He Shall Thunder in the Sky (45 page)

     “Enough of that.”

     “I beg your pardon. So, knowing your inveterate habit of rushing into action without stopping to consider the possible consequences, I fancied you would drop by today. I was all the more certain after I learned, from sources that shall be nameless, that your husband had gone off into the Eastern Desert looking for ruins. Or so he claimed. What’s he after, really?”

     I allowed my lips to curve into an ironic smile. “You don’t suppose you can trap me into a damaging admission, do you? There is nothing to admit. Emerson is an archaeologist, not some sort of spy.”

     “And your son?”

     The expression in those chameleon eyes made a shiver run through me. I concealed my alarm with a little chuckle. “How absurd. Ramses’s views about the war are well known. They must be known to you as well.”

     “I know a great deal about that young man. So do others. The individuals in question are in some doubt as to the genuineness of his opinions.”

     “Individual, you mean,” I said. “You are referring to yourself, are you not? A man in your vile profession suspects everyone of double-dealing.”

     The insult struck home. His face hardened and his form stiffened. “I serve my present employers faithfully. You may not approve my methods, but you are hardly in a position to criticize them.”

     “What do you mean?” I cried in terror.

     “Why . . . only that you would do the same had you my qualifications. Fortunately, you don’t; but if you did, you would not hesitate to risk not only life but the appearance of honor.”

     “I don’t understand.”

     But I did understand, and I felt sick with fear and dismay. He was working for the enemy and he was warning me that his “employers,” as he was pleased to call them, were suspicious of Ramses. Those sneering references to the hazarding of life and the appearance of honor described my son’s masquerade only too accurately. Sethos had once promised me that none of those I loved would come to harm through him; the oblique warning was his perverse way of keeping that promise.

     I reached into the bag at my feet, and saw him stiffen, his eyes following the movement of my hand, his body taut as a coiled spring, and I knew that I had made a fatal error. I had believed that he was guilty of nothing more despicable than dealing in illegal antiquities, and I had counted upon . . . I felt my cheeks grow warm with shame. Yes, I had counted upon that fondness he claimed to feel for me; I had intended to use it in order to induce him to do my bidding. What a fool I had been! He was worse than a thief, he was a spy and a traitor, and I dared not risk his escaping me now, not when my son’s life might depend on what he knew. I could not overpower him. I could not bind him or handcuff him unless I rendered him unconscious first, and I doubted he would be obliging enough to turn his back so I could strike him senseless. That left the pistol as my only recourse. But what if I missed, or only wounded him with the first shot? I knew his strength and his quickness; anticipating an attack, as he clearly was, he could be upon me before I extracted the weapon and aimed it. Yes, I had been a fool, but I might yet outwit him.

     I picked up the bag and rose to my feet. Sethos’s taut muscles relaxed. He smiled amiably at me.

     “Leaving so soon? Without getting answers to your other questions?”

     “Why, yes.” I took hold of the parasol and edged round the table. “We seem to have reached an impasse. I cannot force you to accompany me, and I am willing to accept your word that you will leave Cairo at once. Good-bye, and — er — thank you for the tea.”

     “Your manners are impeccable!” Sethos laughed. “But I fear you cannot leave just yet.”

     He came toward me, with that light, lithe step I knew so well. I backed away. “You said you would not keep me here.”

     “Not indefinitely, I said. But my dear, you don’t suppose I am going to let you go scurrying off to the police? It will take me a few hours to complete the preparations for my departure. Resign yourself to waiting a while. I promise you won’t be uncomfortable, and I will take steps to have you released once I am safely on my way.”

     I raised my parasol. With a sudden sweep of his arm Sethos knocked it out of my hand.

     “You drugged the tea,” I gasped, as he reached for me.

     “No. If your hands were unsteady, it must have been for another reason.” He held me in the circle of his arm and pulled me close. The other hand came to rest on my cheek. “Do you remember my telling you once about a certain nerve just behind the ear?”

