by Gore Vidal
“Illegal ventures?”
“Ah, Mr. Wells, the line between the law and crime is more vague in Egypt than in your own noble country.”
“I bet,” said Peter Wells, grinning, remembering some traffic he had got mixed up in at Juarez, Mexico, on the Texas border.
At one minute after midnight, he gave a phony yawn, stretched, and said, “Guess I better be off. Want to be up early tomorrow.”
“To visit the tombs, Mr. Wells?’”
“The tombs,” said Pete, and he walked down the long corridor, his heart beating rapidly, a tightness in his stomach. He paused before Room 27 and looked about him. There was no one in the hall. Quietly he turned the handle of the door. It was unlocked. He opened it.
The room was dark. He was aware of a warm feminine odor. He stepped inside, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. He stood for a moment, back to the door, blinking his eyes until they grew accustomed to the moonlight that poured into the room. Then he saw her seated by the window.
She rose to meet him. They stood silently in the moonlight, looking at one another. Then, still without a word, he took her in his arms, and it was as if a sudden storm passed over them and into them, carrying them to the bed and gathering momentum till finally it exploded in a flash of lightning, leaving them shaken and content. And Pete knew that it had never been like this before.
It was a long time before either spoke. She was the one who finally broke the warm silence.
“It is wrong,” and her voice sounded far away.
He kissed her gently on the lips. “It’s never wrong,” he whispered, holding her as though she were a child. “It’s just right.”
“I shouldn’t let you, Pete, I shouldn’t.”
“Let me love you?”
“I can’t love anybody.”
“I don’t believe you.” He sat up in bed and lit a cigarette.
“I don’t mean I can’t love you, Peter. If only that were so, I’d be happy; if only I could feel this was like the others.”
“Others?” He knew of course that she had had lovers, but somehow he had never quite visualized them. “Many others?”
“Yes.”
“You’re just making it up.”
“If only I were, my love.” And that phrase spoken in her soft accent made him tender. “No, Peter, there are many others…against my will, until now. There was nothing I could do, nothing. It was either them or dying, and I was weak and wanted to live. You don’t know what it’s like to have no money, no home in a ruined country after a war.”
“It’s over now.”
“Yes,” she said, “it’s over now.”
“Let’s leave together. As soon as I see a man on some business here, I’ll have money, enough to get us out of Egypt, to Europe, maybe even home, to the States. We’ll be married.”
“Married!” She said the word as though she had no idea what it meant. “You would marry me? Someone who… Ach, Gott!” and she began to sob. Pete held her close until the sobbing was over, the pain soothed.
“Are you so afraid of him?”
“Him? Who do you mean, Peter?”
“The King. I…I heard gossip. Everyone said you were—”
She laughed, a little bitterly. “No, that is not quite right. I’ve only seen him a few times. That’s all, I promise you. He likes to have pretty girls around him. I suppose, in time, he would have…”
“Is that why you came here? To get away from him?”
“Partly, yes. But don’t ask me any more, please. I can’t tell you. I mustn’t tell you. Believe me when I say it is impossible. Us, I mean. There is no hope.”
“I don’t believe it. I want you, Anna.”
She gave a long, shuddering sigh. “Then wait, my love. In a week’s time, perhaps. But don’t talk about the future. Promise me that.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“And no questions about the past.”
He laughed. “There’s not much left.”
“There’s too much left,” she said. “I don’t want to love you.”
“But you do.”
“Oh, yes, yes.” She turned to him, and all was forgotten but the present. The moon filled the room with pale light. In the hills across the river, a jackal laughed.
Chapter Four
The morning was bright and almost cool. Despite the long night, he was up at eight, feeling wonderfully well. After a cold shower, he went downstairs to breakfast. On his way he knocked softly on Anna’s door, but there was no answer. Assuming she was asleep, he went on to the dining room.
