Everyone keeps telling me that David Barton is not going to turn up at the hotel. I do actually know this, but I have to keep checking. Taking myself for patrols around the hotel, just in case. Even I know that, realistically, it's not the most useful thing I could be doing right now.
I could go and give my weapons another check, but the last time I did, Jonathan actually got down on his knees and begged me to stop. Okay, he didn't get down on his knees, but he did beg. So, here I am – on another patrol.
Only I'm disturbing the other guests, apparently. That's probably because I keep glaring at anyone who looks at me sideways, but I don't give a damn if the guests are being disturbed or not. Disturbing. Yeah, great euphemism for 'scaring the hell out of them'. The snooty guy off the reception desk who got sent over to tell me this isn't looking so snooty right now. He talks softly, but his eyes keep flicking around, like he's looking for an escape route. If he thinks I'm scary, it's a good thing he hasn't seen Ardeth and his pals. I let the guy off the hook and tell him I'm going back to my room – this seems to keep him pretty happy and he practically runs back to his desk.
So, back up the stairs I go.
The truth is, another reason for escaping on my patrol duties is Evelyn. When I don't see her, it's easier to be Rick O'Connell: soldier. When I'm with her, I want to grab her and run. Hunker down somewhere until all of this is over.
But the biggest part of me wants to get hold of David Barton and have a little fun. I keep having very colourful fantasies about how much pain I could inflict on him before he actually dies. Before today, I never would have called myself a vindictive guy. Now I'm not so sure. Despite my death threats to Beni, I've never really believed in violence or killing just for the sake of it. But then I look at Evy's face, at what they did to her, and I feel like grabbing hold of the first guy I see and beating the hell out of him. I don't tell her this because I don't want to upset her, but I figure she's pretty much guessed how I feel about it. She keeps telling me she's fine but I don't really buy it.
I didn't mean to go to Evelyn's room, but that's where my feet have taken me. I have to knock twice before I hear her telling me to come in. Naturally, she hasn't locked the door. I could have been anyone. I'm about to explain this to her, but I get kinda side-tracked because, firstly, she'd not paying much attention and, secondly, she's looking gorgeous.
She's got her nose buried in some book (just for a change) and she's got about three pencils jammed into her hair. If you ever need to write something down in a hurry, Evy's your girl. She barely looks up when I enter – it could be taken as a bad sign if you're being ignored in favour of an old book before you're even married, but I'm kinda used to what Evy's like. The world could be coming to an end, but she'd go on reading. And I'm not going to dwell on the fact that by tomorrow the world could be ending. This is me keeping a positive attitude.
'I've been reading up on some articles by the Bembridge scholars…'
Great. Those guys.
'…But they don't really have much on the Sphinx. You would have thought that someone would have investigated it properly by now, wouldn't you?'
I grunt in reply. I have no useful contribution, so I'll keep my comments to myself. Namely how I don't give a damn who wrote what about a big block of stone, just as long as it doesn't wake up and fry everyone in sight. Especially Evy. And me. And I guess Jonathan.
Evelyn finally raises her head, takes off her glasses and looks at me as though she's seeing me for the first time. It makes we want to kiss her stupid, load her into a car, onto a camel or anything else that moves and get out of here.
'What are you thinking about?'
'About kissing you, loading you onto a camel and getting the hell out of here.' Smooth, O'Connell. Real smooth. She gives me one of her looks.
'You know we can't do that. Don't grunt.'
'I wasn't grunting.'
Even though Evy is the reason I want to leave town, she's also the reason why I can't just walk away from this.
Evelyn Carnahan is the bravest person I know. No question. Like when I burst into that cabin last night. Most girls would have been standing there screeching their heads off. Not my Evy. She gets herself a weapon and nearly splits someone's skull open. And she always knows what is the right thing to do, and she does it. No matter what. Stopping the Lunatic of the Week from taking over the world is the right thing to do. I'm still not exactly sure why it has to be us that do it, but it is, so we're staying.
Jonathan suggested knocking her over the head, dumping her in a trunk and taking the next boat out. It's tempting; but as she's already been kidnapped once this week, it doesn't really seem fair.
And it wouldn't be the right thing to do.
'Rick?'
I realise I've been off in my own world for a moment (or more) and Evy looks worried. It's sweet when she worries about me: she starts fussing and I kinda like it. No-one's ever really worried about me before. 'I was just thinking.'
She smiles. Every time she smiles it's like the whole world stops. 'I've been thinking, too.'
'Hey, now that's a surprise.'
'Ooh!'
The glasses have gone back on. It's become like a game we play – she pretends to get annoyed and then I coax her out of it.
