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Back Night Train to Memphis Save as PDF
Chapters (16)
  1. Acknowledgments
  2. Chapter One
  3. Chapter Two
  4. Chapter Three
  5. Chapter Four
  6. Chapter Five
  7. Chapter Six
  8. Chapter Seven
  9. Chapter Eight
  10. Chapter Nine
  11. Chapter Ten
  12. Chapter Eleven
  13. Chapter Twelve
  14. Chapter Thirteen
  15. Chapter Fourteen
  16. Chapter Fifteen

I tried to keep my voice steady, but I didn’t succeed. Larry looked startled. ‘Why, Vicky, I had no idea. Is that what was bothering you when we were in the royal tomb at Amarna? I thought you looked . . . We’ll go back. I don’t have to do this.’

‘No, you go ahead. I’ll wait for you here.’

‘If you’re sure . . .’ His head sank down out of sight.

I thought the scream, high and piercing as a bird’s call, had come from Larry until he echoed it. His startled cry was followed by a rattle and a crash. The lights went out.

There was daylight behind me, only thirty feet away – a bright, heavenly square of brightness. I could crawl up the ramp . . . and leave Larry down below in the dark. The ladder must have broken. He had fallen from it – how far? I heard a faint groan. It died into silence.

Did I mention that I shared that tunnel under the Schloss in Rothenburg with two other people, both of them injured? One of them was Tony, once my Significant Other, still my cherished friend. The groan from the darkness shot me back into the past, and for a few horrible moments I lost track of where I was and when I was. I thought it was Tony down there, unconscious, gasping for breath. I had to go to him, help him . . .

I didn’t. I couldn’t. I rolled myself into a ball like a reluctant foetus and when the daylight behind me was blotted out I started to whimper.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I

HANDS TOOK HOLD of me and tried to unwind me. I fought them frantically until it dawned on me that there was something familiar about that grip. ‘Tony,’ I croaked. ‘Oh, Tony, damn it, I thought you were – ’

He slapped me, hard. After my head had settled back onto my neck I squinted up at him. It wasn’t Tony. Of course it wasn’t. Tony was in Chicago, not in that filthy tunnel under the Schloss. Neither was I. I was in Egypt in a filthy tunnel in a tomb,with . . .

‘You bastard,’ I said feebly.

‘How pitifully inadequate.’ John hauled me to my feet and propped me against the wall, out of his way. Leaning over the shaft he called, ‘Blenkiron! Speak up, don’t be shy.’

The voice echoed hollowly. ‘I’m okay. You’ll have to get a rope. The ladder . . .’

‘Hang on.’

‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded.