The Key to Rebecca (1980)

"Alex and whom?"

"Anwar el-Sadat. He's a captain in the Army."

"Why did he want to meet Wolff?"

"So the Free Officers could send a message to Rommel."

Vandam thought: there are elements to this that I never thought of. He said: "Where does Sadat live?"

"Kubri al-Qubbah."

"The address?"

"I don't know."

Vandam said to the woman officer: "Go and find out the exact address of Captain Anwar el-Sadat."

"Yes, sir." The woman's face broke into a smile that was astonishingly pretty. She went out.

Vandam, said: "Wolff kept his radio on your houseboat"

"Yes."

"He used a code for his messages."

"Yes. He had an English novel which he used to use to make up the code words."

"Rebecca."

"Yes."

"And he had a key to the code."

"A key?"

"A piece of paper telling him which pages of the book to use."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I think he did."

"The radio, the book and the key have gone. Do you know where?"

"No," she said. She got scared. "Honestly, no, I don't know, I'm telling the truth-"

"It's all right, I believe you. Do you know where Wolff might have gone?"

"He ba.,: a house. . . Villa les Oliviers."

"Good idea. Any other suggestions?"

"Abdullah. He might have gone to Abdullah."

:'Yes. Any more?"

'His cousins, in the desert."

:'And where would they be found?"

'No one knows. They're nomads."

"Might Wolff know their movements?"

"I suppose he might."

Vandam sat looking at her for a little while longer. She was no actress: she could not have faked this. She was totally broken down, not only willing but eager to betray her friends and tell her secrets. She was telling the truth.

"I'll see you again," Vandam said, and went out.

The woman officer handed him a slip of paper with Sadats address on it, then went into the cell. Vandam hurried to the muster room. Jakes was waiting. "The Navy is lending us a couple of divers," Jakes said.

"They'll be here in a few minutes."

"Good." Vandam lit a cigarette. "I want you to raid Abdullah's place.

I'm going to arrest this Sadat fellow. Send a small team to the Villa les Oliviers, just in case-I don't suppose they find anything Has everyone been briefed?"

Jakes nodded, "They know we're looking for a wireless transmitter, a copy of Rebecca, and a set of coding instructions."

Vandam, looked around, and noticed for the first time that there were Egyptiar policemen in the room. "Why have we got bloody Arabs on the team?" he said angrily.

"Protocol, sir," Jakes replied formally. "Colonel Bogge's idea." Vandam bit back a retort. "After you've done Abdullah, meet me at the houseboat."

"Yes. sin"

Vandam stubbed his cigarette. "Let's go."

They went out into the morning sunshine. A dozen or more jeeps were lined up; their engine- idling Jakes gave instruction to the sergeants in the raiding parties, then nodded to Vandam The men boarded the jeeps, and the teams pulled out.

Sadat lived in a suburb three miles out of Cairo in the direction of Helionolis. His home was an ordinary family house with a small garden, Four jeeps roared up outside, and the soldiers immediately surrounded the house and began to search the garden Vandam rapped on the front door. A dog began to bark loudly. Vandam knocked again. The door was opened.

"Captain Anwar el-Sadatr' to

"Yes.

Sadat was a thin, serious young man of medium height. His curly brown hair was already receding. He wore his captain's uniform and fez, as if he was about to go out.

"You're under arrest," Vandam said, and pushed past him into the house Another young man appeared in a doorway. "Who is he?" Vandam demanded. "My brother, Tal'at," said Sadat.

Vandam looked at Sadat. The Arab was calm and dignified, but he was biding some tension. He's afraid, Vandam thought; but he's not afraid of me, and he's not afraid of going to prison; he's afraid of something else.

What kind of deal had Kernel done with Wolff this morning? The rebels needed Wolff to help them get in touch with Rommel. Were they hiding Wolff somewhere?

Vandam said: "Which is your room, Captain?"

Sadat pointed. Vandam went into the room. It was a simple bedroom, with a mattress on the floor and a galabiya hanging from a book. Vandam pointed to two British soldiers and an Egyptian policeman, and said: "All right, go ahead." They began to search the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Sadat said quietly.

"You know Alex Wolff," Vandam said.

"No."

"He also calls himself Achmed Rahmha, but he's a European."

"I've never beard of him."

Clearly Sadat was a fairly tough personality, not the kind to break down and confess everything just because a few burly soldiers started messing up his house. Vandam pointed across the hall. "What's that room?"

"My study-"

Vandam went to the door.

Sadat said: "But the women of the family are in there, you must let me warn them-" "They know we're here. Open the door."

Vandam let Sadat enter the room first. There were no women inside, but a back door was open as if someone had just stepped out. That was okay: the garden was full of soldiers, no one would escape. Vandam saw an army pistol on the desk holding down some sheets of paper covered with Arabic script. He went to the bookshelf and examined the books: Rebecca was not there. A shout came from another part of the house: "Major Vandam!" Vandam followed the sound into the kitchen. A sergeant MP was standing beside the oven, with the house dog yapping at his booted feet. The oven door stood open, and the sergeant lifted out a suitcase-radio.

Vandam looked at Sadat, who had followed him into the kitchen. The Arab's face was twisted with bitterness and disappointment. So this was the deal they had done: they warned Wolff, and in exchange they got his radio. Did that mean he had another? Or had Wolff arranged to come here, to Sadat's house, to broadcast?

Vandam spoke to his sergeant. "Well done. Take Captain Sadat to GHQ."

"I protest," Sadat said. "The law states that officers in the Egyptiar. Army may be detained only in the officers' mess and must be guarded by a fellow officer."

The senior Egyptian policeman was standing nearby. "This is correct," he said.

Once again Vandam cursed Bogge for bringing the Egyptians into this. "The law also states that spies are to be shot," he told Sadat. He turned to the sergeant. "Send out my driver. Finish searching the house. Then have Sadat charged with espionage."

He looked again at Sadat. The bitterness and disappointment had gone from his face, to be replaced by a calculating look. He's figuring out bow to make the most of all this, Vandam thought: he's preparing to play martyr. He's very adaptable--he should be a politician.

Vandam left the house and went out to the jeep. A few moments later his driver came running out and jumped into the seat beside him. Vandam said:

"To Zamalck."

"Yes, sir." The driver started the jeep and pulled away.

When Vandam reached the houseboat the divers had done their work and were standing on the towpath getting out of their gear. Two soldiers were hauling something extremely grisly out of the Nile. The divers had attached ropes to the body they had found on the bottom and then washed their hands of the affair.

Jakes came over to Vandam "Look at this, sir." He handed him a waterlogged book. The board covers had been torn off. Vandam examined the book: it was Rebecca.

The radio went to Sadat; the code book went into the river. Vandam remembered the ashtray full of charred paper in the houseboat: had Wolff burned the key to the code?

Why had he gotten rid of the radio, the book and the key, when he had a vital message to send to Rommel? The conclusion was inescapable: he had another radio, book and key hidden away somewhere.

The soldiers got the body on to the bank and then stepped back as if they wanted nothing more to do with it. Vandam stood over it. The throat had been cut and the head was almost severed from the body. A briefcase was roped to the waist. Vandam bent down and gingerly opened the case. It was full of bottles of champagne.

Jakes said: "My God."

"Ugly, isn't it," Vandam said. "Throat cut, then dumped in the river with a case of champagne to weigh him down."

"Cool bastard."

"And damn quick with that knife." Vandam touched his cheek: the dressing had been taken off, now, and several days' growth of beard hid the wound. But not Elene, not with the knife, please. "I gather you haven't found him."

"I haven't found anything. I've had Abdullah brought in, just on general principles, but there was nothing at his house. And I called in at the Villa les Oliviers on the way back same story."

"And at Captain Sadat's house." Suddenly Vandam felt utterly drained. It seemed that Wolff outwitted him at every turn. It occurred to him that he might simply not be smart enough to catch this sly, evasive spy. "Perhaps we've lost," he said. He rubbed his face. He had not slept in the last twenty four hours. He wondered what he was doing here, standing over the hideous corpse of Major Sandy Smith. There was no more to be learned from it. "I think III go home and sleep for an hour," he said. Jakes looked surprised. Vandam added: "It might help me think more clearly. This afternoon we'll interrogate all the prisoners again."

"Very good, sir."

Vandam walked back to his vehicle. Driving across the bridge from Zamalek to the mainland, he recalled that Sonja had mentioned one other possibility: Wolff's nomad cousins. He looked at the boats on the wide, slow river. The current took them downstream and the wind blew them upstream-a coincidence of enormous importance to Egypt. The boatmen were still using the single triangular sail, a design which had been perfected . . . How long ago? Thousands of years, perhaps. So many things in this country were done the way they had been done for thousands of years.

Vandam closed his eyes and saw Wolff, in a felucca, sailing upriver, manipulating the triangular sail with one hand while with the other he tapped out messages to Rommel on the transmitter. The car stopped suddenly and Vandam opened his eyes, realizing he bad been daydreaming, or dozing. Why would Wolff go upriver? To find his nomad cousins. But who could tell where they would be? Wolff might be able to find them, if they followed some annual pattern in their wanderings. The jeep had stopped outside Vandam's house. He got out. "I want you to wait for me," be told the driver. "You'd better come in." He led the way into the house, then directed the driver to the kitchen. "My servant, Gaafar, will give you something to eat, so long as you don't treat him like a wog."

"Thank you very much, sir," said the driver.

