by C J Turner
She continued in that deliciously husky accent. ‘I suppose I must go and get dressed. And you, I think it would be a big shock to Alice and Max if they saw us like this - you do not look exactly respectable now!’ she finished mischievously, catching her bottom lip between small white teeth in a deliberate act of provocation, before moving a little away from him towards the door.
However, two could play at this game and Blake was well before her in the lists; recovering himself, his mouth twisted in that sardonic sneer she had come to detest.
‘Good point – but actually that is my dressing gown you are wearing. I wondered what had happened to it. I would rather like it back, please, when you are ready. Now, will do.’ The gauntlet was thrown down, accompanied by a cool smile as he called her bluff.
Her own impish smile vanished abruptly.
‘Let me help you,’ he offered courteously, making a movement towards her.
She took a step back, indignation and anger swelling in her breast, then recognized that behind the outrageous request was a test. Blake was watching her intently. She took a deep breath and unhurriedly untied the sash belted tightly round her waist.
‘Of course, if you insist.’
The heavy silk was sliding off her shoulders as Blake angrily stepped forward and dragged the robe back into place. Mistaking his intentions, she pulled back, jerking the silky material out of his grasp, and despite both their efforts the dressing gown slithered in a heap to the floor. She froze and heard his gasp, but she did not look up. Hurriedly gathering up the robe and wrapping it around her as she went, the door had slammed shut behind her before he was aware that she had gone. The photograph, slipped safely into her pocket, went with her.
His first reaction was the stunned impression that she had, without question, the most beautiful body he had ever seen. Slender grace incarnate, with satin skin the colour of honey. Tiny waist and svelte hips curving sensuously into a rounded bottom, tender and smooth as a peach. Approvingly, he noted the firm, tip-tilted breasts, surprisingly full in someone otherwise so slight, and those legs – dear God, those legs!
After several seconds, he realized that he was still staring vacantly at nothing. He shook himself and addressed the empty space in a hoarse growl that would have gratified the recipient, if she has still been there to hear it.
‘Mmm, definately unfinished business between us, my girl, but I can wait!’
She might have been piqued to know that it was not just the exquisite hour-glass figure that had moved him (although it had certainly had its effect and was to haunt his dreams in the weeks ahead), as much as the bruises and abrasions that, although fading, still marked that lithe, silken body. The hospital had told him about the tell tale marks of a recent severe beating but of course, until now he had not seen them actually in the flesh, as it were.
Involuntarily, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes narrowed and his face took on an ugly expression. He took a deep breath to steady himself, but the dangerous light was still in his eyes when he took himself upstairs some time later, and boded no good at all for the perpetrator of those bruises, if Blake ever managed to find him.
Chapter 9
Max found himself whisked away to the airport before he had time to take stock and get his bearings. Blake had airily explained that Max would have to use his credit card for all financial arrangements, as the airports would be the first place the media (and possibly the police) would check out, although he did not mention the police part to Max who could be a little conventional at times. No one would associate Sir Maxwell Tregunna’s party, with the runaway’s disappearance. Max was much struck by the perspicacity of this stratagem and willingly agreed, but was still trying to sort things out in his own mind when he boarded the plane for Luxor and was comfortably ensconced in their first-class seats.
The girl they called Meredith, her head and face bound in copious bandages, had been passed, with only a cursory glance and a jocular comment to ‘take more water with it next time’ from passport control, accepted as a matter of course as part of Professor Gasgoine and Sir Maxwell’s entourage. Blake had been right, the titles borrowed respectability, and they had been waved through without incident.
She had been very subdued throughout their journey to Heathrow. Although Max was not surprised at that, considering the break-neck twists and turns which Blake had felt necessary to take through the back streets of London in order to throw off any possible pursuers. He ascribed the tenseness he thought he could detect in her, to the same cause.
He shifted uneasily in his seat, recalling some pretty close run calls skillfully diverted by Blake at the last minute, which had made Max feel pretty tense himself - if not downright queasy! Probably totally unnecessary too, he thought with an inward smile, never one for half measures, Blake. However, although he had allowed himself to be swept along in Blake’s dramatic wake, Max still could not take the matter as deadly serious as his headstrong friend seemed to. There was bound to be a rational explanation at the bottom of it, he was perfectly sure in his own mind.
The girl was now sitting quietly next to Max in the window seat and appeared to have fallen asleep. So far, so good. Now was the ideal opportunity for Max to have a few private words with Blake regarding their future plans. Something had happened before they left the house, the atmosphere between Blake and Meredith was tangible, and his old friend was certainly not going to be nominated for travelling companion of the year award. He had withdrawn behind an aloof exterior into a deep study, but contemplating the hard eyes and frowning brow, it did not seem that his thoughts were easy ones and Max judged it time to intervene. Turning to Blake on his other side, Max began to question him in a low voice about their immediate plan of action when they reached Cairo.
Amunet was not asleep however, and she too welcomed the respite to collect her own thoughts and make her plans. Certain things had become plain to her in the last few hours. When Blake had discovered her in his study, she had just finished a telephone call to the local Post Office. Assurance that the parcel had been collected and signed for ,had only confirmed her worse fears; now her thoughts were bitter ones. When she heard someone at the door, she had snatched up a photograph from the desk as an excuse for being in the room.