I put my arms around her waist and pull her against me. She leans back against my chest and I get a whiff of her perfume. She's wearing this thin white blouse with most of the top buttons undone. From this angle I get a pretty good view of the creamy expanse of her throat and then the swell of her breasts just below the shirt-collar…
Now is not the time to be having dirty thoughts. But it doesn't make it any easier when she sighs like that. Think about something else. Jonathan snoring. Yeah, that should do it. Jonathan and his camel. Jonathan buying camels and Evy in that sheer black dress…
Okay, so that wasn't the best choice.
Evelyn turns around in my arms and looks up at me. Her glasses have slipped down to the end of her nose. I pull them off and she gives me one of those lopsided smiles of hers.
'Isn't there where you're supposed to tell me that I'm beautiful without my glasses?'
'Baby, you'd be beautiful wearing a potato sack.'
She would, too.
'That was very elegantly put, darling.'
'Hey, if you want grand speeches you better read one of your romance novels.'
She turns very pink.
'Ooh! I do not read romance novels!'
'Actually, Jonathan said…'
And I just remembered that when Jonathan told me that Evy likes those soppy books (when she's not reading the 'raise-people-from-the-dead' books, that is) he also made me promise not to tell her he knew about it.
'Jonathan said what?'
'He, er, he said that… Er, all girls … like romantic novels. Obviously, he was wrong.'
Y'know, that even sounds like something Jonathan might really say.
Evy rolls her eyes. 'My brother the ladies' man. You would have thought that after living with a woman for all this time, he'd actually know something about us.'
She's cute when she's indignant. Especially when she's indignant about something she's done and is trying to pretend that she hasn't. I get hold of her again. Her waist is tiny under my hands.
'Miss Carnahan, you're beautiful without your glasses.'
That has to be about the corniest line I have ever come out with; but it seems to have the desired effect, because neither of us speak for the next few moments.
I let her go in the end and dump myself on the sofa. Evelyn tells me I'm brooding. I tell her I'm not, probably more emphatically than I should, so she sticks her nose back in her book and sulks.
I'm not brooding, I'm just thinking. Okay, I'm worrying. Tomorrow morning we go up against a crazy would-be ruler of the world, possibly a god and, potentially, the army of the undead (because that was so much fun the last time).
And then we have the good guys.
Evy can handle herself pretty well – she's a lot stronger than she looks. But even so, she's not exactly an Amazon.
As for Jonathan… Well, if you're scared of sarcasm, then he's absolutely terrifying, but apart from that… He is a good shot, though. At least, that's what he tells me. If it wasn't for Ardeth and his gang, I'd be seriously worried right about now.
Our plan, such as it is, is to watch and wait. After the hours of sitting and discussing what we should do, we all had to accept the fact that our options are extremely limited.
And when I say, 'extremely limited', what I mean is that we have no options. Nothing, nada, zip.
All we know is that tomorrow at sunrise, David Barton will in the vicinity of the Sphinx.
At least, we assume he'll be in the vicinity of the Sphinx. If his little ritual means that you've got to be in Karnak in order to wake up a demon in Giza, then we are in serious trouble.
But I'm going to look on what is – I guess – the bright side and assume that he'll be where we think he'll be.
And that 'we' includes Evy.
'You know how to fire a gun, don't you?'
She looks at me like I've gone crazy.
'Of course I know how to fire a gun.' Her hands start fidgeting with the pages and she moves almost to the other side of the room. 'What a ridiculous… Why on earth are you asking that?'
'Because I need to make sure that you know how to defend yourself.' I pull out a gun and she flinches. 'Show me.'
'My father taught me, Rick. You can take my word for it.'
I know she doesn't like guns, but I'm not backing down on this one. Otherwise I really will knock her over the head.
'Quit stalling, Evy. If you know how to use this, show me.'
She puts her book down, folds her arms and glares at me.
Oh boy. The battle of wills. I'm not gonna start threatening her or coaxing her because that's just treating her like an idiot, which she isn't. Evelyn needs to understand that I am serious about this.
'Evy, listen to me. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. We can guess what we're gonna face, but we don't know.'
She doesn't say anything, which either means that she's listening, or is about take my head off in the next ten seconds. I keep going.
'I can't be sure that someone will be with you the whole time. And if there isn't, you need to be able to protect yourself. If not, you could be killed, or someone else could be killed trying to save you.'
Her head jerks. 'That isn't fair,' she says softly.
'Maybe not, but it's also true. Now come here.'
It was a low blow, but we don't have the time for me to start feeling bad about it. At least it's got Evelyn back across the room and she takes the gun from me.
Her fingers fumble over the catch at first, but she knows what she's doing. I adjust the position of her hands and then make sure she can take aim properly. Her body is rigid, but she does everything I tell her. I think this is the longest I've ever heard her silent.
I tell her to keep the gun when she tries to give it back to me. I half-expect her to put it in a drawer or something, but she puts it on top of her books.
'I don't want to kill anyone, Rick,' she says eventually. 'But I don't want you to worry. If it comes to it, I'll do what I have to. And I won't miss.'
Her eyes are hard for a moment and then she looks down at the floor again.
