Sentimental Journey (39 page)

“You liked that, huh?”

“Don’t get too cocky, there, sweetheart. They have no reason to hold us, but that doesn’t mean they can’t. We’re outnumbered and outarmed. They moved us to this tent.”

“He said he thought we were tired and wanted to rest and have some privacy.”

J.R. snorted. “There’s an armed guard outside.”

“What time is it?”

“A little after six. Looks like the sun’s going down.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because someone’s coming.”

The German lieutenant shoved aside the tent flap. “You are rested,
Fraülein
? Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Her voice was so weak J.R. wondered if she were laying it on too thick.

“Good. You will both come with me, please.”

“Where?” Kitty asked.

“It doesn’t matter, Kathryn. Let’s do what the lieutenant asks. Come. I’ll help you up. You can hold on to me.” J.R. took her hand and slid his arm around her and followed the German outside. It was dusk outside, and everything was cast in gold from the orange ball of the setting sun.

“This way, please.” Rheinholdt crossed the edges of the camp and went around to the other side of a truck.

J.R. was trying to decide if he should take the guy on, but he noticed there was no armed guard. It was only the three of them.

The German walked over to an armored car and gestured to the seats. “Get in, please.”

Kitty froze, but J.R. pushed her forward. “Get in, Kathryn.”

He put her in the rear and got into the shotgun seat.

The lieutenant got in and started the car. He turned to J.R.

“Some officials in
Morocco
are looking for a young blind American woman.”

“What a coincidence,” J.R. said, ready to reach for his throat.

“Yes, however,
Germany
is not at war with the
United States
.”

“No.”

“Why, I ask myself, would they want a blind American woman?”

“Perhaps because her father is important,” J.R. said, frowning.

“Since she is not here, I do not have to worry about her. Women should not be part of war. Your wife looks tired. I cannot take you both to
Cairo
, but I can take you closer than you are.” He shifted the car into gear and drove across the desert.

It was dark when he finally slowed the car. It was a rough, bumpy ride.

“I cannot drive on the road here or use the lights.” They drove a few more miles, and he stopped the car and rested his arm on the back of the seat. “This is as far as I can take you. You see the lights to the west? There?”

“I see them.”

“Those are the British lines. It is not too far to walk, I think.”

“No. Not far.” J. R. got out and helped Kincaid from the car.

“The road is to your right. You stay on the road. There are mines to the north.”

“We will.” J.R. faced the German, then leaned over the seat and held out his hand. “Thank you.”

The lieutenant shook his hand. “You are welcome.” He looked at Kitty. “I, too, have a wife, and daughters, Herr Cassidy. Good luck to you.” Then he started the car, turned around, and drove back into the darkness.

“LULU’S BACK IN TOWN”

In the center of
Cairo
’s hothouse atmosphere, the Swiss-owned, Shepheard’s Hotel was Western sybaritism at its best: a marble lobby and huge potted palms, quality service that was obsequious to say the least, luxurious rooms with wide, lattice-paneled terraces, and sumptuous meals that were the talk of the town.

But it was the bathtub that made Kitty believe she had died and gone to heaven. With a blanket of bubbles clear up to her sunburned chin, she lay in the tepid water, squeaky clean, her skin pickling, eyes closed, listening to the soft ticking of the ceiling fan and the traffic noise of civilization coming up from the street below. There was a light tapping on the bathroom door. “Hekmet? Come in.”

The door opened and she heard the quick padding steps of the personal maid supplied by the hotel. “The clothing from Cirurel’s was delivered,
madame.
I have laid some of them out on the bed. Your linen and nightclothes are in the drawers of the dressing room as
madame
asked.”

“Thank you. I’m going to stay in this bath a while longer. I won’t need you for at least another hour.”

“Yes,
madame.”
And she left.

Kitty sat up and flicked on the warm water, then lay back again, ignoring the gurgling, sucking sound of the overflow spill. She wanted the water up to her neck. She closed her eyes and lay back again, soaking, her arms flung over the rim of the tub and the spicy-sweet scent of jasmine floating inside from the clay pots on the terrace.

The maid tapped again.

Service was uppermost at this hotel, but this was the third time the maid had bothered her in less than an hour. Kitty just wanted to loll around in the tub, without the sun beating on her, without having to walk anywhere, without fleas or flies or sand.