Blake had the dagger and the note from Hameeda that went with it, so he also know who she was, had known from the start. He had said nothing, however, needlessly letting her suffer in abject misery all those weeks, had even allowed the authorities to think that she may have been an illegal immigrant! He had graciously offered to take her in so that she was still under his control; what would have happened if she had admitted she had regained her memory and tried to take back the dagger? Another ugly thought entered her head, he had already sown the seeds of doubt regarding her sanity with that stupid accusation that she could speak ancient Egyptian! Would he have treated her accusations as the ramblings of insanity brought on by her head injury?
Her expression hardened as she blinked back angry tears. Her first, most pressing thought, had been how she could retrieve her passport and the rest of her gear (she had checked that the locker key was still hidden in the insole of her trainer), without Blake finding out.
She had wanted to return to Egypt immediately and warn her aunt of the Professor’s perfidy, but events had moved too fast for her. Blake, himself, was determined to carry her off to the one place where she most wished to go! As she presumed that he kept the dagger close to him, she knew she would need to stay with him until she could discover his plans.
His behavior was iniquitous, but he had no idea what he was up against. How she was going to find the dagger, find the tomb, and put the two together, she had no idea - but one thing she had decided. Afterwards, she had to disappear from his life forever. She had to make sure that when that time came, he would be glad to see the back of her, but this meant that she must ruthlessly continue to give him a dislike of her. Resolutely she told herself that the feeling would be entirely mutual. Bleakl
y, she was aware that this might be the only way she could save his life.
***
NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCH GHOST COMES TO RESCUE!
In a quiet London suburb, three desperate thugs were frightened away by the sudden and unlikely appearance of a ghostly apparition in blood stained robes. The witness to this astonishing event was Mr Alex Bentley (63) brutally attacked in his own home by the gang. He has no explanation for the mystery and denies that his property is haunted. ‘It’s a very nice house,’ he told our reporter, ‘We don’t even have a mouse, let alone a ghost, the fact that the house is now up for sale is just coincidental…’
Tuesday edition - West London Gazette
***
CRIME WAVE HITS WEST LONDON
For the third time in two weeks, a house has been burgled in the same quiet street that saw a near neighbour mysteriously escape severe injury only two days before . . .
Friday edition - West London Gazette
***
Alice closed the front door thankfully on the broad, and thankfully retreating, navy serge backs and leant against the reassuringly solid wood, dazed and shocked by the recent break-in.
When Blake and party had left for Egypt, she had returned to her own apartment, calling in most days at the house to deal with post, etc. and check that everything was as it should be.
This morning, everything had been as far from what it should be, as it could possible get! The house had been ransacked, systematically searched, the police had told her, whatever that meant. As yet she could not be sure if anything had been taken, given the mess they had left behind; the result of a rushed job, the Police Inspector had explained judiciously, whoever had done this had been in a hurry.
The police had taken an assortment of fingerprints from every room, including her own, so that they could eliminate the prints of the legitimate members of the household. After she had answered all their questions as best she could and they had gone, Alice walked unsteadily into the study and looked drearily at the mess, wondering where to start. Bending to pick up a heap of papers that had fallen from the desk, she noticed the Professor’s unmistakable handwriting scrawled over one page of a notepad in the pile.
Her eyes widened in horror as she read the jottings, the detailed arrangements for the journey, including flight times and destination! With an icy feeling spreading from the pit of her stomach, Alice realised that the intruders could have seen the list too and they would now know the destination of the Professor and his party.
It had taken her the whole day to get the house back to rights, and she still had not heard from Blake. She was now very anxious and when the telephone rang, startlingly loud in the empty house, it made her jump out of her skin.
‘Hello, hello? Blake?’
She had been so sure that it would be the Professor, but it was not. It was the police again and she listened in disbelief to the official, impersonal voice at the other end of the line. Her hand crept up to quell the painful thudding of her heart, which was threatening to leap out of her breast, drowning out what he were saying, so that she could not take it in.
***
Touchdown ~ Luxor Airport ~ Professor Blake and Sir Max welcomed as old friends, sympathy for injured colleague, etc., etc. Taxi ~ Hotel ~ enthusiastic reception of the illustrious party ~ all staff at their disposal, etc., etc. Ushered to their rooms, shower, change of clothes ~ Meet in hotel bar for aperitifs and plotting, etc., etc….
It was the following evening after their arrival in Egypt, and Blake, Max and Amunet were still sitting round the table at the coffee and brandy stage after an excellent dinner. The Professor had just announced that he and Max would set about organising a small expedition tomorrow. They would need supplies, jeeps, tents etc, and some trustworthy guides. He intended taking them to the western mountains of the Valley of the Kings for a few days, where he had to tie up a few loose ends in order to finish the paper he was currently working on. Who knows, he finished guilelessly, but that something encountered during the course of the trip might jog Meredith’s recalcitrant memory!
It sounded entirely feasible even to Max, who knew that going to ground was the last thing the Professor intended.