There was a small stack of mail on the hall table. The top envelope had no stamp, and was addressed to Vandam in a vaguely familiar hand. It had "Urgent" scribbled in the top left-hand corner. Vandam picked it up. There was more he should do, be realized. Wolff could well he heading south now. Roadblocks should be set up at all major towns on the route. There should be someone at every stop on the railway line, looking for Wolff. And the river itself ... There had to be some way of checking the river, in case Wolff really had gone by boat, as in the daydream. Vandam was finding it hard to concentrate. We could set up river blocks on the same principle as road blocks, he thought; why not? None of it would be any good if Wolff had simply gone to ground in Cairo. Suppose he were hiding in the cemeteries? Many Muslims buried their dead in tiny houses, and there were acres of such empty buildings in the city: Vandam would have needed a thousand men to search them all. Perhaps I should do it anyway, he thought. But Wolff might have gone north, toward Alexandria; or east or west into the desert . . .

He went into the drawing room, looking for a letter opener. Somehow the search bad to be narrowed down. Vandam did not have thousands of men at his disposal-they were all in the desert, fighting. He had to decide what was the best bet. He remembered where all this had started: Assyut. Perhaps he should contact Captain Newman in Assyut. That seemed to be where Wolff had come in from the desert, so maybe he would go out that way. Maybe his cousins were in that vicinity. Vandam looked indecisively at the telephone.

Where was that damned letter opener? He went to the door and called:

"Gaafar!" He came back into the room, and saw Billy's school atlas on a chair. It looked mucky. The boy had dropped it in a puddle, or something. He picked it up. It was sticky. Vandam realized there was blood on it. He felt as if he were in a nightmare. What was going on? No letter opener, blood on the atlas, nomads at Assyut ...

Gaafar came in. Vandam said: "What's this mess?"

Gaafar looked. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know. They were looking at it while Captain Alexander was here--" "Who's they? Who's Captain Alexander?"

"The officer you sent to take Billy to school, sir. His name was-"

"Stop." A terrible fear cleared Vandam's brain in an instant. "A British

Army captain came here this morning and took Billy away?"

"Yes, sir, be took him to school. He said you sent him-"

"Gaafar, I sent nobody."

The servant's brown face turned gray.

Vandam said: "Didn't you check that he was genuine?"'

"But, sir, Miss Fontana was with him, so it seemed all right."

"Oh, my God." Vandam looked at the envelope in his hand. Now he knew why the handwriting was familiar: it was the same as that on the note that Wolff had sent to Elene. He ripped open the envelope. Inside was a message in the same hand:

Dear Major Vandam,

Billy is with me. Elene is taking care of him. He will be quite all right as long as I am safe. I advise you to stay where you are and do nothing. We do not make war on children, and I have no wish to harm the boy. All the same, the life of one child is as nothing beside the future of my two nations, Egypt and Germany; so be assured that if it suits my purpose I will kill Billy.

Yours truly, Alex Wolff.

It was a letter from a madman: the polite salutations, the correct English, the semicolon, the attempt to justify the kidnapping of an innocent child ... Now Vandam knew that, somewhere deep down inside, Wolff was insane. And he had Billy.

Vandam handed the note to Gaafar, who put on his spectacles with a shaky hand. Wolff had taken Elene with him when he left the houseboat. It would not have been difficult to coerce her into helping him: all he had to do was threaten Billy, and she would have been helpless. But what was the point of the kidnap, really? And where had they gone? And why the blood? Gaafar was weeping openly. Vandam said: "Who was hurt? Who was bleeding?"

"There was no violence," Gaafar said. "I think Miss Fontana had cut her hand."

And she had smeared blood on Billy's atlas and left it on the chair. It was a sign, a message of some kind. Vandam held the book in his hands and let it fall open. Immediately he saw the map of Egypt with a blotted red arrow roughly drawn. It pointed to Assyut.

Vandam picked up the phone and dialed GHQ. When the switchboard answered be hung up. He thought: If I report this, what will happen? Bogge will order a squad of light infantry to arrest Wolff at Assyut. There will be a fight. Wolff Will know he has lost, know be is to be shot for spying, not to mention kidnapping and murder-and what will he do then? He is insane, Vandam thought-, he will kill my son.

He felt paralyzed by fear. Of course that was what Wolff wanted, that was his aim in taking Billy, to paralyze Vandam That was how kidnapping worked.

If Vandam brought the Army in, there would be a shootout. Wolff might kill Billy out of mad spite. So there was only one option.

Vandam had to go after them alone.

"Get me two bottles of water," he told Gaafar. The servant went off.

Vandam went into the hall and put on his motorcycle goggles, then found a scarf and wound it around his mouth and neck. Gaafar came from the kitchen with the bottles of water. Vandam left the house and went to his motorcycle. He put the bottles in the pannier and climbed on the bike. He kicked it into life and revved the engine. The fuel tank was full. Gaafar stood beside him, still weeping. Vandam touched the old man's shoulder. "I'll bring them back," he said. He rocked the bike off its stand, drove into the street and turned south.

Chapter 26.

My God, the station was a shambles. I suppose everyone wants to get out of Cairo in case it gets bombed. No first class seats on the trains to Palestine-not even standing room. The wives and children of the British are running like rats. Fortunately southbound trains are less in demand. The booking office still claimed there were no seats, but they always say that; a few piasters here and a few more there always gets a seat, or three. I was afraid I might lose Elene and the boy on the platform, among all the hundreds of peasants, barefoot in their dirty galabiyas, carrying boxes tied with string, chickens in crates, sitting on the platform eating their breakfast, a fat mother in black handing out boiled eggs and pita bread and caked rice to her husband and sons, cousins and daughters and in-laws; smart idea of mine, to hold the boy's hand-if I keep him close by, Elene will follow; smart idea, I have smart ideas, Christ I'm smart, smarter than Van dam, eat your heart out, Major Vandam, I've got your son.

Somebody had a goat on a lead. Fancy taking a goat on a train ride. I never had to travel economy with the peasants and their goats. What a job, to clean the economy coach at the end of the journey, I wonder who does it, some poor fellah, a different breed, a different race, born slaves, thank God we got first-class seats, I travel first class through life, I hate dirt, God that station was dirty. Vendors on the platform: cigarettes, newspapers, a man with a huge basket of bread on his head. I like the women when they carry baskets on their heads, looking so graceful and proud, makes you want to do it to them there and then, standing up, I like women when they like to do it, when they lose their minds with pleasure, when they scream, Gesundheit! Look at Elene, sitting there beside the boy, so frightened, so beautiful, I want to do it with her again soon, forget Sonja, I'd like to do it with Elene right now, here on the train, in front of all these people, humiliate her, with Vandam's son watching, terrified, ha! Look at the mud-brick suburbs, houses leaning against one another for support, cows and sheep in the narrow dusty streets, I always wondered what they ate, those city sheep with their fat tails, where do they graze? No plumbing in those dark little houses beside the railway line. Women in the doorways peeling vegetables, sitting cross-legged on the dusty ground. Cats. So graceful, the cats. European cats are different, slower and much fatter; no wonder cats are sacred here, they are so beautiful, a kitten brings luck. The English like dogs. Disgusting animals, dogs: unclean, undignified, slobbering, fawning, sniffing. A cat is superior, and knows it. It is so important to be superior. One is a master or a slave. I hold my head up, like a cat; I walk about, ignoring the hoi polloi, intent on my own mysterious tasks, using people the way a cat uses its owner, giving no thanks and accepting no affection, taking what they offer as a right, not a gift. I'm a master, a German Nazi, an Egyptian Bedouin, a born ruler, how many hours to Assyut, eight, ten? Must move fast. Find Ishmael.

He should be at the well, or not far away. Pick up the radio. Broadcast at midnight tonight. Complete British defense, what a coup, they'll give me medals. Germans in charge in Cairo. Oh, boy, we'll get the place into shape. What a combination, Germans and Egyptians, efficiency by day and sensuality by night, Teutonic technology and Bedouin savagery, Beethoven and hashish. If I can survive, make it to Assyut, contact Rommel; then Rommel can cross the last bridge, destroy the last line of defense, dash to Cairo; annihilate the British, what a victory that will be. If I can make it. What a triumph! What a triumph! What a triumph!

I will not be sick, I will not be sick, I will not be sick. The train says it for me, rattling on the tracks. I'm too old to throw up on trains now,

I used to do that when I was eight. Dad took me to Alexandria, bought me candy and oranges and lemonade, I ate too much, don't think about it, it makes me ill to think about it, Dad said it wasn't my fault it was his, but I always used to feel sick even if I didn't eat, today Elene bought chocolate but I said no, thanks, I'm pretty grown-up to say no to chocolate, kids never say no to chocolate, look, I can see the pyramids, one, two, and the little one makes three, this must be Giza. Where are we going? He was supposed to take me to school. Then he got out the knife. Its curved. He'll cut off my head, where's Dad? I should be in school, we have geography in the first period today, a test on the Norwegian fjords, I learned it all last night, I needn't have bothered, I've missed the test. They've already finished it by now, Mr. Johnstone collecting up the papers, you call that a map, Higgins? Looks more like a drawing of your ear, boy! Everybody laughs. Smythe can't spell Moskenstraumen. Write it fifty times, lad. Everyone is glad he isn't Smythe. Old Johnstone opens the textbook. Next, the Arctic tundra. I wish I was in school. I wish Elene would put her arm round me. I wish the man would stop looking at me, staring at me like that, so pleased with himself, I think he's crazy, where's Dad? If I don't think about the knife, it will be just as if it wasn't there. I mustn't think about the knife. If I concentrate on not thinking about the knife, that's the same as thinking about the knife. It's impossible to deliberately not think about something. How does anyone stop thinking of something? Accidentally. Accidental thoughts. All thoughts are accidental. There, I stopped thinking about the knife for a second. If I see a policeman, I'll rush up to him and yell Save me, save me! I'll be so quick that he won't be able to stop me. I can run like the wind, I'm quick. I might see an officer. I might see a general. I'll shout, Good morning, General! He'll look at me, surprised, and say Well, young fellow-me-lad, you're a fine boy! Pardon me, sir, I'll say, I'm Major Vandam's son, and this man is taking me away, and my father doesn't know, I'm sorry to trouble you, but I need help. What? says the general.

Look here, sir, you can't do this to the son of a British officer! Not

cricket, you know! Just clear off, d'you hear? Who the devil d'you think you are? And you needn't flash that little penknife at me, I've got a pistol! You're a brave lad, Billy. I'm a brave lad. All day men get killed in the desert. Bombs fall, Back Home. Ships in the Atlantic get sunk by U-boats, men fall into the icy water and drown. RAF chaps shot down over France. Everybody is brave. Chin up! Damn this war. That's what they say: Damn this war. Then they climb into the cockpit, hurry down the air-raid shelter, attack the next dune, fire torpedoes at the U-boats, write letters home. I used to think it was exciting. Now I know better. It isn't exciting at all. It makes you feel sick.

Billy is so pale. He looks it. He's trying to be brave. He shouldn't, he should act like a child, he should scream and cry and throw a tantrum, Wolff couldn't cope with that; but he won't, of course, for he has been taught to be tough, to bite back the cry, to suppress the tears, to have self-control. He knows how his father would be, what else does a boy do but copy- his father? Look at Egypt. A canal alongside the railway line.

A grove of date palms. A man crouching in a field, his galabiya hitched up above his long white undershorts, doing something to the crops; an ass grazing, so much healthier than the miserable specimens you see pulling carts in the city; three women sitting beside the canal, washing clothes, pounding them on stones to get them clean; a man on horseback, galloping, must be the local effendi, only the richest peasants have horses; in the distance, the lush green countryside ends abruptly in a range of dusty tan hills. Egypt is only thirty miles wide, really: the rest is desert. What am I going to do? That chill, deep in my chest, every time I look at Wolff

The way he stares at Billy. The gleam in his eye. His restlessness: the way he looks out of the window, then around the carriage, then at Billy, then at me, then at Billy again, always with that gleam in his eye, the look of triumph. I should comfort Billy. I wish I knew more about boys, I had four sisters. What a poor stepmother I should be for Billy. I'd like to touch him, put my arm around him, give him a quick squeeze, or even a cuddle, but I'm not sure that's what be wants, it might make him feel worse. Perhaps I could take his mind off things by playing a game. What a ridiculous idea. Perhaps not so ridiculous. Here is his school satchel. Here is an exercise book. He looks at me curiously. What game? Noughts and crosses. Four lines for the grid; my cross in the center. The way he looks at me as he takes the pencil, I do believe he's going along with this crazy idea in order to comfort met His nought in the corner. Wolff snatches the book, looks at it, shrugs, and gives it back. My cross, Billy's nought; it will be a drawn game. I should let him win next time. I can play this game without thinking, more's the pity. Wolff has a spare radio at Assyut. Perhaps I should stay with him, and try to prevent him using the radio. Some hope! I have to get Billy away, then contact Vandam and tell him where I am. I hope Vandam mw the atlas. Perhaps the servant saw it, and called GHQ. Perhaps it will lie on the chair all day, unnoticed. Perhaps Vandam will not go home today. I have to get Billy away from Wolff, away from that knife. Billy makes a cross in the center of a new grid. I make a nought, then scribble hastily: We must escape-be ready. Billy makes another cross, and: OK. My nought. Billy's cross and When? My nought and Next, station. Billy's third cross makes a line. He scores through the line of crosses, then smiles up at me jubilantly. He has won. The train slows down.

Vandam knew the train was still ahead of him. He had stopped at the station at 'Giza, close to the pyramids, to ask how long ago the train had passed through; then he had stopped and asked the same question at three subsequent stations. Now, after traveling for an hour, he had no need to stop and ask, for the road and the railway line ran parallel, on either side of a canal, and he would see the train when he caught up with it Each time he stopped he had taken a drink of water. With his uniform cap, his goggles and the scarf around his mouth and neck, he was protected from the worst of the dust; but the sun was terribly hot and he was continually thirsty. Eventually he realized he was running a slight fever. He thought he must have caught cold, last night, lying on the ground beside the river for hours. His breath was hot in his throat, and the muscles of his back ached.

He had to concentrate on the road. It was the only road which ran the length of Egypt, from Cairo to Aswan, and consequently much of it was paved; and in recent months the Army had done some repair work: but he still had to watch for bumps and potholes. Fortunately the road ran straight as an arrow, so he could see, far ahead, the hazards of cattle, wagons, camel trains and flocks of sheep. He drove very fast, except through the villages and towns, where at any moment people might wander out into the road: he would not kill a child to save a child, not even to save his own child.

So far he had passed only two cars-a ponderous Rolls Royce and a battered Ford. The Rolls had been driven by a uniformed chauffeur, with an elderly English couple in the back seat; and the old Ford had contained at least a dozen Arabs. By now Vandam was fairly sure Wolff was traveling by train.

Suddenly he heard a distant hoot. Looking ahead and to his left he saw, at least a mile away, a rising plume of white smoke which was unmistakably that of a steam engine. Billy! He thought. Elene! He went faster.

Paradoidcally, the engine smoke made him think of England, of gentle slopes, endless green fields, a square church tower peeping over the tops of a cluster of oak trees, and a railway line through the valley with a puffing engine disappearing into the distance. For a moment be was in that English valley, tasting the damp air of morning; then the vision passed, and he saw again the steel-blue African sky, the paddy fields, the palm trees and the far brown cliffs.

The train was coming into a town. Vandam did not know the names of the place-, anymore.- his geography was not that good, and he had rather lost track of the distance he had traveled. It was a small town. It would have three or four brick buildings and a market.

The train was going to get there before him. He had made his plans, he knew what he was going to do: but he needed time, it was impossible for him to rush into the station and jump on the train without making preparations. He reached the town and slowed right down The street was blocked by a small Bock of sheep. From a doorway an old man smoking a hookah watched Vandam: a European on a motorcycle would be a rare, but not unknown sight. An ass tied to a tree snarled at the bike. A water buffalo drinking from a bucket did not even look up. Two filthy children in rags ran alongside, holding imaginary handlebars and saying "Brrrm, bilit " in imitation. Vandam saw the station. From the square be could not see the platform, for that was obscured by a long, low station building; but he could observe the exit and see anyone who came out. He would wait outside until the train left, just in case Wolff got off; then he would go ahead, and reach the next stop in plenty of time. He brought the motorcycle to a halt and killed the engine.

The train roiled slowly over a level crossing. Elene saw the patient faces of the people behind the gate, waiting for the train to pass so that they could cross the line: a fat man on a donkey, a very small boy riding a camel, a horse-drawn cab, a group of iflent old women. The camel couched, the boy began to beat it about the face with a stick and then the scene slid sideways out of view. In a moment the train would he in the station. Elene's courage deserted her. Not this time, she thought. I haven't had time to think of a plan. The next station, let me leave it until the next station. But she had told Billy they would try to get away at this station. If she did nothing he would not trust her any longer. It had to be this time.

She tried to devise a plan. What was her priority? To get Billy away from Wolff. That was the only thing that counted. Give Billy a chance to run then try to prevent Wolff from giving chase. She had a sudden, vivid memory of a childhood fight in a filthy Mum street in Alexandria: a big boy, a bully, hitting her, and another boy intervening and struggling with the bully, the smaller boy shouting to her "Run, run!" while she stood watching the fight, horrified but fascinated. She could not remember how it had ended.

She looked around. Think quickly! They were in an open carriage, with fifteen or twenty rows of seats. She and Billy sat side by side, facing forward. Wolff was opposite them. Beside him was an empty seat. Behind him was the exit door to the platform. 'Me other passengers were a mixture of Europeans and wealthy Egyptians, all of them in 'Western clothing. Everyone was hot, weary and enervated. Several people were asleep. The train-master was serving tea in glasses to a group of Egyptian Army officers at the far end of the carriage.

Through the window she saw a small mosque, then a French courthouse, then the station. A few trees grew in the dusty soil beside the concrete platform. An old man sat cross-legged beneath a tree, smoking a cigarette. Six boyish looking Arab soldiers were crowded on to one small bench. A pregnant woman carried a baby in her arms. The train stopped. Not yet, Elene thought; not yet. The time to move would be when the train was about to pull out again---that would give Wolff less time to catch them, she sat feverishly still. There was a clock on the wall with-roman numerals. It had stopped at five to five an Arab came to the window offering fruit drink and Wolff waved him away.

A priest in Coptic robes boarded the train and took the seat next to Wolff, saying politely: "Vous permettez, monsieur?"

Wolff smiled charmingly and replied: 'Ve vous en prie."

Elene murmured to Billy: "When the whistle blows, run for the door and get off the train." Her heart beat faster: now she was committed. Billy said nothing. Wolff said: "What was that?" Elene looked away The whistle blew.

Billy looked at Elene, hesitating.

Wolff frowned.

Elene threw herself at Wolff. reaching for his face with her hands. She was suddenly possessed by rage and hatred toward him for the humiliation, anxiety and pain he had inflicted on her. He put up his arms protectively, but they did not stop her rush - Her strength astonished her. She raked his fare with her fingernails, and saw blood spurt.

The priest gave a shout of surprise.

Over the back of Wolffs seat she saw Billy run to the door and struggle to open it.

She collapsed on Wolff, banging her face against his forehead. She lifted herself again and tried to scratch his eyes.

At last he found his voice, and roared with anger. He pushed himself out of his seat, driving Elene backward. She grabbed at him and caught hold of his shirt front with both hands. Then he hit her. His hand came up from below his waist, bunched into a fist, then struck the side of her jaw. She had not known a punch could hurt so much. For an instant she could not see. She lost her grip on Wolff's shirt, and fell back into her seat. Her vision returned and she saw him heading for the door. She stood up.

Billy had got the door open. She saw him Ring it wide and jump on to the platform. Wolff leaped after him. Elene ran to the door. Billy was racing along the platform, running like the wind. Wolff was charging after him. The few Egyptians standing round were looking on, mildly astonished, and doing nothing. Elene stopped down from the train and ran after Wolff. The train shuddered, about to move. Wolff put on a burst of speed. Elene yelled "Run Billy, run!" Billy looked over his shoulder. He was almost at the exit now. A ticket collector in a raincoat stood there, looking on open mouthed. Elene thought: They won't let him out, he has no ticket. It did not matter, she realized, for the train was now inching forward, and Wolff had to get back on it. Wolff looked at the train, but did not slow his pace, Elene saw that Wolff was not going to catch Billy, and she thought: We did it, Then Billy fell.

He had -slipped on something, a patch, of sand or a leaf. He lost his balance completely, and went flying through the air, carried by the momentum of his running, to hit the ground hard. Wolff was on him in a flash, bending to lift him. Elene caught up with them and jumped on Wolffs back. Wolff stumbled, losing his grip on Billy. Elene clung to Wolff. The train was moving slowly but steadily. Wolff grabbed Mene's arms, broke her grip, and shook his wide shoulders, throwing her to the ground. For a moment she lay stunned. Looking up, she saw that Wolff had thrown Billy across his shoulder. The boy was yelling and hammering on Wolff's back, without effect. Wolff ran alongside the moving train for a few paces, then jumped in through an open door. Elene wanted to stay where she was, never to see Wolff again; but she could not leave Billy. She struggled to her feet.

She ran, stumbling, alongside the train. Someone reached out a hand to her.

She took it, and jumped. She was aboard.

She had failed miserably. She was back where she started. She felt crushed. She followed Wolff through the carriages back to their seats. She did not look at the faces of the people she passed. She saw Wolff give Billy one sharp smack on the bottom and dump him into his seat. The boy was crying silently.

Wolff turned to Elene. "You're a silly, crazy girl," he said loudly, for the benefit of the other passengers. He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him. He slapped her face with the palm of his hand, then with the back, then with the palm, again and again. It hurt, but Elene had no energy to resist. At last the priest stood up, touched Wolff's shoulder, and said something.

Wolff let her go and sat down. She looked around. They were all staring at her. None of them would help her, for she was not just an Egyptian, she was an Egyptian woman, and women, like camels, had to be beaten from time to time. As she met the eyes of the other passengers they looked away, embarrassed, and turned to their newspapers, their books and the view from the windows. No one spoke to her.

She fell into her seat. Useless, impotent rage boiled within her. Almost, they had almost escaped.

She put her arm around the child and pulled him close. She began to stroke his hair. After a while he fell asleep.

Chapter 27.

Vandam heard the train puff, pull and puff again. It gathered speed and moved out of the station. Vandam took another drink of water. The bottle was empty. He put it back in his pannier. He drew on his cigarette and threw away the butt. No one but a few peasants had gotten off the train. Vandam kicked his motorcycle into life and drove away.

In a few moments he was out of the little town and back on the straight, narrow road beside the canal. Soon he had left the train behind. It was noon: the sunshine was so hot it seemed tangible. Vandam imagined that if he stuck out his arm the beat would drag on it like a viscous liquid. The road ahead stretched into a shimmering infinity. Vandam thought: If I were to drive straight into the canal, how cool and refreshing it would be somewhere along the road he bad made a decision. He had set out from Cairo with no thought in his mind but to rescue Billy; but at some point he had realized that that was not his only duty. There was still the war. Vandam was almost certain that Wolff had been too busy at midnight last night to use his radio. This morning be had given away the radio, thrown the book in the river and burned the key to the code. It was likely that be had another radio, another copy of Rebecca and another key to the code; and that the place they were all hidden was Assyut. If Vandam's deception plan were to be implemented, he had to have the radio and the key-and that meant he had to let Wolff get to Assyut and retrieve his spare set.

It ought to have been an agonizing decision, but somehow Vandam had taken it with equanimity. He had to rescue Billy and Elene, yes; but after Wolff had picked up his spare radio. It would be tough on the boy, savagely tough, but the worst of it-the kidnapping-was already in the past and irreversible, and living under Nazi rule, with his father in a concentration camp, would also be savagely tough. Having made the decision, and hardened his heart, Vandam needed to be certain that Wolff really was on that train. And in figuring out how to check, he had thought of a way to make things a little easier for Billy and Elene at the same time.

When he reached the next town he reckoned he was at least fifteen minutes ahead of the train. It was the same kind of place as the last town: same animal, same dusty streets, same slow-moving people, same handful of brick buildings. The police station was in a central square, opposite the railway station, flanked by a large mosque and a small church. Vandam pulled up outside and gave a series of peremptory blasts on the horn of his bike. Two Arab policemen came out of the building: a gray haired man in a white uniform with a pistol at his belt, and a boy of eighteen or twenty years who was unarmed. The older man was buttoning his shirt. Vandam got off the bike and bawled: "Attention!" Both men stood straight and saluted. Vandam returned the salute, then shook the older man's hand. "I'm chasing a dangerous criminal, and I need your help," he said dramatically. The man's eyes glittered. "Let's go inside."

Vandam led the way. He felt he needed to keep the initiative firmly in his own hands. He was by no means sure of his own status here, and if the policemen were to choose to be uncooperative there would be little he could do about it. He entered the building. Through a doorway he saw a table with a telephone. He went into that room, and the policemen followed him. Vandam said to the older man: "Call British headquarters in Cairo." He gave him the number, and the man picked up the phone. Vandam turned to the younger policeman. "Did you see the motorcycle?"

"Yes, yes." He nodded violently.

"Could you ride it?"

The boy was thrilled by the idea. "I ride it very well."

"Go out and try it."

The boy looked doubtfully at his superior, who was shouting into the telephone.

"Go on," Vandam said.

The boy went out.

The older man held the phone out to Vandam "This is GHQ." Vandam spoke into the phone. "Connect me with Captain Jakes, fast." He waited.

Jakes' voice came on the line after a minute or two. "Hello, yes?"

'This is Vandam I'm in the south, following a bunch."

"There's a right panic on here since the brass heard what happened last night--the brigadier's having kittens and Bogge is running around like a fart in a colander-where in buggeration are you. Sir?"

"Never mind where exactly, I won't be here much longer and I have to work alone at the moment. In order to assure the maximal support of the indigenous constabulary-" He spoke like this so that the policeman would not be able to understand-"I want you to do your Dutch uncle act. Ready?" "Yes, sir."

Vandam gave the phone to the gray-haired policeman and stood back He could guess what Jakes was saying. The policeman unconsciously stood straighter and squared his shoulders as Jakes instructed him, in no uncertain terms, to do everything Vandam wanted and do it fast. "Yes, sir!" the policeman said, several times, finally he said: "Please be assured, sir and gentleman, that we will do all in our power--~' He stopped abruptly. Vandam guessed that Jakes had hung up. The policeman glanced at Vandam then said "Good-bye" to the empty wire.

Vandam went to the window and looked out. The young policeman was driving around and around the square on the motorcycle. Tooting the horn and over revving the engine. A small crowd had gathered to watch him, and a bunch of children were running behind the bike. The boy was grinning from ear to ear. He'll do, Vandam thought.

"Listen," be said. "I'm going to get on the Assyut train when it stops here in a few minutes. I'll get off at the next station. I want your boy to drive my bike to the next station and meet me there. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said the man. "The train will stop here, then"

"Doesn't it usually?"

"The Assyut train does not stop here usually."

"Then go to the station and tell them to stop it!"

"Yes, sir!" He went out at a run.

Vandam watched him cross the square. He could not bear the train yet. He had time for one more phone call. He picked up the receiver, waited for the operator, then asked for the army base in Assyut. It would be a miracle if the phone system worked properly twice in a row. It did. Assynt answered, and Vandam asked for Captain Newman. There was a long wait while they found him. At last he came on the line.

"This is Vandam I think I'm on the trail of your knife man."

"Jolly good show, sir!" said Newman. "Anything I can do?"

"Well, now, listen. We have to go very softly. For all sorts of reasons which I'll explain to you later, I'm working entirely on my own, and to go after Wolff with a big squad of armed men would be worse than useless." "Understood. What do you need from me?"

"I'll be arriving in Assyut in a couple of hours I need a taxi, a large galabiya and a small boy. Will you meet me?"

"Of course, no problem. Are you coming by road?"

"I'll meet you at the city limits, how's that"

"Fine." Vandam heard a distant chaff-chuff-chuff. "I have to go.

"I'll be waiting for you."

Vandam hung up. He put a five-pound note on the table beside the telephone: a little baksheesh never hurt. He went out into the square. Away to the north he could see the approaching smoke of the train. The younger policeman drove up to him on the bike. Vandam said: "I'm getting on the train. You drive the motorcycle to the next station and meet me there."

"Okay!"

"Okay, okay!" He was delighted.

Vandam took out a pound note and tore it in half. The young policeman's eyes widened. Vandam gave him half the, note. "You get the other half when you meet me."

"Okay!"

The train was almost in the station. Vandam ran across the square. The older policeman met him. "The stationmaster is stopping the train."

Vandam shook his hand. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Sergeant Nesbah."

"I'll tell them about you in Cairo. Goodbye." Vandam hurried into the station. He ran south along the7 platform, away from the train, so that he could board it at the front end without any of the passengers seeing him through the windows.

The train came in, billowing smoke. The stationmaster came along the platform to where Vandam was standing. When the train stopped the stationmaster spoke to the engine driver and the footplateman. Vandam gave all three of them baksheesh and boarded the train.

He found himself in an economy carriage. Wolff would surely travel first class. He began to walk along the train, picking his way over the people sitting on the floor with their boxes and crates and animals He noticed that it was mainly women and children on the floor: the slatted wooden seats were occupied by the men with their' bottles of beer and their cigarettes. The carriages were unbearably hot and smelly. Some of the women were cooking on makeshift stoves: surely that was dangerous! Vandam almost trod on a tiny baby crawling on the filthy floor. He had a feeling that if he had not avoided the child in the nick of time they would have lynched him.

He passed through three economy carriages, then he was at the door to a first-class coach He found a guard just outside, sitting on a little wooden stool drinking tea from a glass. The guard stood up. "Some tea, General?"

"No, thank you." Vandam had to shout to make himself heard over the noise of the wheels beneath them. "I have to check the papers of all first-class passengers."

"All in order, all very good," said the guard, trying to be helpful.

"How many first-class carriages are there?"

"All in order"

Vandam bent to shout in the man's ear. "How many first class coaches?"

The guard held up two fingers.

Vandam nodded and unbent. He looked at the door. Suddenly he was not sure that he had the nerve to go through with this. He thought that Wolff had never got a good look at him-they had fought in the dark, in the alley--but he could not be absolutely sure. The gash on his cheek might have given him away, but it was almost completely covered now by his beard; still be should try to keep that side of his face away from Wolff. Billy was the real problem. Vandam had to warn his son, somehow, to keep quiet and pretend not to recognize his father. There was no way to plan it, that was the trouble. He just had to go in there and think on his feet.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Stepping through, he glanced quickly and nervously at the first few seats and did not recognize anyone. He turned his back to the carriage as he closed the door, then turned around again. His gaze swept the rows of seats quickly: no Billy.

He spoke to the passengers nearest him. "Your papers, please, gentlemen."

"What's this, Major?" said an Egyptian Army officer, a colonel.

"Routine cheek, sir," Vandam replied.

He moved slowly along the aisle, checking peoples papers. By the time he was halfway down the carriage he had studied the passengers well enough to be sure that Wolff, Elene and Billy were not here. He felt he had to finish the pantomime of checking papers before going on to the next coach. He began to wonder whether his guesswork might have gone wrong, Perhaps they weren't on the train at all; perhaps they weren't even heading for Assyut; perhaps the atlas clue had been a trick . . He reached the end of the carriage and passed through the door into the space between the coaches. If Wolff is on the train, I'll see him now, he thought. If Billy is here-if Billy is here-He opened the door.

He saw Billy immediately. He felt a pang of distress like a wound. The boy was asleep in his seat, his feet only just reaching the floor, his body slumped sideways, his hair falling over his forehead. His mouth was open, and his jaws were moving slightly: Vandam knew, for he had seen this before, that Billy was grinding his teeth in his sleep.

The woman, who had her arm around him, and on whose bosom his head rested, was Elene. Vandam had a disorienting sense of daja vu: it reminded him of the night he had come upon Elene kissing Billy good night ... Elene looked up.

She caught Vandam's eye. He saw her face begin to change expression: her eyes widening, her mouth coming open for a cry of surprise; and, because he was prepared for something like this, he was very quick to raise a finger to his lips in a hushing sign. She understood immediately, and dropped her eyes; but Wolff had caught her look, and he was turning his head to find out what she had seen.

They were on Vandam's left, and it was his left check which had been cut by Wolff's knife. Vandam turned around so that his back was to the carriage, then he spoke to the people on the side of the aisle opposite Wolff s. "Your papers, please."

He had not reckoned on Billy being asleep.

He had been ready to give the boy a quick sign, as he had done with Elene, and he had hoped that Billy was alert enough to mask his surprise rapidly, as Elene had done. But this was a different situation. If Billy were to wake up and see his father standing there, he would probably give the game away before he had time to collect his thoughts. Vandam turned to Wolff and said: "Papers, please."

It was the first time he had seen his enemy face to face Wolff was a handsome bastard. His big face had strong features: a wide forehead, a hooked nose, even white teeth, a broad jaw. Only around the eyes and the comers of the mouth was there a hint of weakness, of self-indulgence, of depravity. He handed over his papers then looked out of the window, bored. The papers identified him as Alex Wolff, of Villa les Oliviers, Garden City. The man had remarkable nerve.

Vandam said: "Where are you going, sir!'

"Assyut."

"On business?"

"To visit relations." The voice was strong and deep, and Vandam would not have noticed the accent if he had not been listening for it.

Vandam said: "Are you people together?"

"That's my son and his nanny," Wolff said.

Vandam took Elene's papers and glanced at them. He wanted to take Wolff by the throat and shake him until his bones rattled. That's my son and his nanny. You bastard.

He gave Elene her papers. "No need to wake the child," he said. He looked at the priest sitting next to Wolff, and took the proffered wallet. Wolff said: "What's this about, Major?"

Vandam looked at him again, and noticed that he had a fresh scratch on his chin, a long one: perhaps Elene had put up some resistance.

"Security, sir," Vandam replied.

The priest said: "I'm going to Assyut, too."

"I see," said. Vandam "To the convent?"

"Indeed. You've heard of it, then."

"The place where the Holy Family stayed after their sojourn in the desert."

"Quite. Have you been there?"

"Not yet-perhaps I'll make it this time."

"I hope so," said the priest.

Vandam handed back the papers. "Thank you." He backed away, along the aisle to the next row of seats, and continued to examine papers, When he looked up he met Wolff's eyes. Wolff was watching him expressionlessly. Vandam wondered whether he had done anything suspicious. Next time be looked up, Wolff was staring out of the window again.

What was Elene thinking? She must be wondering what I'm up to, Vandam thought. Perhaps she can guess my intentions. It must be hard for her all the same, to sit still and see me walk by without a word. At least now she knows she's not alone.

What was Wolff thinking? Perhaps he was impatient, or gloating, or frightened, or eager . . . No, he was none of those, Vandam, realized; he was bored.

He reached the end of the carriage and examined the last of the papers. He was handing them back, about to retrace his steps along the aisle, when he heard a cry that pierced his heart:

"That's my dad!"

He looked up. Billy was running along the aisle toward him, stumbling, swaying from side to side, bumping against the seats, his arms outstretched.

Oh, God.

Beyond Billy, Vandam could see Wolff and Elene standing up, watching;

Wolff with intensity, Elene with fear. Vandam opened the door behind him, pretending to take no notice of Billy, and backed through it. Billy came flying through. Vandam slammed the door. He took Billy in his arms. "It's all right," Vandam, said. "It's all right."

Wolff would be coming to investigate.

"They took me away!" Billy said. "I missed geography and I was really really scared"

"It's all right now." Vandam felt he could not leave Billy now; he would have to keep the boy and kill Wolff, he would have to abandon his deception plan and the radio and the key to the code . . . No, it had to be done, it had to be done . . . He fought down his instincts. "Listen," he said. "I'm here, and I'm watching over you, but I have to catch that man, and I don't want him to know who I am. He's the German spy I'm after, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes ..."

"Listen. Can you pretend you made a mistake? Can you pretend I'm not your father? Can you go back to him?"

Billy stared, open mouthed. He said nothing but his whole expression said No, no, no! Vandam said: 'This is a real-life story, Billy, and we're in it, you and I. You have to go back to that man, and pretend you made a mistake; but remember, I'll be nearby, and together we'll catch the spy. Is that okay? Is it okay?"

Billy said nothing.

The door opened and Wolff came through.

"What's all this?" Wolff said.

Vandam made his face bland and forced a smile. "He seems to have woken up from a dream and mistaken me for his father. We're the same build, you and I ... You did say you were his father, didn't you?"

Wolff looked at Billy. "What nonsense!" he said brusquely. "Come back to your seat at once."

Billy stood still.

Vandam put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Come on, young man," he said.

"Let's go and win the war."

The old catchphrase did the trick. Billy gave a brave grin. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I must have been dreaming."

Vandam felt as though his heart would break.

Billy turned away and went back inside the coach. Wolff went after him, and Vandam followed. As they walked along the aisle the train slowed down. Vandam realized they were already approaching the next station, where his motorcycle would be waiting. Billy reached his seat and sat down. Elene was staring at Vandam uncomprehendingly. Billy touched her arm and said: "It's okay, I made a mistake, I must have been dreaming." She looked at Billy, then at Vandam, and a strange light came into her eyes: she seemed on the point of tears.

Vandam did not want to walk past them. He wanted to sit down to talk, to do anything to prolong the time he spent with them. Outside the train windows, another dusty little town appeared. Vandam yielded to temptation and paused at the carriage door. "Have a good trip," he said to Billy. "Thank you, sir."

Vandam went out.

The train pulled into the station and stopped. Vandam got off and walked forward along the platform a little way. He stood in the shade of an awning and waited. Nobody else got off, but two or three people boarded the economy coaches. There was a whistle, and the train began to move. Vandam's eye was fixed on the window which he knew to be next to Billy's seat. As the window passed him, he saw Billy's face. Billy raised his hand in a little wave. Vandam waved back, and the face was gone. Vandam realized he was trembling all over.

He watched the train recede into the hazy distance. When it was almost out of sight he left the station. There outside was his motorcycle, with the young policeman from the last town sitting astride it explaining its mysteries to a small crowd of admirers. Vandam gave him the other half of the pound note. The young man saluted.

Vandam climbed on the motorcycle and started it. He did not know how the policeman was going to get home, and he did not care. He drove out of town on the road south. The sun had passed its zenith, but the heat was still terrific.

Soon Vandam passed the train. He would reach Assyut thirty or forty minutes ahead of it, he calculated. Captain Newman would be there to meet him. Vandam knew in outline what he was going to do thereafter, but the details would have to be improvised as he went along.

He pulled ahead of the train which carried Billy and Elene, the only people he loved. He explained to himself again that he had done the right thing, the best thing for everyone, the best thing for Billy; but in the back of his mind a voice said: Cruel, cruel, cruel.

Chapter 28.