'I may not be an explorer, or an adventurer, or a treasure-seeker, or a gunfighter, Mister O'Connell...'
'You never really wanted this life, did you? All of this, I mean - guns and stuff.'
She frowns over this for a while. 'Isn't it the life you wanted?'
I shrug. 'It's the life I ended up with.'
'But you were a soldier.'
'I wasn't always a soldier. I ran away from home and joined the circus.'
Evy goes all stiff and turns away. 'Well, if you're going to be like that...'
I can't help but laugh. 'I'm not being like anything, honey. I left home and in the next town there was a travelling circus, so I joined it.'
'Really?'
'Straight up.'
She stares at me and then her lips start to twitch.
'What?'
'I-I'm just trying to imagine you...' She's giggling so hard she's turned pink. '...With a red n-nose and ... big feet!'
'I was not a clown, Evy.'
She's almost crying with laughter. I guess I could feel offended, but I'd rather see her laughing than upset. And I guess it's more from tension than actually laughing at me. I prefer to think it's that, anyway.
'There were no cream pies in my face, I can tell you. I did a bit of acrobatics and I did some stuff with a snake-charmer.'
That stops her laughing.
'Snakes are terribly poisonous, Rick. They can kill you.'
I grin at her. 'Only if they bite you. Throw a snake my way and I'll charm the fangs off it.'
Evy makes a face. 'Lovely. But... But didn't you enjoy being a soldier?'
Great, we're back to that. We've never really had this conversation before and I don't want to have it now; but Evelyn's asked the question, so I might as well just tell her.
Did I enjoy being a soldier? Being ordered around by officers who were either too stupid or too scared to do their jobs properly; fighting people I didn't know for reasons I didn't understand; endless marching across the desert; food you wouldn't give a camel...
'No, I didn't.'
'Then why did you join the army?'
Again, I shrug. 'I was desperate and starving. I was practically living on the street. Then I met some guy who was recruiting for the Legion - he promised a bowl of stew if I joined up. I got the stew and they even threw in a bit of bread, so I thought it was a pretty good deal at the time.'
Her eyes are wide. 'That's awful!'
Evelyn faces up to so much I forget how little she's seen of the world. My story is no worse than a lot of other people's, but Evy's looking at me like it's the worst thing she's ever heard.
'That's just the way it was. And now it's over.' It all seems so long ago now that I hardly remember how things used to be. These days I actually have a future worth fighting for.
'But don't you still want adventures?' She looks like she's got some nightmare image of me with my feet up, a cardigan and a pipe.
'I'm marrying you, aren't I?'
Her eyes narrow. 'Oooh!'
Okay, I deserved that one. But if you ask a dumb question...
The sun is low in the sky, the shadows are lengthening across the floor and pretty soon the muezzin will start the calls from the minarets. Which means it's time for us to get going.
'I'm gonna go get Jonathan.'
'Rick, promise me something.'
I wait. 'Yeah?'
'You will be careful, won't you?'
'Honey, it's just Jonathan - unless I have to fight him for a whisky bottle, I think I'll be okay.'
She clucks at me. Evy really hates it if you tease her when she's trying to be serious. Evelyn Carnahan, the living, breathing eye of the storm, asking me to be careful. 'You know what I mean. If you let anything happen to you, I swear I'll bloody kill you myself.'
'And to think that's the mouth you kiss me with.'
'You said far worse to me the first time we met.'
'Hey, I was about to be hanged – I was allowed,' I protest. I get one of her looks again – another thing I'll have to get used to. 'Okay, okay, I promise. Happy now?'
Apparently not.
'Well you needn't sound so enthusiastic about it! Oh, just go and find Jonathan.'
I close the door and leave her fuming on the other side.
Women! Can't live with them… That pretty much covers it.
I find Jonathan in our room, drinking something out of a cup. He takes one look at me and smirks.
'I'd suggest a cup of tea, old boy.'
I take the cup he holds out to me and drink it. 'Jeez, what the hell is that?'
'Tea.'
I've never actually drunk dishwater, but I'll bet that it tastes exactly like that. Why anyone would drink it for fun is beyond me. 'I thought when you said 'tea', it was just a disguise for something else.'
'Oh no. For this particular enterprise, one needs a clear head. And I'll have you know that the British Empire has been built on the restorative properties of tea. It is our national drink.'
He raises his cup and I expect him to burst into song. Thankfully, he just drains whatever was left.
'National drink, huh? That could explain a lot.'
He mutters something that sounds like 'Damn Yanks'. As I've just done ten rounds with his sister, I don't call him on it.
'So, you ready to save the world, Jon buddy?'
He grimaces and I swear he goes pale under his tan. 'God, ready as I'll ever bloody be. You know, Rick, I'm sure that you don't really need me hanging about tomorrow. I'd just be in the-'
'You're coming.'
'Yes, of course.'
From somewhere across the city, the first call goes up from a minaret.