After breakfast, he strolled into the lobby, where the manager greeted him brightly. “Beautiful morning! Quite cool for a change. Perfect for traveling, as I told Miss Mueller.”
“Is she up?” Pete was startled.
“Up and gone.” The manager fussed with a bunch of cards behind the desk.
“Where did she go?”
“I believe she said she was taking the early train to Aswân, just for a day or two.”
“Did she leave any message for me?”
The manager shook his head, his hands busy with the cards. “I’m sure she will be back quite soon, though. She left most of her clothes here. Remarkably attractive, isn’t she?” and the manager smiled knowingly at him.
“Where is Aswân?”
“South of here, several hundred miles. It’s on the river.”
“Is there anything there? I mean, is there any reason why she should want to go so suddenly?” He was betraying more interest than he had intended. The manager was undoubtedly the town gossip, and anything Pete told him would probably be passed on to Mohammed Ali. Even so, he could not be casual.
“I’m afraid she didn’t tell me. It did seem peculiar, I must say. Aswân is most dismal.”
Pete wanted to ask him the quickest way of getting upriver, but he did not dare. He made some neutral remarks about the day and then aimlessly wandered out the front door of the hotel.
His dragoman was waiting for him, the hideous leer already in place.
“Good morning, Sir Wells! Today is the day we go see temples at Karnak.”
Pete told him what he could do with the temples at Karnak. Sight-seeing was the last thing he wanted to do. All that interested him now was finding Anna.
His guide was not easily snubbed. He ignored Pete’s remarks. “I have the good news, Sir Wells. Said will see you this day at Karnak. We meet together in great hall.”
“You on the level?” Pete, for no good reason, was suspicious.
“He will be there,” said Osman, bowing his head humbly, getting the meaning of Pete’s tone if not the phrase.
“How long does it take to go to Aswân by train?”
“To Aswân, Sir Wells? But you are not going there.”
“It’s none of your business, Buster, where I go. Get it?”
But the old man did not get it; he only bowed again, a little deeper. “The train already has gone, Sir Wells. There is only one to the south, early in the morning.”
“What about a bus?”
The old man shook his head, not understanding.
“Can I rent a car?”
“It will cost you thousands of piasters,” said Osman contentedly, and that ended any hope of his being able to get to Aswân that day. He wondered if he should call the hotel there, to find out what had happened. It was strange, her going so abruptly, without telling him, especially after last night. Thinking of last night, he grew serene.
Osman had hired a carriage and they drove through the streets of Luxor in much the same way they had driven the day before from the station to the hotel. At the far end of the town, Osman pulled a sort of awning over their heads to protect them from the sun. They followed a river road for nearly a mile until, behind a grove of acacias, they saw the massive temples of Karnak: several acres of tall, brown ruins, approached by an avenue of sphinxes.
The carriage stopped at a huge stone gate, and Pete and Osman got out and walked through t
he gate and into the temple enclosure. Even in his present mood, obsessed with memories of Anna, Pete was impressed.
The temple was very quiet. It was like the one he had gone to see with Anna, only a dozen times as large: a series of buildings of different sizes contained within one wall, roofless, with columned chapels and halls.
Pete followed the dragoman through a series of anterooms to a great hall full of columns, a forest of masonry that had once been painted bright colors; now only faded smears decorated the dusty stone.
In one corner of the great hall, Said awaited them. He was a small, slight man, neatly dressed in white, wearing dark glasses and a white Panama hat. His face was swarthy and his features sharp, and his hair was beginning to gray.
He smiled when he saw Pete and a gold tooth flashed in the sun. “Mr. Wells, this is a pleasure!” They shook hands. Osman backed away from them, his own smile wider and more repellent than ever.
When he was gone, lost among the maze of columns, Said asked to see the scarab Hélène had given Pete. He examined it perfunctorily and then returned it. “Hélène is always so dramatic,” he said comfortably. He spoke English well. “Let us take a turn around the hall. Beautiful, is it not?”
