,’ I said. ‘These guys are policemen. Purbright, whoever or whatever he is, is dead. The police want everyone to remain here until their colleagues arrive.’
‘I know Purbright’s dead,’ said Ethelred, the gun still pointing at the two inspectors.
‘Do you? OK, then you’ll understand we need to let the two police inspectors get on with their job of finding out who killed him. If, following your helpful advice, I tie them up, then I’m going to spend the next thirty years in some Egyptian jail. So, I’d rather not if it’s all the same to you. Where the hell did you get that gun anyway?’
‘It’s Purbright’s. These two aren’t policemen any more than I am. They told me they were bankers.’
‘We’re working undercover,’ said Majid. His voice was a bit muffled because, taking no chances, he was keeping his face to the floor. ‘Obviously I couldn’t tell you we were with the police. You can check our warrant cards if you wish.’
‘You mean the fake warrant cards?’ sneered Ethelred. ‘I’m hardly going to be taken in by those, am I?’ I couldn’t help feeling that the less he said now, the less stupid he would look in about ten minutes’ time.
Mahmoud turned slightly. ‘Could you please just put the gun down, Mr Tressider? You’ve made a mistake – that’s all. Things are very tense and we understand that you may have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. We are keen that, for your sake and ours, you don’t do anything stupid. Just put the gun on the floor and come over and join the others.’
‘Who,’ I asked Ethelred, ‘told you that Inspector Majid and Inspector Mahmoud were terrorists?’
He paused. ‘I phoned a number that Purbright gave me before he was shot.’
‘And who did you speak to?’
‘They didn’t say,’ said Ethelred.
‘But they specifically said that the terrorists were posing as policemen?’
‘No,’ said Ethelred. ‘They just said there were terrorists on board.’
‘OK – let’s get this right. You are threatening to shoot two
inspectors from the Cairo police force on the grounds that some guy you’ve never spoken to before, and whose name you don’t know, told you they might be terrorists?’
‘You’re twisting what I say,’ said Ethelred, but you could see he was beginning to doubt whether you should believe everything the Voices tell you. He turned and addressed the room more generally. ‘Who shot Purbright if not these two?’
Hmmm. I went through possible suspects. Proctor and Jane Watson had been with me when the shot was fired. In which case that left everyone else. Annabelle? Campion? Sky Benson? The two nice Americans? Campion and Sky Benson had been planning something. But . . . hey! . . . it wasn’t my problem to solve. The police were here and they could sort it all out, if Ethelred would just let them get up off the floor and start sorting.
‘We don’t need to know that,’ I said. ‘Point the gun somewhere else for a moment, or better still give it to a responsible grown-up, and then Inspector Majid and Inspector Mahmoud can start questioning everyone.’
‘Which of you two bastards shot Purbright?’ demanded Ethelred, in a way that he would probably regret when his words were read back to him by the prosecuting counsel.
‘We are not even carrying guns, Mr Tressider,’ said Inspector Mahmoud. ‘You may search us if that would reassure you.’
‘No, of course they’re not carrying guns,’ said Ethelred to the rest of us. ‘They threw the gun onto the bed in the empty cabin next to the dining room.’
‘If we are terrorists taking over the boat,’ said Majid, ‘why would we throw away our only gun just as we might need it?’
‘Good point, Inspector. Tressider is talking complete crap, as usual,’ said Proctor. ‘Ethelred, just give them the bloody gun and come and join us.’
‘If not them, who shot Purbright?’ Ethelred repeated.
On the one hand, this was Ethelred being tedious and repetitious. On the other, it was still a relevant consideration. One of us, passengers or crew, must have shot Purbright, because we were on a boat, and nobody could have easily joined us or left us. Allowing the policemen to get up and do their job was probably going to take us further than Ethelred waving a gun around, but in the end what he was saying was true. The final result of any investigation would be to reveal a killer in our midst. The important question was, in the meantime, did we feel safer with two policemen guarding us or one crime novelist? The Home Office, who have a bit of experience in these matters, tend to employ policemen.
‘Mr Tressider, unless you wish to convince us you shot Mr Purbright, will you please put down that gun?’ asked Mahmoud.
‘No,’ said Ethelred.
It was a bit of a stand-off. Ethelred continued to point the gun. The chugging of the outboard engine was now very close indeed.
‘Ethelred, I think you should let them get up and hand over the gun,’ I said. ‘It won’t look good if you are still pointing it at them when the other police arrive.’
‘Elsie, get some rope,’ said Ethelred. ‘Look – you can use those curtain ties over there.’
Well, the point had come for decisive action. A writer in jail was no good to me.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s tie these bastards up. I’m no good at knots though. You get the rope. I’ll cover them with the gun.’
‘Good plan,’ said Ethelred.
I got up and walked over to him. He passed me the gun. Honestly, if I wasn’t such a good agent, I’d seriously consider becoming a hostage negotiator.
Sixteen
I passed her the gun.
We were back in business. I reckoned if I could get these two immobile, I could hold off the motorboat with a few shots if necessary. Purbright’s people could then take over when they arrived.
‘You two stay there,’ I said to Mahmoud and Majid. I selected three or four of the curtain cords and turned round to check that the terrorists were behaving themselves. It transpired that they now had the gun and were pointing it at me.