It sounded highly suspicious to Meredith, who knew nothing of the sort! Why, oh why, was Blake determined to take her nearer and nearer to the place where she most desperately wanted to be - it was as if the wretched man could read her mind!
Nothing of this showed on her face, however, as she coolly prepared to leave the table, graciously inclining her head to the Professor before turning a warm smile on Max, and wished them both good night before retiring to her room. Various male heads among the other diners turned to follow her progress with appreciation as she left the salon.
Earlier that evening, Max, with typical tact and consideration, had overcome her protestations and insisted that she allowed him to replenish her scanty wardrobe. Knowing that Max set much store by appearance and not wanting to be a source of embarrassment to him, she had reluctantly conceded, but only on the understanding that he would be fully reimbursed as soon as she was in a position to do so. Max, who would not have cared if she had appeared in a bin liner if that made her happy, had pointed her in the direction of the hotel’s exclusive, and very expensive boutique, and given the gratified sales assistant carte blanche.
The result was the elegant golden sheath in which she appeared later that evening. It hugged the contours of that glorious figure, and the silk glimmered against the honey tones of her skin. Bandages discarded, shining hair piled high and the last remnants of her accident skillfully concealed with a little light makeup, she had turned all heads as she swayed gracefully towards their table earlier that evening.
Blake had stared blankly as this vision settled herself at his table. Amunet ignored him, and shrugged the matching embroidered shawl back to reveal elegant bare shoulders, but she smiled bewitchingly at Max as she asked him if he approved of her new wardrobe.
For a startled moment, Blake had not recognised her. Pulling himself together with an effort, he rather abruptly turned away to order drinks, but that slight awkwardness had been more than assuaged by Max’s enthusiasm and his oft repeated compliments on her appearance.
Max did indeed approve. In fact, he had been unable to take his eyes from her. He was entirely fascinated. For here, back under the hot sun of her own country, her confidence restored and her injuries a thing of the past, Amunet bloomed and presented an entirely different appearance to the nervous, wan creature he had met in London. He had always thought her eyes were unusually beautiful. Now he could see that the pure chiseled line of cheekbone and jaw were quite as lovely, as were the full lips of the generous smiling mouth. An unusual beauty, arresting, fascinating and to Max at least, simply stunning.
But now as both men rose to their feet as she left the table, it was Blake’s eyes following her out of the dining room that Amunet felt burning into her shoulder blades, as surely as she might feel the heat from the noonday sun on her bare skin.
Back in her room, she worked quickly, taking off the golden silk dress reluctantly and donning jeans and trainers. Now she needed something to put over her head. but had nothing except the silk shawl she had worn earlier with the dress. It would have to do. Amunet intended to make her way to an old friend of the family, one Ben Al-Ferouk, who had a little curio shop not far from this hotel. If she could manage to speak to him, he would be able to convey the news of her safe return to her Aunt. With the shawl pulled discreetly over her head and wrapped around her face, she made her way cautiously down the back service stairs and out of the hotel into the concealing night.
‘So you were serious about the expedition?’ asked Max curiously as the two men settled down over brandies in a comparatively private corner of the hotel lounge. ‘What about permits and all the rest of the paperwork?’
‘Already taken care of, this was not a spur of the moment decision – I’ve had a standing invitation and the possibility in mind for s
ome time,’ replied Blake promptly. ‘Now seemed a good opportunity to put it into action, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m all for it, of course, but I still do not see exactly how this is going to help Meredith. By George, though, Blake, what did you think of her this evening? Isn’t she the most ravishing creature? We have seen that profile countless times on tomb paintings, thousands of years old! The living, breathing embodiment of an Egyptian Goddess sitting at our table, and you sit there like an icicle all evening, looking down your damned nose. I have a good notion to cut you out after all, you ungrateful hound!’
‘By all means Max, I very much doubt if that would prove too difficult! But be careful all the same, that girl is deep water - just how good a swimmer are you?’
‘Oh phooey, you say that just because for once you have met a beautiful girl who isn’t languishing on your every word, and who shows no sign of being overcome by the attentions of the notorious Blake Gasgoine. Sour grapes, my lad! Why, Alice is devoted to her and she is not easily taken in by anyone. Have you rung Alice by the way, you said you would, as soon as we were settled?’
‘No, I haven’t and thank you for reminding me. In fact, I turned my phone off when we boarded the plane and I should check for messages as well as ringing in. If you will excuse me, Max, I’ll go up to my room and do it from there.’
‘Of course, of course. In fact, I will come along with you. High time I caught up with my beauty sleep. Although I must say Blake, at least there is never a dull moment with you around …’
When Blake checked his voice mail, he discovered several messages waiting for him including the ones from Alice and despite the late hour, he rang her back immediately, misliking the urgency in her usually even voice. There was no answer at the house, so he rang her flat and was answered at the first ring. He listened, swearing irritably under his breath as she told him about the break-in, but went rigidly silent when she broke the news that the police had found fingerprints in Alex Bentley’s house that matched Meredith’s prints taken from his house. As she had made a statement confirming that she had never entered his house, they now wanted to see her as a matter of urgency.