by Gore Vidal
Those he met in the streets seemed more afraid of him than he was of them, stepping back against the walls to let him pass. None appeared to be armed. They gave the impression of people waiting for some great event. They were very quiet; there was none of the usual shouting and laughter that ordinarily characterized their section.
They were all listening to the gunfire, watching the red haze in the narrow strip of sky visible from the street. Their watchfulness made Pete nervous. They were like caged animals awaiting some signal, a sudden freedom. He walked more quickly, gun in hand; he was taking no chances. As he walked he kept a sharp lookout for possible attackers. But no one followed him or threatened him from the dark doorways. For once they were all too concerned with the common danger to prey upon strangers.
There was no trouble until he came to a small square.
The square was an irregular area twenty yards across with a dozen streets like black holes in the shabby house fronts. As he stood watching, from several of these streets men came running in close pursuit of four soldiers that they had flushed out of a building. Several of the attackers carried torches. They were dangerously quiet as they circled the soldiers in the center of the square. Pete edged back into the shadows and watched, horrified, as the soldiers threw down their rifles and began to plead with the mob, which now had swollen to nearly a hundred swarthy silent men. Then the ringleader, a small man with eyes that glowed fiercely black in the torchlight, approached one of the soldiers stealthily, like a boxer coming out of his corner. Light gleamed on the knife in his hand. The soldiers sank to their knees whimpering. Pete looked away, hearing the first terrible scream in his head a good minute before it actually broke upon the tense still air. It was like a signal. The mob began to shout and curse, releasing its pent-up fury in a chaos of sound.
Pete pressed into a doorway, thankful for its depth. Men came running down the street past him. Fortunately, none saw him. There were three more hoarse screams clearly audible above the mob’s roar; then the sound of many feet running and the light of torches grew dim as the mob moved on to another part of the quarter.
He waited until there was neither light nor sound; then he looked out into the square. It was deserted except for four huddled shapes. He tried not to look at them as he walked quickly across the courtyard, but one brief glimpse showed they had been beheaded.
He plunged once more into the maze of streets, all deserted now. Not even lamplight shone in the narrow windows. The wooden balconies were empty. The passage of the mob had frightened even its own kind, and the people hid behind shutters in darkened rooms.
Then, just as he was positive that he was hopelessly lost, a turn of a crooked street, so narrow that at points he could touch opposing walls, brought him onto a modern thoroughfare. He had arrived at last.
Shepheard’s had a dozen soldiers in front, guarding this headquarters of European and American interests. He was let through without any delay by a sergeant who satisfied himself with one hard look that he belonged there.
The lobby was crowded with worried-looking men and women. Many of them had suitcases piled about them, belongings that they had brought from other, less safe, hotels and from their homes. These were residents of the city, come here for safety.
Pete crossed the front lobby looking for Anna. He had got as far as the bar when he bumped into Hastings.
“God’s sake! There you are. Looking all over Cairo for you. Afraid something happened to you. Get a drink, eh? If we can.” Hastings led Pete into the bar and they sat at the one empty table in the room and ordered gin. The room was packed with British and Americans talking in low, tight voices about “the situation.”
“Heard some strange rumors about you, boy. Seems there was trouble at your hotel. Manager didn’t know what, when we asked. Said something about your leaving, and then said they’d found Mohammed Ali in your room, looking green around the gills. What happened?” Hastings gave a good performance of an interested and sympathetic friend.
“Just about what you’d expect,” said Pete, playing along. “He came up there to get the necklace. We had a fight and—”
“He didn’t get it?” There was no mistaking the urgency of this.
“No, he didn’t get it.” Hastings sighed with relief. “But I thought I’d better get out of there and make myself invisible, for a while.”
“Smart boy. Then you still have it?”
Pete nodded. “I’m not letting it go without a fight,” he said. “I don’t think the Inspector will bother me for it again.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He’s tipped his hand. He’s shown us, Said especially, that he’s after it, in spite of agreements, commissions, and so on. Said will get him. Never fear. Said will have his head, but meanwhile Mohammed Ali is a clever chap. He can’t afford to give up now. He’s done for in Egypt. His only hope is to get the article in question away from you and slip over the border.”
“You haven’t seen him, have you?” asked Pete.
“Who? The Inspector? Not a sign. Doubt if he’ll be around, either. Of course, all this mess changes everything.” And Hastings swore irritably for a moment.
“Just what is it, the mess? What’s going on?”
Hastings shrugged. “Don’t know any more than what I read in the papers. Papers say Jews. God knows what they mean. Lot of trouble between the Grand Mufti and the Zionists. Maybe the Mufti’s getting back at them. Probably all a fake, staged by the government so they can lock up a few malcontents. Good plan, too. Suggest it for other countries. Always a lot of sour apples in every country complaining. Fine. Let them complain. Then one day—boom! Say they started it. Lock ’em up. Do away with the lot. Only way to keep order.”
“But think how it hurts their feelings,” said Pete mockingly.
“Have no sympathy for them. Hitler was a bad egg, but by God, he had the right idea about running things.”
