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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] She pointed to the white one disappearing beyond a larger and more modern blue job. Mike groaned but thanked her. The cab driver was yelling at him about paying. Mike suppressed an urge to tell him to "follow that boat." He shoved the money at the man and asked him in Turkish Arabic where he could hire a boat. Boats everywhere, but would any of them take him where he wanted to go? Too bad he hadn't thought to have Gabriella prepay for the hotel room, but it had seemed unimportant at the time, in the heat of the moment as it were. His funds were dwindling rapidly, and he expected the hire of the felucca he needed to catch up with the cruise boat would take a lot of what he had left. The cabbie waved vaguely farther down the shore and drove off. Beyond the big pleasure boats, Mike finally found a makeshift fleet of the small traditional sailboats, the like of which had been plying the Nile since ancient times. One of the captains waved him over. He was a large white-haired, white-bearded fellow with a blue baseball cap and a turquoise shirt, unusual among the sailors there, who mostly wore the white djellabas for the sake of the tourist trade, though some who were working on their boats were bare-chested. 'You wish a river trip, effendi?" 'Yes. Do you see that boat way down the river there?" 'I can see that boat very well, effendi. My boat is not like that boat." 'I know. But can your boat catch up with that one? I want to board it. I have some business with the people on it." The man whose white teeth bore a striking gold accent when he smiled ingratiatingly, said, "One can but try, effendi." 'How much?" 'It depends upon the length of the trip, effendi. Get in. If we are to reach your friends, we must start now." Mike was a little surprised the man didn't insist on being paid in advance but did as he was told. There was a good breeze on the river, and the sails caught it readily. The white-haired guy was a good sailor, but, try as they might, the felucca never quite caught up with the cruise boat. The sun set. The boatman stopped tacking, as he had been doing all afternoon, and made for the west bank. 'Why are we stopping?" Mike asked. "There's a full moon. We could catch up to them when they dock for the night." 'There is no need for such haste, effendi. They will sleep very late in the morning, and we will catch up to them then. It is forbidden to sail after sunset. But as you see, we have sleeping bags and very delicious foods with us. Soon the other passengers will join us, and we will have camping out just like your Boy Scouts. That will be a good thing and very much fun for everyone, yes?" Mike reached for his wallet to offer baksheesh then realized that he probably didn't have enough to make up the standard fee, much less extra, unless he could borrow from Gabriella once he reached the cruiser. He didn't much care for the idea of doing that, but when he found the treasure, they would share it, so he could pay her back that way. He thought they might be sharing quite a few things in days to come. Most of all they'd be sharing their inner extra selves with each other, but it went further than that, though he didn't wish to reflect on it too deeply for the time being. "Cheer up, son, this will be like it was when I was campaigning. Just us and the stars, the stench of death, and the eyes of the jackals in the darkness beyond the campfire." "You really are a romantic, aren't you, General?" The boatman tied the little boat to a small homemade dock, a short wooden extension beyond the stone-walled riverbank. Once ashore, the men built a fire with some of the suspicious- looking fuel the boatman had on hand and arranged sleeping bags beside it. Other than the dock, the place was less inhabited than any he had seen that day. The other boats had disappeared, apparently each tied up elsewhere. They were probably lucky to have this spot to themselves. But it seemed funny that nobody at all was there, not even the flocks of ragged kids who would normally swamp any tourist with sacks full of trinkets, clothing, "really authentic artifact from tomb of King Tut, mister," and other such goods. Maybe a couple of miles away was the outline of a small village, lamps glowing like lightning bugs in the night. Since the dams were built, more of the villages now had electricity. That was probably where the kids were. Home watching satellite TV or doing their homework on computers. No sooner had the boatman begun boiling water, however, than company at last came calling. The twilight was long, and Mike could make out that everyone coming toward them seemed to be walking on two legs except for one, a dog, which barked impatiently and was the first to reach the fire. The shapes looked strange in the dying light, the heads seeming larger than they needed to be, the shadows thrown across the ground by the moon grotesquely elongated and more active than they should have been, since the people who cast them seemed to walk sedately enough. 'Ah, the other passengers arrive," the boatman said. 'What other passengers?" 'The other passengers who also wish to board the fine boat you seek, effendi." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |