Oasis of Night (30 page)

He nodded. “Uh-huh” was all he said. “I got a car you can borrow.”

“Yeah? You'd let me use your car?” I massaged my neck. Whoever had been on the other end of that rope was serious about his work. I felt like I had whiplash. “You trust me?”

“Sam Halim trusted you.” He reached out and dusted me down. “That's good enough for me.” He took an automatic pistol out of his pocket. “Brought a little insurance, too. You never know what's waiting for you. Best to be prepared.”

It might not be a bad idea to keep him close, where I could see him. “Maybe you ought to come with me.”

“Maybe I ought to.” He put the gun away and fell into step beside me. “El Fayoum, huh? So what's in El Fayoum that's so important to you, Jack?”

 

 

T
EX
'
S
CAR
was a decommissioned army truck you could drive anywhere, including off a cliff. The dunes were no problem. It took a couple hours to get to the oasis, which meant we landed there while it was still dark. We stopped for gasoline at a rickety shack near Tirsa, and the American owner's Turkish wife knew Jonah Octavian and his house; it stood out by virtue of it being the one farthest from the road. We killed the lights as we approached and cut the motor so we wouldn't give ourselves away. The house was white—a symbol of power in Egypt—and sprawling, with lots of fancy grillwork and clumps of aloes and date palms planted out in front. Tex and I approached on foot with guns drawn, but there was nobody around. The household, it seemed, had retired for the evening.

I motioned to Tex and hammered on the door. Nobody answered. I waited a few more minutes and knocked again, but there was no response. There were no lights showing in any of the windows, so I decided to chance it. I reached for the doorknob and turned it, and the door swung open, bumping back gently against the inside wall.

Somebody was in there all right, sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace—there was just enough ambient light from the full moon to make him out—but whether he minded us being there, I didn't know. He was dead, his head bashed in, and whoever had given him the business had taken the time to make sure it was right. His face had been battered to a pulp, but the features were still recognizable, and seeing him, I got real cold and sick inside.

The dead man was my best friend, Frankie Missalo.

One of the shadows at the rear of the room detached itself and moved toward us. I brought my gun up, level with the spot between his eyes, but I knew as soon as I saw him that I couldn't—wouldn't—shoot.

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “I am so very sorry you have had to find me like this, Jack.” He glanced at the dead man lolling in the chair. “I did not want to come here.” His voice was slow and solemn, and very sad. “I simply had no other choice.”

 

 

“W
HAT
'
D
HE
ever do to you?” My voice trembled and I hated myself for it. “He was nothing to you; he was nobody. Goddammit, Sam—” I went weak in the knees as it all fell in on me, the whole filthy mess. “Why'd you kill him? Why?”

“I did not kill this man. Errki Aaltonen brought me here, at Jonah Octavian's request.” Sam looked haggard and worn, much like the day I'd seen him at the bank. But other than that, he was basically okay. “This poor soul was already here—already dead—when I arrived.” He saw Tex standing behind me. “I see you two have found each other. That is well.”

“Where's Aaltonen?” I crouched beside the chair and checked Frankie for a pulse, even though I knew it was pointless. What the hell. It gave me something to do and kept my mind from sliding away into darker places than this. “Is he here?”

“No, Aaltonen has gone into Cairo on business. Jack, you must get out of here at once.”

I straightened. “And leave you here to fend for yourself? Nothing doing.”

“Jack….” Sam reached toward me. “My dear friend.”

Tex cleared his throat. “I'm just gonna post myself as guard, Jack. Just in case somebody comes sniffing around.” He disappeared down a side corridor silently.

“I'm not leaving you.” I grabbed hold of Sam's shoulders and pulled him into my arms, and it was just like this nasty house and poor Frankie and the whole sorry mess no longer existed. He felt so good, so strong and whole and real. “Goddammit, Sam, I came halfway around the world looking for you, and if you think I'm gonna—” His mouth was hot, a blissful, wet caress, and I returned the kiss gladly.

“Jack, you must go.” He cupped my face between his palms and gazed at me as if memorizing my features. “We will be together again very soon, but you must leave now. You must let me do this my own way. Do you hear me?”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” I held him tightly against me. “If I leave you here, I might never see you again.”

“Of course you will see me again.” He drew back. “If not in this world, in the next one.” His strong, lean hands kneaded my shoulders. “I must be free to act without restraint.” His face softened. “Jack, it is so very good to see you. I am so glad you came.”

“What… uh, what happened to Frankie?” I couldn't look at Frankie's body; it hurt too much, and reminded me of when we were kids together back in Philly, going to school and playing ball and serving at mass, doing all the normal kid things. It was Frankie who'd suggested I go to Newfoundland in the first place and start over. I had him to thank for my new lease on life. I could never repay him for the thousand kindnesses, large and small, that he had done for me.

“I do not know. He was… like that when I arrived. I take it you did not know he was in Cairo?”

“No. I had no idea. He set up this whole thing for me, even got me a ride on a military transport. I don't know how the hell he came to be here, of all places.”

“Jack.” Sam led me away from the body. “You must leave here at once. Aaltonen is due back at any moment, and I cannot take the risk.”

“But surely this place is being watched! Sam, they had to have seen me coming here with Tex.”

“I know. Jack, let me err on the side of caution.” He caught sight of the gold cartouche on its chain around my neck. “You are wearing it… the gift I gave you.”

“Yeah.” I smoothed the gold until it warmed between my fingers. “I never take it off. Sam, what is this? Why won't you come back to Cairo with me? Now. Tonight?”

“I cannot. Please, go now.” He smiled. “I am so grateful to have seen you, but it isn't safe for you here.”