“I expect you’re right,” said Pete, disguising his contempt. Hastings represented the last word in the Neanderthal mind. “Does the government have everything under control?”
“Looks like it, but then riots never happen around here, never around Shepheard’s. Natives scared to death of it. Seat of the British lion and all that. They’d never touch the hotel. That’s why people flock here instead of to the consulates and embassies.”
“Maybe all this will give Mohammed Ali something else to think about.”
Hastings nodded. “I’m sure he’s under orders. Probably won’t see him until the trouble’s blown over.”
“So isn’t this the best time to get the necklace out of the country?”
Hastings chuckled grimly. “Try and get across the river even. Try to get a taxi. It’s impossible. We’re all trapped.”
“Have you checked on planes?” This was malicious, but Pete played it straight.
“Planes? No. That is, we know what everyone knows. Government in charge of airports. No flights out.”
“And Said? Wasn’t he supposed to give us the word today? Wasn’t this to be the day we make a break for it?”
“Not sure,” said Hastings evasively. “No word from him. Don’t know how much he knows about conditions here. Blackout on radios.”
“You think the government’ll survive?”
“Certainly. Fat Boy may be objectionable in ways, but he’s tough; he’ll hold on.”
Pete drank his gin; he felt better, less shaky. “What do you think I ought to do now?”
“Hang around here, I’d say. Don’t want you out in the streets with all that loot. Snipers in the area, or so they say.”
“Is Hélène here?”
“Yes. Want to give her a call?”
“Think I might. See you.” And Pete left the Englishman in the bar; but instead of going to Hélène’s room, he searched the now crowded lobbies. Anna was nowhere in sight and he was growing uneasy.
In the front lobby he paused among the murmuring, frightened Europeans, all listening to the firing, which had
perceptibly increased. A little of the combined terror in the lobby rubbed off on him, terror for Anna, not for himself.
Finally he asked the desk clerk if he had seen Anna Mueller, and to his surprise and relief the harassed man nodded. “She’s here somewhere.” But that was all he knew. Pete continued his search.
Convinced at last that she was not in any of the lobbies or in the garden, he walked aimlessly down corridors. There was a chance she had gone to the room of some friend. Unintentionally, he found himself at Hélène’s door. On an impulse, he knocked.
“Come in.” She was seated at her writing table when he entered. She was alone. Pete hesitated for a split second; then he slipped the bolt in the door behind him. This was as good a time as any to finish the business.
If she was frightened or startled, she did not show it. Smiling, she rose. “I have been waiting all day to hear from you. Come, sit down.” They sat opposite one another. “I was terribly worried, Peter. Especially after the rioting started in the city.”
“I had a little visit from Mohammed Ali.”
“So we heard. It must’ve been terrible.” She lit a cigarette with a steady hand. He admired her coolness. “You must stay here until the emergency, as they are calling it, is over.”
“I plan to.”
“What happened with Mohammed Ali?”
“He wanted the necklace, like everybody else. He didn’t get it, but we had a good fight.”
“Thank God!” Her performance, he noted, was faultless. “We were insane to let you go back to the Stanley. He would never have dared do anything like that here.”
“How did you know what happened at the Stanley?”
“Hastings told me. He found out. We didn’t know whether or not Mohammed Ali had got the necklace, though. We were told only about the fight.”
“What would you have done if he had got it?”
She shuddered. “Don’t even suggest it!”
“I wouldn’t. Not for the world,” he mocked.
She could not ignore his tone this time. “What is wrong, chéri? Has anything happened?”
He chuckled. “Only a fight with the law and a revolution. Nothing serious.”
“Soon it will all be like a bad dream,” she said soothingly. “It’s not easy for any of us, but then you were warned that there’d be trouble, that you were taking a risk.”
“I didn’t realize what kind of risk it was until today.”
She pretended not to understand. “In a day or two you’ll be able to leave Egypt, for good, if you like, with the necklace. Said has great faith in you. He told me fine things about you.”
“I’m sure he did. After all, I was exactly what he was looking for.”
“We needed a stranger, unknown in Egypt, and unafraid of people like Mohammed Ali. You were just right.”
“Even better, maybe.” There was a loud crash of artillery. A windowpane shattered. The guns were coming closer. Above the garden, Pete saw planes in the evening sky.
“I hate all that,” said Hélène, looking out the window at the planes. “It was like this when Rommel was outside the city.”
“And you and Erich Raedermann were inside.”
“That is no concern of yours,” she said sharply, turning back to him.
“I guess not. But we were talking about me, about how good I was for this job.”
She smiled. “You are very vain. Yes, you’ve been good, better than even I had hoped, and remember, it was I who chose you.”
“I won’t forget.”
The grimness was unmistakable now; she could no longer pretend not to understand. “What are you trying to say?”
“Only that there isn’t too much time and we ought to get things straight.”
“But everything is straight. You must wait here until we can get a plane for you. Said will be able to fix something. I’m sure of that.”
“So I’ll hang around here until Mohammed Ali shows up and does a real job on me, which will then be your cue to float off into the wild blue yonder.”
She looked puzzled “I…I don’t understand you.”
