Thieves Fall Out (18 page)

“I thought about you, too,” he said.

She looked back at him slyly. “Not too much. I have heard about the German girl.”

“That didn’t mean anything,” he said. He let his fingers run over her bare arm. The soft skin was like a shock. It would be different from Anna, he thought grimly, if it happened. Judging from Hélène’s past performance, she would tease a lot, but at the last minute she would avoid following through. It was possible that he had a surprise or two in store for her.

“Where will you go when you leave Egypt?” she asked, sitting very straight beside him while his strong rough fingers caressed her arm.

“If I leave here.”

“You mean you might stay?”

“Why not? Six feet under is as good here as anywhere. Maybe better. The sand keeps the body in good shape.”

She shuddered. “Don’t say that. You won’t be killed. There is a difference between danger and—and that. People are not so easily killed in a city like Cairo, certainly not Americans. Your passport is like armor.”

“It didn’t help much the night I was mugged in the tombs.”

“You were foolish. That was a bad place. No, if you keep a careful lookout, avoid dark empty places, you will be all right. I promise you that,
chéri.
”

He hid his mistrust of her. “I’ll do what you say.” He grinned suddenly. “I’m a bit short of cash. I was wondering if…”

“Of course. We’ll pay you the other hundred pounds now, if you like. Do you want English or Egyptian currency?”

He said he preferred American, but he’d settle for English.

“Do you want to come with me while I get it?” She looked him full in the face, a half-smile on her lips. He had a brief malevolent desire to shatter this cool mocking woman’s mask, to find what was underneath.

He followed her then to her room, where she rummaged through her dressing table until she found a black leather jewel box, in which, among diamonds, she kept a wad of currency. She counted out a hundred pounds, appearing not to be aware of him, standing behind her, so close that he could almost hear the rapid beating of her heart. She turned. They were now so close that they almost touched. He stepped back, with a great effort of will. This was not the time, not yet. She looked at him, surprised; she had expected some sort of advance and none had come. He took the money.

“Thanks a lot. I’ll need it.” They stood awkwardly for a moment. He was pleased to see her ill at ease.

Finally she said, “You seem different,
chéri.
Has something happened?” She lit a cigarette and this bit of business relaxed her, gave her an excuse to move away from him to the armchair by the window, where she sat down. He sat opposite her, on a straight chair.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” She was gradually regaining control. “When you left you were… Well, there was more fire. I felt that we had a kind of understanding. Now something’s happened. You love her, don’t you?” This was abrupt.

He smiled, wondering what to say. “She’s a nice girl,” he said at last, trying to be offhand.

“But not for you. She is not free, in any sense.”

“You mean because of the King?”

“Partly, yes. Though not in the way you might think. She is watched day and night, and that is bad for you, for us. We are in sufficient danger as it is without having you become involved with Anna Mueller.”

“Why? What’s all the mystery about? What’s she done, besides go out with the local boss a few times?”

Hélène smiled. “What a funny way to speak of the King! But you’re right, he is the local boss, and he is the law, as you’ll find out if you try to cross him or any of his henchmen.”

“We’ll see,” said Pete, sounding more brave than he felt. It would be his luck to fall for the one girl in the country who was the most dangerous to know. Well, it couldn’t be helped. “Oh,” he said, changing the subject, “I saw a picture of you in Said’s house, with that Nazi. What’s his name, Raedermann?”

She took this very well; her face did not change expression. “Yes, we were good friends. I told you I was an agent.”

“For the Free French.”

“So I was. I knew many people, many Nazis, Communists, all sorts of people. We were like freemasons, the agents in those days.”

“They tell me you were pretty free,” said Pete, not intending this to sound as insulting as it did.

She flushed angrily. “I suggest it is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean Free French. Only it seemed funny that you were able to be such good friends with a Nazi big shot. That’s all I meant.”

