“Yes, sirl” said Cox. Wolff groaned inwardly. Now there would be more delay while he got rid of the corporal. Captain Newman’s kindness was becoming a nuisance-could that possibly be intentional? Wolff and Cox got out, and the jeep pulled away. Wolff walked into Nasif’s workshop, and Cox followed, carrying the cases. Nasif was a smiling young man in a Mthy galabiya, working on a car battery by the light of an oil lamp. He spoke to them in English. “You want to rent a beautiful automobile? My brother have Bentley-” Wolff interrupted him in rapid Egyptian Arabic. “My car has broken down. They say you have a tow truck.” “Yes. We can leave right away. Where is the car?” “On the desert road, forty or fifty miles out. Ifs a Ford. But we’re not coming with you.” He took out his wallet and gave Nasif an IRngliab pound note. “You’ll find me at the Grand Hotel by the railway station when you return.” Nasif took the money with alacrity. “Very goodl I leave immediatelyl” Wolff nodded curtly and turned aroand. Walking out of the workshop with Cox in tow, he considered the implications of his short conversation with Nasif. The mechanic would go out into the desert with his tow truck and search the road for the car. Eventually he would return to the Grand Hotel to confess failure. He would learn that Wolff had left. He would consider he had been reasonably paid for his wasted day, but that would not stop him telling all and sundry the story of the disappearing Ford and its disappearing driver. The likelihood was that all this would get back to Captain Newman sooner or later. Newman might not know quite what to make of it all, but he would certainly feel that here was a mystery to be investigated. WoIW& mood darkened as he realized thathis plan of dipping unobserved into Egypt might have failed. He would just have to make the best of it. He looked at his watch. He still had time to catch the train. He would be able to get rid of Cox in the lobby of the hotel, then get something to eat and drink while he was waiting, if he was quick. Cox was a short, dark man with some kind of British regional accent which Wolff could not identify. He looked 16 Ken Follett
about Wolff’s age, and as he was still a corporal he was probably not too bright. Following Wolff across the Midan el-Mahatta, he said: “You know this town, sir?” “I’ve been here before,” Wolff r-plied. They entered the Grand. With twenty-six rooms it was the larger of the town’s two hotels. Wolff turned to Cox. “Thank you, Corporal. I think you could get back to work now.” “No hurry, sir,” Cox said cheerfully. “I’ll carry your bags upstairs.” “I’m sure they have porters here-~’ “Wouldn’t trust ’em, sir, if I were you.” The situation was becoming more and more like a nightmare or a farce, in which vell-intentioned people pushed him into increasingly senseless behavior in consequence of one small lie. He wondered ..,gain whether this was entirely accidental, and it crossed his -nind with terrifying absurdity that perhaps they knew everything and were simply toying with him. He pushed the thought aside and spoke to Cox with as much grace as he could muster. “Well, thank you.” He turned to the desk ind asked for a room. He looked at his watch: he had fifteen minutes left. He filled in the form quickly, giving an invented address in Cairo-there was a chance Captain Newman would forget the true address on the identity papers, and Wolff did not want to leave a reminder. A Nubian porter led them upstairs to the room. Wolff tipped him off at the door. Cox put the cases down on the bed. Wolff took out his wallet: perhaps Cox expected a tip too. “Well, Corporal,” he began, “you’ve been very helpful–2′ “Let me unpack for you, sir,” Cox said. “Captain said not to leave anything to the wogs.” “No, thank you,” Wolff said firmly. “I want to lie down right now.” “You go ahead and lie down,” Cox persisted generously. “It won’t take me-” “Don’t open thatl” Cox was lifting the lid of the case. Wolff reached inside his jacket, thinking Damn the man and Now I’m blown and I should have locked it and Can I do this quietly? The little THE KEY TO REBECCA 17