“I threw it away. Maybe you understand that.”
“Threw it away? Threw what away?”
“The bit of Woolworth junk you wanted me and Mohammed Ali to believe was the real thing, the real necklace that you planned to skip town with today.”
She was very white now. “You’re insane! You couldn’t have destroyed it. That was the real necklace.”
For a moment he was shaken. But he remembered that she was a good actress and he did not waver. They were both on their feet now. He walked toward her. She backed away until the wall stopped her. Her eyes were wide and glowing with strange emotions.
“No, it wasn’t real. I know. I had it looked at by someone who did know, and then, after I was sure it was fake, I knew what the game was, what you all had planned for me.” He was standing over her now, and he looked down at her and said quietly, “I want the real one.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered. She tried to move away. He stopped her, aware of that faint jasmine odor he had noticed the first time they met, and the second. He would pay her back for the second.
“I’ve been on to you a long time now,” he said. “I was suspicious from the first. It was too phony, sending me up there without knowing me at all, except for your little investigation on the side. It was especially phony when I saw that everybody in the damned country seemed to know what I was up to, particularly the one joker who shouldn’t have known anything, the Inspector. From the first day he came around to my room and told me he was interested in our caper, I figured that I was being used in some way that wasn’t clear.”
“But you knew that he was part of this, that he always got payment whenever we sent anything abroad.” She spoke quickly, nervously.
“No, I was supposed to be the fall guy. Well, it almost worked. Mohammed Ali almost took care of me today. He may still, though I doubt it. I don’t intend to hang around here until he comes, as you’d like me to. The second the roads are free, I’m gone. I’ve had it.”
“Said will kill you.” Her voice was cold and hard.
“Let him try. He’ll have to find me first.”
“He will. He has friends in every country. You’ll never escape.”
“I’ll take my chances. I expect he’s going to be too busy with local problems to worry about me, though I guess he’s going to be pretty mad, especially now.”
“After your destroying the necklace?” Her performance was wearing thin.
“Worse than that.” Peter grinned at her. “I’m taking it. I want the original.”
She gasped and tried to break away. He held her against the wall. “You’re out of your mind! There is no other.”
“I want it. Give it to me.”
She started to scream but he was too quick for her. He clapped his hand over her mouth. “You’ve got it. I know you have. Get it for me or I’ll—”
Her answer was to bite his hand. With a curse he jumped back and she made a break for the door. Before she could unbolt it, though, he caught her again. He held her by her long black hair. She did not scream as he led her back into the room. Her eyes flashed with rage.
“I haven’t got much time,” he said, looking down into her face. “I expect our friend Hastings will be along any minute to find out what’s happened to us. So give me that necklace.”
“There isn’t any other. I swear—” She gasped as he suddenly twisted her hair. Then: “I—I don’t have it. Said’s got it, in Luxor.” He was triumphant; at last the story was confirmed.
“I’m going to count to ten,” he said quietly. “If you don’t give it to me then, I’ll break your neck, like this.” And he pulled her head back sharply.
“Peter, I don’t have it. I swear I don’t!”
“One.”
“I’d give it to you, chéri, believe me I would, but—”
“Two.”
&nbs
p; “Said is bringing it tomorrow from Luxor. He was supposed to come today but—”
“Three.”
“Wait until then. I’ll give it to you, chéri. Come to the hotel tomorrow and I promise—”
“Four.”
“We can leave together. You were interested in me, weren’t you? A little? I was in you, you know that. You could tell. I hate Said. I always have, but I was poor and he promised me—”
“Five.”
“He forced me to love him, to work for him. To send you to Luxor. I know I was weak. I didn’t want anything to happen to you, believe me, but those were his orders, his and Hastings’. I couldn’t—”
“Six.”
“I’d planned to tell you, to let you know before it was too late. I hoped all along that Mohammed Ali wouldn’t attack. I thought it was enough that he suspected you had it. That was all. And that he’d only try to—”
“Seven.”
She was speaking rapidly now, her breath coming in quick gasps and her face as pale as ice. “Peter, it still isn’t too late. We can leave Egypt together. I’ll work for you. I have friends in Europe, in Paris. They’ll take care of us. You’ll be rich. We can live together.”
“Eight.”
“We’ll take the necklace from Said. We’ll sell it in Paris. We can live almost a lifetime there on the money from it.”
“Nine.”
“Peter chéri, please listen to me!” The scarlet mouth drew closer to his own. The warm body pressed against his. Waves of desire threatened to engulf him. He faltered. And she, conscious that he was aroused, spoke more slowly, more lovingly, caressing him with her hands, her voice, as the scarlet mouth moved closer to his own.
With a tremendous effort of will, like the snapping of chains, he shook his head and almost shouted: “Ten!”
The next moment was one of confusion. She brought her knee up sharply between his legs. He let go of her, doubling up with pain. She broke away, got to her dressing table, and drew out a revolver. By the time he had recovered, she was in charge of the situation. She stood in the center of the room, the pistol aimed at his chest, the old mocking smile on her lips. Her hair, loosened by his grip, flowed like a dark waterfall about her shoulders.