The train entered the station and stopped. Elene saw a sign which said, in Arabic and English, Assyut. She realized with a shock that they had arrived. It had been an enormous relief to see Vandam's kind, worried face on the train. For a while she bad been euphoric: surely, she bad felt, it was all over. She had watched his pantomime with the papers, expecting him at any moment to pull a gun, reveal his identity, or attack Wolff. Gradually she had realized that it would not be that simple. She had been astonished, and rather horrified, at the icy nerve with which Vandam had sent his own son back to Wolff; and the courage of Billy himself had seemed incredible. Her spirits had plunged farther when she saw Vandam on the station platform, waving as the train pulled out. What game was he playing? Of course, the Rebecca code was still on his mind. He must have some scheme to rescue her and Billy and also get the key to the code. She wished she knew how. Fortunately Billy did not seem to be troubled by such thoughts: his father had the situation under control, and apparently the boy did not even entertain the idea that his father's schemes could fail. He had perked up, taking an interest in the countryside through which the train was passing, and had even asked Wolff where he got his knife. Elene wished she had as much faith in William Vandam

Wolff was also in good spirits. The incident with Billy had scared him, and he had looked at Vandam with hostility and anxiety; but he seemed reassured when Vandam got off the train. After that his mood had oscillated between boredom and nervous excitement, and now, arriving in Assyut, the excitement became dominant. Some kind of change had occurred in Wolff in the last twenty-four hours, she thought. When she first met him he had been a very poised, suave man. His face bad rarely shown any spontaneous emotion other than a faint arrogance, his features had been generally rather still, his movements had been almost languid. Now all that had gone. He fidgeted, he looked about him restlessly, and every few seconds the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, as if he were about to grin, or perhaps to grimace, at his thoughts. The poise which had once seemed to be part of his deepest nature now turned out to be a cracked facade. She guessed this was because his fight with Vandam had become vicious. What had begun as a deadly game had turned into a deadly battle. It was curious that Wolff, the ruthless one, was getting desperate while Vandam just got cooler.

Elene thought: Just so long as he doesn't get too damn cool. Wolff stood up and took his case from the luggage rack. Elene and Billy followed him from the train and on to the platform. This town was bigger and busier than the others they had Passed through, and the station was crowded. As they stepped down from the train they were jostled by people trying to get on. Wolff, a head higher than most of the people, looked around for the exit, spotted it, and began to carve a path through the throng. Suddenly a dirty boy in bare feet and green striped pajamas snatched Wolffs case, shouting: "I get taxi! I get taxi!" Wolff would not let go of the case, but neither would the boy. Wolff gave a good-humored shrug, touched with embarrassment, and let the boy pull him to the gate. They showed their tickets and went out into the square. It was late afternoon, but here in the south the sun was still very hot. The square was lined with quite tall buildings, one of them called the Grand Hotel. Outside the station was a row of horse-drawn cabs. Elene looked around, half expecting a detachment of soldiery ready to arrest Wolff. There was no sign of Vandam Wolff told the Arab boy: "Motor taxi, I want a motor taxi." "Mere was one such car, an old Morris parked a few yards behind the horse cabs. The boy led them to it.

"Get in the front," Wolff told Elene. He gave the boy a coin and got into the back of the car with Billy. The driver wore dark glasses and an Arab headdress to keep the sun off. "Go south, toward the convent," Wolff told the driver in Arabic.

"Okay," the driver said.

Elene's heart missed a beat. She knew that voice. She stared at the driver. It was Vandam

Vandam drove away from the station, thinking: So far, so good-except for the Arabic. It had not occurred to him that Wolff would speak to a taxi-driver in Arabic. Vandam's knowledge of the language was rudimentary, but he was able to give-and therefore to understand- -directions. He could reply in monosyllables, or grunts, or even in English, for those Arabs who spoke a little English were always keen to use it, even when addressed by a European in Arabic. He would be all right as long as Wolff did not want to discuss the weather and the crops.

Captain Newman had come through with everything Vandam had asked for, including discretion. He had even loaned Vandam his revolver, a six shot Enfield .380 which was now in the pocket of Vandam's trousers beneath his borrowed galabiya. While waiting for the train Vandam had studied Newman's map of Assyut and the surrounding area, so he had some idea of how to find the southbound road out of the city. He drove through the souk, honking his horn more or less continually in the Egyptian fashion, steering dangerously close to the great wooden wheels of the carts, nudging sheep out of the way with his fenders. From the buildings on either side shops, cafes and workshops spilled out into the street. The unpaved road was surfaced with dust, rubbish and dung. Glancing into his rear-view mirror Vandam saw that four or five children were riding his back bumper.

Wolff said something, and this time Vandam did not understand. He pretended not to have beard. Wolff repeated it. Vandam caught the word for petrol. Wolff was pointing to a garage. Vandam tapped the gauge on the dashboard, which showed a full tank. "Kifaya," he said. "Enough." Wolff seemed to accept that.

Pretending to adjust his mirror, Vandam stole a glance at Billy, wondering if he had recognized his father. Billy was staring at the back of Vandam's head with an expression of delight. Vandam thought: Don't give the game away, for God's sake! They left the town behind and headed south on a straight desert road. On their left were the irrigated fields and groves of trees; on their right, the wall of granite cliffs, colored beige by a layer of dusty sand. The atmosphere in the car was peculiar. Vandam could sense Elene's tension, Billy's euphoria and Wolff's impatience. He himself was very edgy. How much of all that was getting through to Wolff? The spy needed only to take one good look at the taxi driver to realize he was the man who had inspected papers on the train. Vandam hoped Wolff was preoccupied with thoughts of his radio.

Wolff said: "Ruh alyaminak."

Vandam knew this meant "Turn right." Up ahead he saw a turn-off which seemed to lead straight to the cliff He slowed the car and took the turn, then saw that he was headed for a pass through the hills.

Vandam was surprised. Farther along the southbound road there were some villages and the famous convent, according to Newman's map; but beyond these hills there was nothing but the Western Desert. If Wolff had buried the radio in the sand he would never find it again. Surely he knew better? Vandam hoped so, for if Wolff's plans were to collapse, so would his.

The road began to climb, and the old car struggled to take the gradient. Vandam changed down once, then again. The car made the summit in second gear. Vandam looked out across an apparently endless desert. He wished he had a jeep. He wondered how far Wolff had to go. They had better get back to Assyut before nightfall. He could not ask Wolff questions for fear of revealing his ignorance of Arabic.

The road became a track. Vandam drove across the desert, going as fast as he dared, waiting for instructions from Wolff. Directly ahead, the sun rolled down the edge of the sky. After an hour they passed a small flock of sheep grazing on tufty, sparse camel thorn, guarded by a man and a boy.

Wolff sat up in his seat and began to look about him. Soon afterward the road intersected a wadi. Cautiously Vandam let the car roll down the hank of the dried-up river.

Wolff said: "Ruh ashshinzalak."

Vandam turned left. The going was firm. He was astonished to see groups of people, tents and animals in the wadi. It was like a secret community. A mile farther on they saw the explanation: a wellhead.

The mouth of the well was marked by a low circular wan of mud brick. Four roughly dressed tree trunks leaned together over the hole, supporting a crude winding mechanism. Four or five men hauled water continuously, emptying the buckets into four radiating troughs around the wellhead. Camels and women crowded around the troughs.

Vandam drove close to the well. Wolff said: "Andak. Vandam stopped the car. The desert people were incurious, although it must have been rare for them to see a motor vehicle: perhaps, Vandam thought, their hard lives left them no time to investigate oddities. Wolff was asking questions of one of the men in rapid Arabic. There was a short exchange. The man pointed ahead. Wolff said to Vandam: "Dughri." Vandam drove on.

At last they came to a large encampment where Wolff made Vandam stop. There were several tents in a cluster, some penned sheep, several hobbled camels and a couple of cooking fires. With a sudden quick movement Wolff reached into the front of the car, switched off the engine and pulled out the key. Without a word he got out.

Ishmael was sitting by the fire, making tea. He looked up and said: "Peace be with you," as casually as if Wolff had dropped in from the tent next door.

"And with you be health and God's mercy and blessing," Wolff replied formally.

"How is thy health?"

"God bless thee; I am well, thank God." Wolff squatted in the sand.

Ishmael handed him a cup. "Take it."

"God increase thy good fortune," Wolff said.

"And thy good fortune also."

Wolff drank the tea. It was hot, sweet and very strong. He remembered how this drink had fortified him during his trek through the desert ... was it only two months ago?

When Wolff had drunk, Ishmael raised his hand to his head and said: "May it agree with thee, sir."

"God grant it may agree with thee."

The formalities were done. Ishmael said: "What of your friends?" He nodded toward the taxi, parked in the middle of the wadi, incongruous among the tents and camels.

"They are not friends," Wolff said.

Ishmael nodded. He was incurious. For all the polite inquiries about one's health, Wolff thought, the nomads were not really interested in what city people did: their lives were so different as to be incomprehensible.

Wolff said: "You still have my box?"

"Yes.,'

Ishmael would say yes, whether he had it or not, Wolff thought; that was the Arab way. Ishmael made no move to fetch the suitcase. He was incapable of hurrying. "Quickly" meant "within the next few days"; "immediately" meant "tomorrow."

Wolff said: "I must return to the city today."

"But you will sleep in my tent."

"Alas, no."

"Then you will join us in eating."

"Twice alas. Already the sun is low, and I must be back In the city before night falls."

Ishmael shook his head sadly, with the look of one who contemplates a hopeless case. "You have come for your box."

"Yes. Please fetch it, my cousin."

Ishmael spoke to a man standing behind him, who spoke to a younger man, who told a child to fetch the case. Ishmael offered Wolfe a cigarette. Wolff took it out of politeness. Ishmael lit the cigarettes with a twig from the fire. Wolff wondered where the cigarettes had come from. The child brought the case and offered it to Ishmael. Ishmael pointed to Wolff.

Wolff took the case and opened it. A great sense of relief flooded over him as he looked at the radio, the book and the key to the code. On the long and tedious train journey his euphoria had vanished, but now it came back, and he felt intoxicated with the sense of power and imminent victory. Once again he knew he was going to win the war. He closed the lid of the case.

His hands were unsteady.

Ishmael was looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Ibis is very important to you, this box."

"It's important to the world."

Ishmael said: "The sun rises, and the sun sets. Sometimes it rains. We live, then we die." He shrugged.

He would never understand, Wolff thought; but others would. He stood up.

"I thank you, my cousin."

"Go in safety."

"May God protect thee."

Wolff turned around and walked toward the taxi.

Elene saw Wolff walk away from the fire with a suitcase in his hand. "He's coming back," she said. "What now?"

"He'll want to go back to Assyut," Vandam said, not looking at her. "Those radios have no batteries, they have to be plugged in, he has to go somewhere where there's electricity, and that means Assyut." Billy said: "Can I come in the front?"

"No," Vandam said. "Quiet, now. Not much longer."

"I'm scared of him."

"So am I"

Elene shuddered. Wolff got into the car. "Assyut," he said. Vandam held out his hand, palm upward, and Wolff dropped the key in it. Vandam started the car and turned it around.

They went along the wadi, past the well, and turned onto the road. Elene was thinking about the case Wolff held on his knees. It contained the radio, the book and the key to the Rebecca code: how absurd it was that so much should hang on the question of who held that case in his hands, that she should have risked her life for it, that Vandam should have jeopardized his son for it. She felt very tired. The sun was low behind them now, and the smallest objects-boulders, bushes, tufts of grass--cast long shadows. Evening clouds were gathering over the hills ahead. "Go faster," Wolff said in Arabic. "It's getting dark."

Vandam seemed to understand, for he increased speed. The car bounced and swayed on the unmade road. After a couple of minutes Billy said: "I feel sick."

Elene turned around to look at him. His face was pale and tense, and he was sitting bolt upright. "Go slower," she said to Vandam, then she repeated it in-Arabic, as if she had just recalled that he did not speak English.

Vandam slowed down for a moment, but Wolff said: "Go faster." He said to Elene: "Forget about the child."

Vandam went faster.

Elene looked at Billy again. He was as white as a sheet, and seemed to be on the brink of tears. "You bastard," she said to Wolff.

"Stop the car," Billy said.

Wolff ignored him, and Vandam had to pretend not to understand English. There was a low hump in the road. Breasting it at speed, the car rose a few inches into the air, and came down again with a bump. Billy yelled: "Dad, stop the car! Dad!" Vandam slammed on the brakes.

Elene braced herself against the dashboard and turned her head to look at Wolff.

For a split second he was stunned with shock. His eyes went to Vandam then to Billy. then back to Vandam, and she saw in his expression first incomprehension, then astonishment, then fear. She knew he was thinking about. The incident on the train, and the Arab boy at the railway station, and the kafflyeh that covered the taxi driver's face; and then she saw that he knew, he had understood it all in a flash.

The car was screeching to a halt, throwing the passengers forward. Wolff regained his balance. With a rapid movement he threw his left arm around Billy and pulled the boy to him. Elene saw his band go inside his shirt, and then he pulled out the knife.

The car stopped.

Vandam looked around. At the same moment, Elene saw, his hand went to the side slit of his galabiya-and froze there as be looked into the back seat. Elene turned too.

Wolff held the knife an inch from the soft skin of Billy's throat. Billy was wild-eyed with fear. Vandam looked stricken. At the corners of Wolffs mouth there was the hint of a mad smile.

"Damn it," Wolff said. "You almost had me."

They all stared at him in silence.

"Take off that foolish hat," he said to Vandam

Vandam removed the kafflyeh.

"Let me guess," said Wolff. "Major Vandam" He seemed to be enjoying the moment. "What a good thing I took your son for insurance."

"It's finished, Wolff," said Vandam "Half the British Army is on your trail. You can let me take you alive, or let them kill you."

"I don't believe you're telling the truth," Wolff said. "You wouldn't have brought the Army to look for your son. You'd be afraid those cowboys would shoot the wrong people. I don't think your superiors even know where you are."

Elene felt sure Wolff was right, and she was gripped by despair. She had no idea what Wolff would do now, but she felt sure Vandam had lost the battle. She looked at Vandam, and saw defeat in his eyes.

Wolff said: "Underneath his galabiya, Major Vandam is wearing a pair of khaki trousers. In one of the pockets of the trousers, or possibly in the waistband, you will find a gun. Take it out."

Elene reached through the side slit of Vandam's galabiya and found the gun in his pocket. She thought: How did Wolff know? And then: He guessed. She took the gun out.

She looked at Wolff. He could not take the gun from her without releasing Billy, and if he released Billy, even for a moment, Vandam would do something.

But Wolff had thought of that. "Break the back of the gun, so that the barrel falls forward. Be careful not to pull the trigger by mistake." She fiddled with the gun.

Wolff said: "You'll probably find a catch alongside the cylinder."

She found the catch and opened the gun.

"Take out the cartridges and drop them outside the car."

She did so.

"Put the gun on the floor of the car."

She put it down.

Wolff seemed relieved. Now, once again, the only weapon in the picture was his knife. He spoke to Vandam "Get out of the car."

Vandam sat motionless.

"Get out," Wolff repeated. With a sudden precise movement he nicked the lobe of Billys ear with the knife. A drop of blood welled out.

Vandam got out of the car.

Wolff said to Elene: "Get into the driving seat."

She climbed over the gear stick.

Vandam had left the car door open. Wolff said: "Close the door." Elene closed the door. Vandam stood beside the car, staring in.

"Drive," Wolff said.

The car had stalled. Elene put the gearshift into neutral and turned the key. The engine coughed and died. She hoped it would not go. She turned the key again; again the starter failed.

Wolff said: "Touch the accelerator pedal as you turn the key."

She did what he said. The engine caught and roared.

"Drive," Wolff said.

She pulled away.

"Faster."

She changed up.

Looking in the mirror she saw Wolff put the knife away and release Billy. Behind the car, already fifty yards away, Vandam stood on the desert road, his silhouette black against the sunset. He was quite still.

Elene said: "He's got no water!"

"No," Wolff replied.

Then Billy went berserk.

Elene heard him scream: "You can't leave him behind!" She turned around, forgetting about the road. Billy had leaped on Wolff like an enraged wildcat, punching and scratching and, somehow, kicking-, yelling incoherently, his face a mask of childish rage, his body jerking convulsively like one in a fit. Wolff, who had relaxed, thinking the crisis was over, was momentarily powerless to resist. In the confined space, with Billy so close to him, he was unable to strike a proper blow, so he raised his arms to protect himself, and pushed against the boy.

Elene looked back to the road. While she was turning around. the car had gone off course, and now the left-hand front wheel was plowing through the sandy scrub beside the road. She struggled to turn the steering wheel but it seemed to have a will of its own. She stamped on the brake, and the rear of the car began to slide sideways. Too late, she saw a deep rut running across the road immediately in front. The skidding car hit the rut broadside with an impact that jarred her bones. It seemed to bounce upward. Elene came up off the seat momentarily, and when she came down again she unintentionally trod on the accelerator pedal. The car shot forward and began to skid in the other direction. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Wolff and Billy were being tossed about helplessly, still fighting. The car went off the road into the soft sand. It slowed abruptly, and Elene banged her forehead on the rim of the steering wheel. The whole of the car tilted sideways and seemed to be flying. She saw the desert fall away beside her, and realized the car was in fact rolling. She thought it would go over and over. She fell sideways, grabbing at the wheel and the gear stick. The car did not turn turtle, but perched on its side like a coin dropped edgeways into the sand. The gear shift came off in her hand. She slumped against the door, banging her head again. The car was still. She got to her hands and knees, still holding the broken-off gear stick, and looked into the rear of the car. Wolff and Billy had fallen in a heap with Wolff on top. As she looked, Wolff moved.

She had hoped he was dead.

She had one knee on the car door and the other an the window. On her right the roof of the car stood up vertically. On her left was the seat. She was looking through the gap between the top of the seat back and the roof.

Wolff got to his feet.

Billy seemed to be unconscious.

Elene felt disoriented and helpless, kneeling on the side window of the car.

Wolff, standing on the inside of the left-hand rear door, threw his weight against the floor of the car. The car rocked. He did it again; the car rocked more. On his third try the car tilted over and fell on all four wheels with a crash. Elene was dizzy. She saw Wolff open the door and get out of the car. He stood outside, crouched and drew his knife. She saw Vandam approaching.

She knelt on the seat, watching. She could not move until her head stopped spinning. She saw Vandam crouch like Wolff, ready to spring, his hands raised protectively. He was red-faced and panting: he had run after the car. They circled. Wolff was limping slightly. The sun was a huge orange globe behind them.

Vandam moved forward, then seemed to hesitate curiously. Wolff lashed out with the knife, but he had been surprised by Vandam's hesitation, and his thrust missed. Vandam's fist lashed out. Wolff jerked back. Elene saw that Wolff's nose was bleeding.

They faced each other again, like boxers in a ring.

Vandam jumped forward again. This time Wolff dodged back. Vandam kicked out, but Wolff was out of range. Wolff jabbed with the knife. Elene saw it rip through Vandam's trousers and draw blood. Wolff stabbed again, but Vandam had stepped away. A dark stain appeared on his trouser leg. Elene looked at Billy. The boy lay limply on the floor of the car, his eyes closed. Elene clambered over into the back and lifted him onto the seat. She could not tell whether he was dead or alive. She touched his face. He did not stir. "Billy," she said. '~Oh, Billy."

She looked outside again. Vandam was down on one knee. His left arm hung limply from a shoulder covered with blood. He held his right arm out in a defensive gesture. Wolff approached him.