Pete said he thought it was very interesting and he listened for several minutes while the other showed him carvings on the wall, explained to him a little about the history of this temple.
Then, in front of a bas-relief of a man in a chariot at war, Said stopped suddenly and said, “History—that is the point.”
“Point to what?”
“To everything, to your being here. You have perhaps wondered why Hélène and Hastings wanted you to come to me.”
“I never gave it a thought,” said Pete heavily. “I just like the heat.”
“Very humorous,” said the Egyptian, and he laughed shortly. Pete wished he could see his eyes, but the dark glasses were impenetrable.
“You are here to help us get something out of Egypt. There is a law that you may or may not know: Antiquities, old relics, treasures found in Egypt cannot be removed from the country.”
“And you’ve got something you want to get out?”
“Precisely.”
“What is it?”
Said clapped his hands excitedly. “A treasure! Perhaps the most valuable single piece ever found in this country. It is the necklace of Queen Tiy, whose scarab you have in your pocket.”
“How did you come by it?”
“That is a long story, Mr. Wells. Let me say, though, there is blood already on the necklace, and a curse.” It was strange, thought Pete, to hear a modern man make such a statement in such a matter-of-fact tone, yet the words struck home. This was not, after all, the world he knew. He was far from home in an ancient, haunted land, among killers. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, though they were in the relatively cool shadow of columns.
“What am I supposed to do when I get it?”
“I will tell you at that time.”
“You don’t have it with you?”
Said shook his head. “I do not carry such things about with me.”
“How much is it worth?”
“The ruby in it is worth, I suppose, thirty or forty thousand pounds, about seventy thousand dollars. As an antiquity, though, its value is many times greater.”
Pete whistled. A thought occurred to him. “What good would it do somebody outside Egypt? I mean, they could never show it or resell it, because it’s stolen property—stolen from the country, anyway.”
Said smiled tolerantly. “You don’t understand collectors. They will pay our price just to have the necklace. Also, in time, they can show the necklace and even resell it, saying that it was got out of Egypt before the law concerning antiquities was passed.”
“You have a buyer?”
“Buyers,” said Said. “There is some bidding going on right now in the United States. We will get a high price, never fear.”
“What is your connection with Hastings and Hélène?”
“They are my employees.”
This was a jolt. For some reason it had never occurred to Pete that the two Europeans were not the main figures in the plot. “I didn’t know,” said Pete.
“Why should you know?” Said was bland. “They are both discreet persons. We have been in business, off and on, for some years. Since 1940, as a matter of fact.”
“During the war?”
“Business does not stop because people decide to kill one another on a large scale. If anything, business becomes even more interesting and profitable then.”
Pete said nothing to that bit of wisdom. His whole original conception of this venture was obviously all wrong; he would have to begin again. “You live in Luxor?”
Said nodded. “I prefer it. I was born here, though I’ve traveled a good bit. Went to school in England, where I knew Hastings. First-rate athlete, by the way. Hard to believe now. I have since conducted a number of enterprises here-abouts, which have not all proved to be disappointing.” He chuckled softly and with his sinewy brown hand caressed the carvings on the wall.
“When do I get the necklace?”
Said stared at him, or seemed to, his face made impassive by the dark glasses. “You are in a hurry?”
“A little bit. I want to get back to Cairo.”
“To Hélène?”
“Yes, now you mention it.” The lie came easily.
“I will give it to you tomorrow, perhaps later. There is no hurry at the moment.”
“You mean you’re sizing me up?”
“How well you put it! Yes, that is what I am doing.”
“Afraid maybe I’ll take off with it?”
“Not exactly.” Said lit a Turkish cigarette, after offering one to Pete, who refused it. Delicate blue smoke curled upward between them for a brief moment. Said exhaled comfortably. “Put it this way: You might possibly want to get out of Egypt with our necklace, then again you might not. I have no way of knowing. I am hardly a psychologist. My one fault is that I am by nature trusting and I am often tricked.” He removed a fleck of tobacco from his lower lip. Pete did not even pretend to be taken in by the other’s pose of innocence.
