THE KEY TO REBECCA BY KEN FOLLETT

suspected a trap, why did he come at all? No, it had to be more complex than that. He seemed to have believed her about the man on the running board-but she could not be sure what was going on behind his smile. She said: “Where are we going?” “A few miles out of town, to a little spot on the riverbank where we can watch the sun go down. It’s going to be a lovely evening.” “I don’t want to go.” ‘T,Fhat’s the matter?” “I hardly know you.” “Don’t be silly. The driver will be with us all the timeand I’m a gentleman.” “I should get out of the car.” “Please don’t.” He touched her arm lightly. “I have some smoked salmon, and a cold chicken, and a bottle of champagne. I get so bored with restaurants.” Elene considered. She could leave him now, and she would be safe-she would never see him again. That was what she wanted, to get away from the man forever. She thought: But I’m Vandam’s only hope. What do I care for Vandam? I’d be happy never to see him again, and go back to the old peaceful life- The old life. She did care for Vandam, she realized; at least enough for her to hate the thought of letting him down. She had to stay with Wolff, cultivate him, angle for another date, try to find out where he lived. Impulsively she said: “Let’s go to your place.” He raised his eyebrows. “nat’s a sudden change of heart.” She realized she had made a mistake. “I’m confused,” she said. “You sprung a surprise on me. Why didn’t you ask me first?” “I only thought of the idea an hour ago. It didn~t occur to me that it might scare you.” Elene realized that she was, unintentionally, fulfilling her role as a dizzy girl. She decided not to overplay her hand. “All right,” she said. She tried to relax. Wolff was studying her. He said: “Yoxfre not quite as vulnerable as you seem, are you?” “I don’t know.” 188 Ken Follett

“I remember what you said to Aristopoulos, that first day I saw you in the shop.” Elene remembered: she had threatened to cut off Mikis’ cock if he touched her again. She should have blushed, but she could not do so voluntarily. “I was so angry,” she said. Wolff chuckled. “You sounded it,” he said. “Try to bear in mind that I am not Aristopoulos.” She gave him a weak smile. “Okay.” He turned his attention to the driver. They were out of the city, and Wolff began to give directions. Elene wondered where he bad found this taxi: by Egyptian standards it was luxurious. It was some kind of American car, with big soft seats and lots of room, and it seemed only a few years old. They passed through a series of villages, then turned on to an unmade road. The car followed the winding track up a small hill and emerged on a little plateau atop a bluff. The river was immediately below them, and on its far side Elene could see the neat patchwork of cultivated fields stretching into the distance until they met the sharp tan-colored line of the edge of the desert. Wolff said: “Isn’t this a lovely spotT’ Elene had to agree. A flight of swifts rising from the far bank of the river drew her eye upward, and she saw that the evening clouds were already edged in pink. A young girl was walking away from the river with a huge water jug on her head. A lone felucca sailed upstream, propelled by a light breeze. The driver got out of the car and walked fifty yards away. He sat down, pointedly turning his back on them, lit a cigarette and unfolded a newspaper. Wolff got a picnic hamper out of the trunk and set it on the floor of the car between them. As he began to unpack the food, Elene asked him: “How did you discover this place?” “My mother brought me here when I was a boy.” He handed her a glass of wine. “After my father died, my mother married an Egyptian. From time to time she would find the Muslim household oppressive, so she would bring me here in a gharry and tell me about … Europe, and so on.” “Did you enjoy it?” He hesitated. “My mother had a way of spoiling things like that. She was always interrupting the fun. She used to say: THE KEY TO REBECCA 189

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