There were so many things I wanted to ask him, so much more I needed to tell him. “Okay, Sam, if that's the way you want it.” I caught him to me and kissed him, just as Tex came running up and said he'd seen headlights far out on the desert and maybe we should go. I took hold of Sam's hands and hung on as long as I could. “Promise me you will come back. I'm staying at the Acacia Court, room—”

“I know where you are, Jack.” He turned my right hand and kissed the palm. “I always know where you are.
Ma salaama.
Go now.”

It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do, leaving him in that place, standing there alone in the dark with Frankie Missalo's body. Tex and I hurried back to the truck and hopped aboard, spinning sand until we finally hit the road, burning rubber all the way back to Cairo.

 

 

A
FTER
T
EX
dropped me back at the hotel, I tried to get some sleep, but I couldn't rest. More than once, I picked up the phone, thinking I'd call Philly and let Frankie's mother know what had happened to her son. But I knew I couldn't do that. One word spoken out of turn would put Sam in serious jeopardy, and anyway, they couldn't hurt Frankie anymore. I had to let things be, let Sam work whatever plan he had in his mind, and hope it would come out all right in the end. When all this was over, I'd call Mrs. Missalo and tell her how her son had died bravely in the service of his country. I didn't know if that were strictly true, but it's what I intended to tell her.

At dawn, I heard the muezzin's call echoing over the rooftops, and I knelt down by my bed. I don't know what possessed me to do it—I hadn't prayed in years—and I doubted I had any faith left, but I figured it couldn't hurt. I blessed myself and said the decades of the rosary and the Lord's Prayer and after that, I sat there in the silence while the sun rose over the city. At seven thirty, I called room service to order breakfast. The waiter brought me a tray and a telegram from the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary. Alphonsus Picco had come through. The gist of it was that Octavian had gone to Cairo to meet with some unnamed contact, an American who was well-placed in the North Atlantic command. Picco didn't know why Octavian was meeting this guy, but given Octavian's record, it probably had to do with a crooked construction scheme or three. The Constabulary's special wartime division had been investigating Octavian ever since he first turned up in St. John's, about six months before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Mostly, he kept his nose clean and didn't interfere with anybody who didn't interfere with him, but that whole business with Julie Fayre—his partner in crime and erstwhile lady love—hadn't done him any good, so these days he was being more careful. Picco didn't know who Octavian's Cairo contact was, but he'd wire me with further details if he had any.

Well, that left me about where I'd been all along. No matter how I looked at this, it all came back to Octavian. I'd come to Cairo looking for Sam, and I'd found him, but I'd found a lot of other things as well. Pasha Nubar had been ready to tell me about Shiva's murder, except he never got the chance. Samir had said they had Nubar's killer in custody, so maybe the best way for me to get a little insight was to go down to the police station and take a look. I didn't know what time Samir went on duty, so I put in a call to the station and was told that no, Sergeant Samir wasn't on duty until later that evening. “You guys brought in the scum who killed Pasha Nubar, right? Do you think your chief would mind if I had a word with him?”

He wasn't sure; he said he'd have to find out and ring me back, so I gave him my room number. I'd barely hung up the phone when it rang again. This time it was Tareenah Halim. She was pretty upset. “Mr. Stoyles, please. You must…. It is…. Please come.” I was left holding a dead phone.

I showered, dressed, and shaved, and caught a cab to the Halim residence, but when I got there, the house was deserted. It looked like they'd shut the place up and gone away. I rapped on the door but nobody answered, so I knocked a little bit harder, and more people didn't answer. I peered in one of the windows, but couldn't see much besides the dim shapes of the Halims' furniture.

I was about to give up and go away when a woman came out of a neighboring house. “Why are you looking in the Halims' windows,
Engleezhi
?”

“Oh, I'm looking for Mrs. Halim. Have you seen her?”

She shrugged. “I cannot say for certain whether I have seen her or not.”

“Okay.” I held up an Egyptian pound note. “Does that loosen your tongue any?”

She tucked the money away in her robes. “Mrs. Halim and the children were there until late last night, when they suddenly left.”

“Uh-huh.” This was sounding more and more fishy all the time. “What about Mr. Halim?”

“Captain Halim?” She smiled. “Such a noble gentleman, and so very kind to all who know him. I cannot say whether he is gone or not.” She held out her hand, and I put another pound note in it. “He is gone as well. He has been gone for many days.”

“You know where Mrs. Halim and the children might have gone?” Where had Tareenah been when she'd called me? Was she in hiding or was this some kind of a ruse?

“I am sorry. I do not.”

I waited till she left, then let myself in the back door. The inside of the house was cool and dark, and most of the blinds had been drawn over the windows to keep out the fierce heat of the day. Yeah, we used to do the same thing back in Philly when I was a kid: close all the curtains and keep the worst of the heat out, although it made the inside of the house pretty stuffy come the end of the day, but that never mattered to me. I was never inside long enough to care. Either I was playing ball with Frankie, or riding my bike, swimming in the public pool a few blocks over, or getting into trouble with Susie Fitch and her sister, Edith, under the bleachers at the high school football field. Frankie was always up for that sort of thing, always ready to do whatever I wanted to do without complaining. Yeah, Frankie was….

I had to stop thinking about him; I'd grieve for him later when there was time. I couldn't think about him now, propped up in that chair in Jonah Octavian's fancy desert house. It wouldn't have been so bad if he'd looked more natural… if maybe he looked like he was sleeping. You know, people say that sort of thing all the time at funerals and wakes:
he looks real good. Yeah, he looks just like himself.
Because death had the power to change a person's features, make them into someone else entirely.