Elene jumped out of the car. She still bad the broken-off gear stick in her hand. She saw Wolff bring back his arm, ready to slash at Vandam once more. She rushed up behind Wolff, stumbling in the sand. Wolff struck at Vandam Vandam jerked sideways, dodging the blow. Elene raised the gear stick high in the air and brought it down with all her might on the back of Wolff's head. He seemed to stand still for a moment.

Elene said: "Oh, God."

Then she hit him again.

She hit him a third time.

He fell down.

She hit him again.

Then she dropped the gear stick and knelt beside Vandam

"Well done," he said weakly.

"Can you stand up?"

He put a hand on her shoulder and struggled to his feet. "It's not as bad as it looks," he said.

"Let me see."

"In a minute. Help me with this." Using his good arm, he took hold of Wolffs leg and pulled him toward the car. Elene grabbed the unconscious man's arm and heaved. When Wolff was lying beside the car, Vandam lifted Wolffs limp arm and placed the hand on the running board, palm down. Then he lifted his foot and stamped on the elbow. Wolff's arm snapped. Elene turned white. Vandam said: "That's to make sure he's no trouble when he comes round."

He leaned into the back of the car and put a band on Billy's chest.

"Alive," be said. "Thank God."

Billy's eyes opened.

"It's all over," Vandam said.

Billy closed his eyes.

Vandam got into the front seat of the car. "Where's the gear stick?" he said.

"It broke off. That's what I hit him with."

Vandam turned the key. The car jerked. "Good-it's still in gear," he said. He pressed the clutch and turned the key again. The engine fired. He eased out the clutch and the car moved forward. He switched off.

"We're mobile," he said. "What a piece of luck."

"What will we do with Wolff?'

"Put him in the boot."

Vandam took another look at Billy. He was conscious now, his eyes wide open. "How are you, son?" said Vandam

"I'm sorry," Billy said, "but I couldn't help feeling sick."

Vandam looked at Elene. "You'll have to drive," he said. There were tears in his eyes.

Chapter 29.

There was the sudden, terrifying roar of nearby aircraft. Rommel glanced up and saw the British bombers approaching low from behind the nearest line of hills: the troops called them "Party Rally" bombers because they flew in the perfect formation of display aircraft at the pre-war Nuremberg parades. "Take cover!" Rommel yelled. He ran to a slit trench and dived in.

The noise was so loud it was like silence. Rommel lay with his eyes closed. He had a pain in his stomach. They had sent him a doctor from Germany, but Rommel knew that the only medicine he needed was victory. He had lost a lot of weight: his uniform hung loosely on him now, and his shirt collars seemed too large. His hair was receding rapidly and turning white in places.

Today was September 1, and everything had gone terribly wrong. What had seemed to be the weak point in the Allied defense lie was looking more and more like an ambush. The minefields were heavy where they should have been light, the ground beneath had been quicksand where hard going was expected, and the Alam Halfa ridge, which should have been taken easily, was being mightily defended. Rommel's strategy was wrong; his intelligence had been wrong; his spy had been wrong.

The bombers passed overhead. Rommel got out of the trench. His aides and officers emerged from cover and gathered around him again. He raised his field glasses and looked out over the desert. Scores of vehicles stood still in the sand, many of them blazing furiously. If the enemy would only charge, Rommel thought, we could fight him. But the Allies sat tight, well dug in, picking off the Panzer tanks like fish in a barrel.

It was no good. His forward units were fifteen miles from Alexandria. But they were stuck Fifteen miles, he thought. Another fifteen miles and Egypt would have been mine. He looked at the officers around him. As always, their expressions reflected his own: he saw in their faces what they saw in his.

It was defeat

He knew it was a nightmare, but he could not wake up.

The cell was six feet long by four feet wide, and half of it was taker up by a bed. Beneath the bed was a chamberpot. The walls were of smooth gray stone. A small light bulb hung from the ceiling by a cord. In one end of the cell was a door. In the other end was a small square window, set just above eye level: through it he could see the bright blue sky. In his dream he thought: I'll wake up soon, then it will be all right. I'll wake. up, and there will be a beautiful woman lying beside me on a silk sheet, and I will touch her breasts-and as he. thought this he was filled with strong lust-and she will wake up and kiss me, and we will drink champagne ... But he could not quite dream that, and the dream of the prison cell came back. Somewhere nearby a bass drum was beating-steadily. Soldiers were marching to the rhythm outside. The beat was terrifying, terrifying, boomboom, boom-boom, tramp-tramp the drum and the soldiers and the close gray walls of the cell and that distant, tantalizing square of blue sky and he was so frightened, so horrified, that he forced his eyes open and he woke up.

He looked around him, not understanding. He was awake, wide awake, no question about it, the dream was over; yet he was still in a prison cell. It was six feet long by four feet wide, and half of it was taker) up by abed. He raised himself from the bed and looked underneath it. There was a chamberpot.

He stood upright. then, quietly and calmly, he began to bang his head against the wall.

Jerusalem, 24 September 42

My dear Elene,

Today I went to the Western Wall, which is also called the Wailing Wall. I stood before it with many other Jews, and I prayed. r wrote a kvitlach and put it into a crack in the wall. May God grant my petition. Ibis is the most beautiful place in the world, Jerusalem. Of course I do not live well. I sleep on a mattress on the floor in a little room with five other men. Sometimes I get a little work, sweeping up in a workshop where one of my roommates, a young man, carries wood for the carpenters. I am very poor, like always, but now I am poor in Jerusalem, which is better than rich in Egypt.

I crossed the desert in a British Army truck. They asked me what I would have done if they had not picked me up, and when I said I would have walked, I believe they thought me mad. But this is the sanest thing I ever did.

I must tell you that I am dying. My illness is quite incurable, even if I could afford doctors, and I have only weeks left, perhaps a couple of months. Don't be sad. I have never been happier in my life.

I should tell you what I wrote in my kvitlach. I asked God to grant happiness to my daughter Elene. I believe he will. Farewell,

Your Father.

The smoked ham was sliced as thin as paper and rolled into dainty cylinders. The bread rolls were home-baked, fresh that morning. There was a glass jar of potato salad made with real mayonnaise and crisp chopped onion. There were a bottle of wine, another bottle of soda and a bag of oranges. And a packet of cigarettes, his brand.

Elene began to pack the food into the picnic basket.

She had just closed the lid when she heard the knock at the door. She took off her apron before going to open it.

Vandam stepped inside, closed the door behind him and kissed her. He put his arms around her and held her painfully tightly. He always did this, and it always hurt, but she never complained, for they had almost lost each other, and now when they were together they were just so grateful.

They went into the kitchen. Vandam hefted the picnic basket and said:

"Lord, what have you got in here, the Crown Jewels?"

"What's the news?" Elene asked.

He knew she meant news of the war in the desert. He said: "Axis forces in full retreat, and I auote." She thought how relaxed he was these days. He even talked differently. A little gray was appearing in his hair, and be laughed a lot.

"I think you're one of those men who gets more good-looking as he gets older," she said.

"Wait till my teeth drop out."

They went out. The sky was curiously black, and Elene said "Oh!" in surprise as she stepped into the street.

"End of the world today," Vandam said.

"I've never seen it like this before" Elene said.

They got on the motorcycle and headed for Billy's school. The sky became even darker. The first rain fell as they were passing Shepheard's Hotel; Elene saw an Egyptian drape a handkerchief over his fez. The raindrops were enormous; each one soaked right through her dress to the skin. Vandam turned the bike around and parked in front of the hotel. As they dismounted the clouds burst.

They stood under the hotel canopy and watched the storm. The sheer quantity of water was incredible, within minutes the gutters overflowed and the pavements were awash. Opposite the hotel the shopkeepers waded through the flood to put up shutters. The cars simply had to stop where they were.

"There's no main drainage in this town," Vandam remarked. "The water has nowhere to go but the Nile. Look at it." The street had turned into a river.

"What about the bike?" Elene said.

"Damn thing will float away," said Vandam "I'll have to bring it under here." He hesitated, then dashed out on to the pavement, seized the bike by its handlebars and pushed it through the water to the steps of the hotel. When he regained the shelter of the canopy his clothes were thoroughly soaked and his hair was plastered around his head like a mop coming out of a bucket. Elene laughed at him.

The rain went on a long time. Elene said "What about Billy?"

"They'll have to keep the kids at school until the rain stops." Eventually they went into the hotel for a drink. Vandam ordered sherry: he had sworn off gin, and claimed he did not miss it.

At last the storm ended, and they went out again; but they had to wait a little longer for the flood to recede. Finally there was only an inch or so of water, and the sun came out. The motorists began to try to start their cars. The bike was not too wet, and it fired first time.

The sun came out and the roads began to steam as they drove to the school. Billy was waiting outside. "What a storm!" he said excitedly. He climbed on to the bike, sitting between Elene and Vandam

They drove out into the desert. Holding on tightly, her eyes half closed, Elene did not see the miracle until Vandam stopped the bike. The three of them got off and looked around, speechless.

The desert was carpeted with flowers.

"It's the rain, obviously," said Vandam "But ...

Millions of flying insects had also appeared from nowhere, and now butterflies and bees dashed frantically from bloom to bloom, reaping the sudden harvest.

Billy said: "The seeds must have been in the sand, waiting."

"That's it," Vandam said. "The seeds have been there for years, just waiting for this."

The flowers were all tiny, like miniatures, but very brightly colored. Billy walked a few paces from the road and bent down to examine one. Vandam put his arms around Elene and kissed her. It started as a peck on the cheek, but turned into a long, loving embrace.

Eventually she broke away from him, laughing. "You'll embarrass Billy," she said.

"He's going to have to get used to it," Vandam said.

Elene stopped laughing. "Is he?" she said. "Is he, really?"

Vandam smiled, and kissed her again.