She had recovered her poise by then. “Well, those were confused times,
chéri
, far more so than now. We were none of us too sure where our loyalties lay. But let’s not talk about such unpleasant things. Erich is dead, that war is over, the next one hasn’t begun, and you are soon to make money for us and yourself. What could be nicer?”

Pete agreed that it was pretty nice. There was another silence, and this time the tension between them was great, like an electric current in the warm air. But then, just before it became unbearable, he stood up and said, “I’ve got to go to the Consulate and see about those traveler’s checks I lost.”

Surprise and irritation crossed her face like the shadow of a cloud. Her voice did not betray her, though. “I’m sorry.” She rose, too. “Perhaps it’s better,
chéri
, that we see only a little of each other. Avoid the girl, though, until our business is complete. After that do as you must. Will you keep in touch with me here, twice a day? Telephone in the morning and later in the day, before dinner. We should have word from Said soon.” She walked with him to the door.

Without shaking hands, avoiding physical contact of any kind, he left her, pleased with his own will and, more important, pleased that he had made her think him a fool. He had kept his suspicions to himself. He was not yet sure of the dimensions of the plot, but he knew that the danger he faced came as much from Hélène and Said as it did from Mohammed Ali. He knew instinctively that he was intended to be a victim. He also knew that, if he was, they would suffer, too. He set his jaw coldly. Time was running out.

* * *

Mr. Case seemed surprised to see him when he entered his office at the Consulate.

“We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you, Mr. Walsh—I mean Wells. Sit down.” He sounded almost cordial. “There’ve been a number of inquiries about you.”

“That right? Who from?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say. Only this morning, though, the Consul General asked me about you.” This fact seemed to impress Mr. Case.

“I hope to hell he did. I’d still like to know what happened to my traveler’s checks.”

Mr. Case frowned. “Ah, those. I’m afraid you’ll have to write them off. We found one in Alexandria that had been cashed by a moneylender. That means they are in the hands of a thief who knows what he is doing. I expect they have all been cashed by now. We wrote New Orleans, but so far no answer. You were in Luxor, weren’t you?”

“That’s right, seeing the sights.”

“You must be in business, then.” Mr. Case smiled politely. “I was under the impression you had no money the other day when you were in here.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. A good fairy came and put it under my pillow.”

“I was merely inquiring,” said Mr. Case, growing red. “I must tell you, though, that it would be a very good idea for you to leave the country, if you can.”

“Leave? I just got here.”

“I have no idea, Mr. Wells, what you are up to, but there is every indication that a first-class incident is in the making, and the Consulate feels that you, as an American citizen, should avoid making any trouble for yourself or for our government.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Then I won’t lead you,” snapped Mr. Case. “The Consul General told me to tell you this if you came in here. We can only advise. You’re welcome to take it or leave it.”

“What kind of incident?”

“Political. This country is about to blow up. All Americans have been asked to leave or else move out into the suburbs. Since you, in particular, have seen fit to get mixed up with the local…businessmen, I think you would be doing both yourself and us a favor if you left Egypt by the next plane. I assume you have enough money. If not, it is just possible that we…”

“That’s sure white of you. When I needed help you wouldn’t give me a cent; now that I look like a possible embarrassment, nothing’s too good for me.” Pete was a little bitter; the trick was so obvious. He wondered what it was the Consul had heard.

“I’m sorry you take it that way, Mr. Wells. But our first interest is the United States, not you.”

“That’s fair.” Pete rose. “I suppose you’ll tell me now to keep out of sight, to watch out.”

“As a matter of fact, I was going to suggest exactly that. We’ve given the same advice to all Americans. If this mob should start making trouble, anyone wearing Western clothes, whether Egyptian or American or European, will be torn to pieces. I have also been instructed to tell all nationals that should there be rioting in the streets, they are free to come to the Consulate here for protection.”

“Can you tell me anything about a man named Hastings or a woman named De Rastignac?”

Mr. Case shook his head as though he had never heard of either.

“What do you know about Anna Mueller?”

This had an effect. “Only what I hear in Cairo, what everybody hears.”