“I am known to be an easy mark among the natives here,” continued Said, obviously enjoying the image of himself as a trusting fool. “But I do my best to get by, to defend my interests. That is why I am, as you call it, sizing you up. You see, there is no reason why you shouldn’t attempt to steal the necklace. In your place, I would be tempted. But, knowing certain things, I would also be cautious.”
Now it was coming. “What things?”
“First, that the police are with us. It would not do to appeal to them for protection.”
“Protection? From what?”
“From me, Mr. Wells—assuming you try to double-cross me.”
“I’d hardly try that,” said Pete, a little guiltily, for, against his will, in the last few minutes he had considered the possibility of getting off with the treasure, selling it for himself, for Anna. They could settle down on the proceeds. But it had only been a sudden fantastic dream.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t, because, I suspect, you’re intelligent. I’m not trying to flatter you, but I can see why Hélène sent you to me. You are quick. I like that. Even so, I will tell you why you won’t attempt to cut in on us for more than the share of the proceeds we will give you.”
This was good to hear, thought Pete, wondering if it was true, if Said was serious. “You mean I’ll get something on top of what I’m getting now?”
“When the sale is completed, yes. But I was explaining to you the reasons why I feel you will be too clever to try to outwit us. In Egypt we have the police, as I have said, and that is very important. Outside of Egypt we are connected with an organization that I have no intention of discussing with you. Only bear in mind that no matter where you are in the world, we have agents, and should you try anything unpleasant, you will be killed.”
“I get you,” said Pete, co
nscious of the sweat trickling down his side under the thin sport shirt he was wearing. He had a clearer idea of Said now. The tie-up was unexpected but logical. Said was obviously a member of an international crime syndicate, or connected with one for business reasons. He was almost certain, too, that the Egyptian was in the dope business and that smuggling antiquities was only a side line with him.
“I’m glad you do, Peter, if I may call you by your first name.”
“Call me Pete.” For some reason he wanted to keep the name Peter for Anna alone.
“Pete it is, then.” Said smiled kindly. “I think we begin to understand each other.”
“How far am I to go with the necklace?”
“To Europe, I think. That’s all I can tell you for the moment. When the details have been worked out, Hélène will tell you. We will have no idea until we have accepted an offer, and that will take several days, at least. Meanwhile, you can enjoy yourself in Cairo.”
“With a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry on me? Not on your life.”
Said laughed. “You won’t be suspected.”
“I already am.” And Pete told him about his meetings with Mohammed Ali.
Said frowned. “It is not too bad, of course. The Inspector is an old friend of ours. I think it unlikely he will try to take the necklace away from you. Be on your guard, though. Keep it with you all the time, or if you hide it, hide it well.”
Then Pete asked about the one aspect of the plot that still mystified him.
“What’s the point of roping me into this? Why can’t you take the necklace yourself down to Cairo and get it out of Egypt? If you’ve taken care of the police, who are you worried about?”
The Egyptian’s face set suddenly, involuntarily, but then, in a flash, it was relaxed again as he said, “It is our way. We need a courier, someone who can take care of himself. As for danger—well, there is plenty of it, and that’s why we hired you. I can’t tell you any more.” And that was the end of that.
Said moved slowly now through the columns, Pete at his side. “The necklace has had an interesting history,” said the Egyptian as they came out into the sun again and stood before an enormous obelisk, guarded by a small granite sphinx. “The Queen’s original tomb was robbed over two thousand years ago; she was moved then to another tomb, already occupied. What jewelry was left her was inside the sarcophagus, on her body, the mummy. When the tomb was discovered, the necklace was stolen. It came into my hands quite a few years ago and I have kept it much too long.”