Mrs. Pollifax Unveiled by Dorothy Gilman

Author:Dorothy Gilman [Gilman, Dorothy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-345-44307-6
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2000-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

10

When she opened her eyes the next morning Mrs. Pollifax saw that Amy had gone and that Farrell was standing over her with a cup of steaming brew. “You slept late, Duchess, I’ve brought you coffee. Very strong coffee, I might add. And young Joe has been telling me how you arrived here, and at what hour and in what condition.”

“I was luckier than you,” she said lightly.

The tent was stifling and she glanced at her watch and was startled to see that it was nine o’clock. “I did sleep late,” she admitted, and sitting up she gratefully accepted the coffee and after two sips made a face. “Very strong—enough to clear the sinuses!” and with a glance at Farrell’s face, “Aside from your black eye, which is turning purple now, how are you feeling?”

“Much restored,” he told her. “Now tell me about this Joe who’s adopted you.”

She laughed. “It’s a long story,” she told him, “but he’s a real archaeologist. He just happens to have a cousin in the CIA who subsidized his getting here three years ago when he was broke—if he’d pass along any news of interest in this part of the country. It’s he who reported the story Bazir Mamoul told one of the men here when he stopped for water. He’s not a pro; he’s never met Omar, but twice a month he goes into Damascus to pick up supplies and chats with Abdul.”

“I’ll forgive him for snoring then,” Farrell said. “It sounds like the two of you have been busy as hell, Duchess.”

“I don’t think hell is connected with busyness,” she said thoughtfully. “Hell is more like boredom, or not having enough to do, and too much time to contemplate one’s deficiencies.”

“Which I was doing all yesterday,” he said. “What on earth possessed you to go back into the desert last night? And what did you find? Do you realize Joe was up practically the entire night laying out pieces of paper and studying them? He refused to explain, too.”

“I’m surprised that he didn’t. We went back to dig more where the passport was found. In the dark. Hoping to find more—and we did, Farrell. Those scraps of paper we brought back seem to be torn out of a journal handwritten in English.”

He thought about this, frowning. “Not quite enough to satisfy the State Department, Duchess. Not enough for them to demand action. We’d have to actually see Amanda Pym, wouldn’t we? To be certain she’s there, and still alive?”

“Oh yes,” she agreed, and was silent, considering this. “The only hope of actually seeing her would appear to be at the privy—everyone there would visit it—although it’s terribly rude to spy on people at such a time.”

“Why?” asked Farrell. “We’re not planning to sell photos of them to a tabloid.” He frowned. “Can you draw me a sketch of the camp as you and Joe saw it on your daylight trip?” Seeing that a lined notebook lay on the table next to Amy’s cot he ripped off a sheet and brought it to her, along with a pencil.

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