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 stiff have my boxr’ “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 330 Ken Follett
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. “Mose 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 1.11 Elene shuddered. Wolff got into the car. “Assyut,” he said. Vandarn held out his hand, palm upward, and Wolff dropped the key in it. Vandam started the car and turned it around. Tley went along the wadi, past the well, and turned onto the road. Dene 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 imallest 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.” Vandarn 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 THE KEY TO REBECCA 331