‘But . . .’ I said.
‘I’m sorry, Ethelred. It was for your own good,’ said Elsie.
‘You idiot,’ I said. ‘You’ve given the gun to the terrorists!’
‘She’s given the gun to the police,’ said Proctor.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Campion, who seemed to feel it was payback time both for making him lecture to the group and for the dinner-jacket business.
So it wasn’t just Elsie then. The passengers seemed united in making sure the boat was blown out of the water. I looked from one to another to see if there was the slightest indication that anyone believed me, but Campion had apparently spoken for them all. There was general relief that the only weapon immediately available was now in the possession of crazed suicide bombers.
‘Well done, Elsie,’ said Proctor.
‘If you would now like to take a seat, Ethelred,’ said Mahmoud, the gun still aimed between my eyes, ‘we can then wait calmly for our colleagues to arrive.’
I turned to the others. ‘Listen to me,’ I said. ‘Their “colleagues” are bringing explosives to blow up the boat.’
‘You’re a laugh a minute, Ethelred,’ said Majid. ‘You should do stand-up – honest. Actually, you will be pleased to learn, we’re not currently planning to blow anything up. So, let’s all wait patiently for just another couple of moments. Thank you. Inspector Mahmoud, would you kindly go and ensure our local colleagues know where we are?’
I was speculating on what it would feel like to be killed in an explosion when Tom said casually: ‘You guys really are from the Cairo police, then?’
‘This is what we have been trying to explain to you all for some time,’ said Majid.
‘You’ve been liaising with the British police over this?’
‘Scotland Yard,’ said Majid.
‘That would be with SCD 5, I guess?’
‘That’s right,’ said Majid.
‘Cool,’ said Tom.
He stretched and yawned as though bored with the topic but, when Majid was not looking, he flashed me a glance that suggested he did not think I was a total moron after all. Viewed one way this was good, but viewed in another way, it was very bad indeed. If Tom knew the Met well, and SCD 5 was something like HR or catering, that would explain his current expression. But that in turn confirmed my hunch that we were all about to find out how being blown up felt.
We heard an outboard engine being cut as the motorboat glided alongside.
‘If you could all just stay seated for the moment,’ said Majid, a little nervously.
Majid’s full attention was now on Tom. I reckoned we had about thirty seconds to get the gun back before the others boarded and we were hopelessly outnumbered.
I stood up very slowly. I hadn’t tried a rugby tackle since I was at school, but Majid was close enough that I’d be able to check very soon whether I still knew how it was done. I was pretty sure that Tom at least would join in on my side. I was about to spring when a hand grabbed my arm. It was Proctor. Majid heard the noise and turned back to me. Tom now got to his feet and seemed to be about to tackle Majid himself, when we heard steps outside. Mahmoud had returned. With him were two men carrying machine guns. They did not look much like police – local or otherwise.
‘I think you should all resume your seats,’ said Mahmoud, ‘while we sort things out.’
‘I don’t know where you’re from,’ said Tom, ‘but you’ve never had any dealings with the Met. A lot of my legal practice concerns children and I happen to know that SCD 5 is a child protection unit. You certainly haven’t talked to them about counter-terrorism. So, who are you?’
‘How many times do I have to say it? We are policemen. As far as this SCD thing is concerned, my colleague must simply have misheard you,’ said Mahmoud.
‘I don’t think so.’
The other passengers were looking from Tom to Mahmoud and then at me. Doubts were beginning to form in their minds but, sadly, about five minutes too late.
‘We shall need to question you all one by one
, beginning I think with you, Ethelred. Perhaps you would like to accompany us downstairs? A little privacy would be helpful.’
‘I’m happy to be questioned here,’ I said.
‘You may be, but we are not,’ said Mahmoud. One of his ‘local colleagues’ pointed his machine gun in my direction. ‘Would you be so kind as to follow me?’
With Mahmoud ahead of me and the other three behind, we descended the stairs to the lower deck, where the motorboat was tied up.
‘Now, Ethelred, we are going to take a little ride.’
‘Where to?’ I asked.
‘It will be more convenient to question you ashore. In the meantime, a boat has been sent for to pull the Khedive off the sandbank. Your friends will be quite safe.’
‘So, it is only me that you wish to question?’ I asked.
But Mahmoud merely smiled and ushered me towards the boat.
The first part of the journey remains a confused memory since I was, for some reason not explained at the time, temporarily blindfolded. There was a short delay while something else was loaded into the boat – perhaps the same thing that was later dragged along the boat and dropped into the Nile with a gentle splash. We were well clear of the Khedive, and heading rapidly upstream, when I was again permitted to observe proceedings.
‘You’re not from the police, are you?’ I said, blinking and trying to make out any landmarks on either bank.
‘What do we have to do to convince you, Ethelred?’
‘A straight answer – yes or no.’
‘We’ve told him enough,’ said one of the Egyptians.
‘You’ve told me nothing,’ I said. ‘So, it would be a reasonable assumption you are terrorists.’
‘You are jumping to conclusions,’ said Mahmoud.
‘I’ve been in touch with the British security services – they said there were terrorists on board the boat.’
‘Anything else?’
‘That you were planning to plant a bomb.’
‘Us? How interesting.’
‘Have you planted a bomb on the boat?’