“That she and the King…”

“Exactly,” interrupted the official nervously, as though afraid of being overheard. “Now, if you should change your mind about leaving Cairo, and we hope you will, please feel free…” But Pete was gone before the sentence had been finished.

He walked back to the Stanley.

If anything unusual was going on in the city, he couldn’t spot it. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary. The beggars were everywhere, loud as ever. Street vendors shouted their wares in high monotonous voices. The expensive modern cars honked their horns and shifted gears smoothly in the broad main streets. Only the presence of more policemen than usual in front of certain buildings suggested that there was trouble brewing.

Back at the Stanley, he found two messages for him, which he crumpled in his pocket as he went upstairs to his room.

He knew the contents of one of the notes before he read it: Anna had gone. Her suitcases were missing and there was no trace in the room that she had ever been there. He tore open the two envelopes. One contained the bill for his room at the Karnak Inn, with a polite note from the manager. The other was from Anna.

He sat down shakily on the bed and read: “My darling, things are happening so quickly now that I hardly know what to tell you or what to do. I couldn’t stay with you at the hotel because, for your own sake, it would be bad. The one thing that I must do must be done now and I no longer have any choice. Don’t try to find me, please. You must trust me and if there is any chance of our being together afterward I will come back, I promise. Believe me when I say I love you. Your own Anna.” That was all there was to it. He sat, stunned, holding the letter in his hands, the last link he had with her, the only sign that she had ever lived and he had known her.

The telephone rang; dumbly he answered it.

“I’m glad to find you home, Mr. Wells. May I come up? I’m in the lobby.” Pete grunted and put the phone back on its hook. Nothing made any difference now until he found Anna. He awaited his visitor without interest.

Mohammed Ali was in uniform, wearing a pistol holster. He smiled when he saw Pete and shook his hand warmly. “You left so suddenly, my friend. We were all afraid something might have happened to you.”

“But the manager remembered to tell you that I was back at the Stanley.”

“So he did. Where is Fräulein Mueller? We were given to understand that she was with you here.”

“Your news isn’t up to date. She’s taken a trip.”

“I see. Perhaps it is all for the best. Fortunately, no harm can come to her.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Haven’t you guessed? Because of her important friend she is always guarded, always watched by the police.”

“Then how come you have no idea where she is?”

“I am no longer her guardian,” said Mohammed Ali smoothly, sitting carefully on the edge of a small table. “I could probably find out by calling headquarters.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“Well, I am.”

“Would you care to make a bargain?” The policeman was looking at him intently now, his eyes glittering beneath dark brows.

“What kind of bargain?” The expression on the Arab’s face was answer enough. “No, none of that, Junior. That’s asking too much.”

“But suppose she
is
in danger, wouldn’t you like to know that?”

“You said yourself that it was the job of you guys to keep her out of trouble, to protect her.”

“Why do you hate me?” Mohammed Ali was pale and tense. “Do I disgust you so? I can save you. I am the only person in Egypt who can. If I want to I can keep them from killing you, and they will kill you—soon, very soon.”

“Who will?”

But the policeman only shook his head, his eyes glittering as he studied Pete.

Casually Pete swung one leg over the bed. “Maybe they’ll change their minds,” he said; then he grinned. “I wonder just how friendly you were feeling on the train when you had that bug planted on me.”

“For your own good, believe me,” said Mohammed Ali intensely. “You would have been ill for a week, by which time the affair would have been out of your hands.”

“I’m glad you have my interest at heart.” Pete mocked him, coldly gauging to himself the distance between them, calculating a defense.

“I have,” said the Inspector in a strange low voice. “Let me show you.” He moved toward Pete, who jumped quickly from the bed, doubling his fists and crouching all in one quick movement. The policeman stepped back. “Then it is all over for you,” said Mohammed Ali flatly. “This was your chance. If you had …”

“Being dead doesn’t seem so unattractive. Now get out.”

The policeman shook his head. “Not until you give me the necklace.”