“Come in.” The maid opened the door and Kitty started, “Thank you for looking after me so well, Hekmet. I really appreciate your help, but I don’t need anything else right now.” She paused, then added, “Well, perhaps a glass of water with ice would be nice before you leave. Then please don’t come back for an hour. Take a break, a rest . . . something.”

“I don’t have any water, sweetheart. How about an icy cold beer and hot dog?”

“Cassidy? Dammit!” She grabbed a towel and draped it over the tub. “What are you doing in my room? My bathroom?”

“You said come in.”

“Stay back.”

He walked over to her. “Here.” He put an ice-cold bottle of beer against her cheek.

“Good God, that’s cold.”

“Hold out your hand.”

She huddled under the towel. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“No.”

“At this point I suppose any modesty on my part is a lost cause.”

“You’re a smart woman.”

“Okay, then.” She held her hand out over the top of the towel and heard the thin paper crinkle before she felt what it held. “That feels like a hot dog. It even smells like a hot dog.”

“It is. Complete with mustard and sauerkraut.”

“Where on earth did you get a hot dog in
Cairo
?” She lifted it to her nose, and her stomach growled.

“For the right price, you can get anything in
Cairo
.”

“God, that smells good.” She unwrapped it and took a bite. “It’s wonderful,” she said with her mouth full.

He sat down on the dressing stool. “Did you get in touch with your family?”

She nodded and swallowed. “Not my father. He’s in
New Mexico
, but I spoke with one of my brothers. He said they already received three wires that I was safe and sound and here in
Cairo
. The wire we sent, the British Army’s wire, and the U.S. State Department’s wire.” She took a drink of the beer. “We were certainly burning up the telegraph services. My dad will call me here tomorrow.”

“They’re sending a transport out from
Gibraltar
sometime tomorrow to fly us back the next day.”

She finished off the hot dog and washed it down with another swig of cold beer. “I don’t think anything in my life has tasted as good as that just did.”

“I’m glad. Are you still tired?”

“I shouldn’t be. All I did yesterday was sleep in that bed and wash my hair, seven times. I used a whole bottle of shampoo and I think I still have sand in it.” She rubbed her scalp.

“What do you say we paint the town tonight? Celebrate our escape. Dinner, music, something?”

“This is
Cairo
, isn’t it? Cabarets and exotic night life. I heard Rommel is only a few hundred miles away. Who knows when, if ever, I’ll get back here.”

“Do you have to talk yourself into this?”

She laughed. “No. I’d love to go out.”

“Okay, then. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” He stood and walked toward the door.

“Cassidy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the hot dog.”

“Sure.”

“And the beer.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Well, yes. Please tell me the bubbles are some protection.”

“Bubbles? What bubbles?” And he closed the door laughing.

“I DOUBLE DARE YOU”

“I can’t find my key.” Kitty was rummaging around in her small
 
evening bag. “Oh, wait. Here it is. Look.” She pulled out the key and held it up.

He took the key from her hand. “I’ll do it.”

“I bet you sure do do it,” she murmured. Oops. She’d had too many gin fizzes.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” She heard the click as he unlocked the door. “Well, I’d invite you inside, but I don’t have a thing to drink.” She moved past him and stood in the doorway, her hand on the jamb. “Dinner was wonderful, and I haven’t danced like that . . . well, ever.” She held out her hand. “Thank you for tonight.”

He didn’t take her hand.

She waited for him to do something. Anything. Kiss her, that was what she expected. What she wanted. What she had wanted all night.

His hand closed over hers and he shook it. “You’re right. Tonight was fun.”

She was so surprised she just stood there for a moment. What the heck was going on?

He didn’t say anything more. He just dropped her hand. “Good night, Kincaid.” He turned and walked down the hall toward his room, whistling.

She closed the door tightly before she leaned back against it and swore every word she knew. Thanks to her brothers, it took a few minutes.

Still annoyed, she shoved away from the door and crossed the room, tossing her bag and wrap in the vicinity of the sitting room sofa as she stalked into the dressing room and began to undress, mumbling to herself. “We’re in the desert and he’s sure full of innuendo. Mister hot-shot hero, with his glib tongue, which was, by the way, halfway down my throat when we found that road marker.”