might as well have a look at our own files while you’re about it.”
“Hmm…”
Carpenter baulked a little. Egyptian Police records were one thing – British Embassy files were quite another.
“That’s a bit more tricky – but I’ll see what I can do. Do you want to give me the details?”
Blake extracted Reda’s business card from his wallet and held it out beneath the light of the bedside lamp.
“Here you go. The name is Reda Eldasouky. I’ll spell that for you.” He slowly read out the letters. However helpful he might sound, Carpenter was not renowned for the accuracy of his work. “He’s probably registered in the Cairo area so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Ok, I’ve got it – Reda Eldasouky. Is it anyone I should recognise?”
“Not as far as I’m aware. That’s the point – I need to find out.”
“Alright. So what’s the timescale on this?”
“Well, as soon as you can really.”
Blake was anxious to come to a conclusion for a number of reasons, not least of which was the safety of the passengers and the crew. If Reda had ‘history’ of any kind, he would want to know about it as soon as he could.
“Right. Well, as you can imagine, there’s not a lot going on here at the moment so I’ll get cracking on it straight away. I tell you what – why don’t you call me back at home this evening? You’ve got my number. Probably better than ringing the Embassy again.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. Anything else to report?”
“Well, now that you’ve asked…”
Carpenter launched into a long and protracted description of the latest game of cricket being played in Australia. If Blake’s ‘passion’ was birding, then Carpenter’s was definitely cricket. On match days he would bring his radio into the office and give a running commentary on the score. He seemed to get more calls on the subject than he did about work. Why he thought Blake would be interested was a mystery, but still. After two or threeminutes he rounded off his talk and finished with an incidental piece of news just as though it were of no consequence at all.
“…but I’d much rather have the Ashes, thank you very much, and at least they’re in the bag. Oh, and by the way, speaking of ashes, some silly sod set himself on fire in front of the Parliament building the other day.”
“Yes, I saw that.” It had been headline news a day or so before Blake had left for his trip but he’d yet to catch up with the details. “What was that all about?”
“God knows. The usual, I expect – dissent amongst the masses and so on. Nobody thinks it’s going to come to anything anyway. Other than that it’s been as dull as ditchwater, I’m afraid.”
“Ok. Well, I’ll call you back later on this evening then.”
“Yes, do that. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you to your band of dusky maidens.”
“I wish…”
A picture came into Blake’s mind, but it was not the lithe athletic figure of Lee Yong that lay next to him on his imaginary barge but the plump and shapeless form of Mrs Biltmore. He shuddered and moved quickly on.
“Thanks, Alan. I’ll speak to you later. Bye…”
“Bye…”
He shut off his phone and returned it to the drawer of the bedside table.
Earlier on, in order to make himself heard, he’d turned off the noisy hum of the air-conditioning and the room had grown warm and drowsy. He let out a yawn and consulted his watch. Three o’clock. He wondered whether it was worthwhile going back on deck. There would be nothing to see in the way of birds – at this time of day they would all be resting out of the sun, just like the passengers. He decided he could afford to join them and lay back on the bed with his eyes closed.
Carpenter would take care of things now, Carpenter could be trusted. What harm could there be if he dropped off for an hour?At least there was no gala dinner he had to look out for.
This time it was the need to visit the bathroom that roused him. He made himself
“Hmm…”
Carpenter baulked a little. Egyptian Police records were one thing – British Embassy files were quite another.
“That’s a bit more tricky – but I’ll see what I can do. Do you want to give me the details?”
Blake extracted Reda’s business card from his wallet and held it out beneath the light of the bedside lamp.
“Here you go. The name is Reda Eldasouky. I’ll spell that for you.” He slowly read out the letters. However helpful he might sound, Carpenter was not renowned for the accuracy of his work. “He’s probably registered in the Cairo area so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Ok, I’ve got it – Reda Eldasouky. Is it anyone I should recognise?”
“Not as far as I’m aware. That’s the point – I need to find out.”
“Alright. So what’s the timescale on this?”
“Well, as soon as you can really.”
Blake was anxious to come to a conclusion for a number of reasons, not least of which was the safety of the passengers and the crew. If Reda had ‘history’ of any kind, he would want to know about it as soon as he could.
“Right. Well, as you can imagine, there’s not a lot going on here at the moment so I’ll get cracking on it straight away. I tell you what – why don’t you call me back at home this evening? You’ve got my number. Probably better than ringing the Embassy again.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. Anything else to report?”
“Well, now that you’ve asked…”
Carpenter launched into a long and protracted description of the latest game of cricket being played in Australia. If Blake’s ‘passion’ was birding, then Carpenter’s was definitely cricket. On match days he would bring his radio into the office and give a running commentary on the score. He seemed to get more calls on the subject than he did about work. Why he thought Blake would be interested was a mystery, but still. After two or threeminutes he rounded off his talk and finished with an incidental piece of news just as though it were of no consequence at all.
“…but I’d much rather have the Ashes, thank you very much, and at least they’re in the bag. Oh, and by the way, speaking of ashes, some silly sod set himself on fire in front of the Parliament building the other day.”
“Yes, I saw that.” It had been headline news a day or so before Blake had left for his trip but he’d yet to catch up with the details. “What was that all about?”
“God knows. The usual, I expect – dissent amongst the masses and so on. Nobody thinks it’s going to come to anything anyway. Other than that it’s been as dull as ditchwater, I’m afraid.”
“Ok. Well, I’ll call you back later on this evening then.”
“Yes, do that. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you to your band of dusky maidens.”
“I wish…”
A picture came into Blake’s mind, but it was not the lithe athletic figure of Lee Yong that lay next to him on his imaginary barge but the plump and shapeless form of Mrs Biltmore. He shuddered and moved quickly on.
“Thanks, Alan. I’ll speak to you later. Bye…”
“Bye…”
He shut off his phone and returned it to the drawer of the bedside table.
Earlier on, in order to make himself heard, he’d turned off the noisy hum of the air-conditioning and the room had grown warm and drowsy. He let out a yawn and consulted his watch. Three o’clock. He wondered whether it was worthwhile going back on deck. There would be nothing to see in the way of birds – at this time of day they would all be resting out of the sun, just like the passengers. He decided he could afford to join them and lay back on the bed with his eyes closed.
Carpenter would take care of things now, Carpenter could be trusted. What harm could there be if he dropped off for an hour?At least there was no gala dinner he had to look out for.
This time it was the need to visit the bathroom that roused him. He made himself
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