     “Yes. Do it, then! Render me instantly and painlessly unconscious, as you threatened, you — you cad!”

     He laughed his soundless laugh. “Oh, my dearest Amelia, I haven’t even begun to be a cad. Shall I?”

     His long hard fingers slid through my hair and tilted my head back. His face was only a few inches from mine. I peered intently into that enigmatic countenance. His eyes were gray, with just a hint of green. I thought I detected a faint line along the bridge of his nose, where some substance had been added to fill out the shape of that member. His long flexible lips were not quite so thin as they seemed. . . .

     They closed in a hard line, and the arm that held me tightened painfully. “For God’s sake, Amelia, the least you can do is pay attention when I am trying to decide whether to take advantage of you! After all, why should I not? How many times have you been in my power, and how often have I dared to do so much as kiss your hands? I have never loved another woman but you. These are perilous times; I may never see you again. What is to stop me from doing what I have always yearned to do?”

     I couldn’t think of anything either.

     “Er — your sense of honor?” I suggested.

     “According to you, I have none,” Sethos said bitterly. “And don’t think that tears will deter me from my purpose!”

     “I have no intention of weeping.”

     “No, you wouldn’t. That is one of the reasons why I love you so much.” His lips came lightly to rest on mine. I felt him tremble; then he clasped me tightly to him and captured my mouth in a hard, passionate kiss.

     I struggled, of course. Dignity and my duty to my adored spouse demanded no less. In practical terms it was a wasted effort. Those strong arms held me as easily as if I had been a child. His lips moved to my cheek, and as I gasped for air he whispered, “Don’t fight me, Amelia, you will only hurt yourself, and resistance brings out the worst in men of my evil temperament. I refuse to be held wholly accountable for my actions if you continue. There. That is much better. . . .”

     Again his mouth covered mine.

     I could not have said how long that burning kiss went on. I did not feel the touch that deprived me of consciousness.

     When I came to my senses I felt as if I had woken from a restful sleep — pleasantly relaxed and comfortable. Then I remembered. I sat up with a muffled shriek and glared wildly at my surroundings.

     I was alone. The room was dark except for the glow of a single lamp. It was a bedchamber. The couch on which I had reposed was soft, piled with cushions and draped with silken hangings of azure and silver. Typical of the Count, and also of Sethos; he had luxurious tastes. On a table beside the bed was a crystal carafe of water, a silver cup, and . . . and . . . a plate of cucumber sandwiches! They were curling at the edges. The manservant might at least have covered them with a damp napkin. But then, I mused, he probably had more urgent duties.

     Reflection and investigation (I believe I need not go into detail) persuaded me that Sethos’s attentions had not gone beyond those long, ardent kisses. They were quite enough, as Emerson would certainly agree when I told him. . . . If I told him.

     My immediate concern was escape. The door was locked, of course. I had expected that. The windows were covered with shutters that had been made fast by some mechanism I could not locate. My watch informed me that several hours had passed since I entered the flat. It was getting on for seven o’clock. Upon investigating my handbag, which had been placed beside me on the couch, I discovered that the handcuffs, the rope, the scissors, and the pistol were missing. The bureau had been swept clean; the drawers had been emptied of their contents (whatever those might have been) and the top was bare of toilet articles. There was nothing in the room that could serve as a weapon or a lockpick.

     I removed a hairpin from my untidy coiffure and knelt before the lock.

     As I had discovered on an earlier occasion, hairpins are not of much use for picking a lock. However, with my ear close to the door I was able to make out sounds from the room beyond — hurrying footsteps, the movement of a heavy object being dragged across the floor, an occasional brusque order in that familiar, detestable voice. Clearly Sethos was completing his preparations for departure. The final command made this definite. “Bring the carriage round and start carrying the luggage down.”

     Footsteps approached the door behind which I knelt. Would he open it? Would he wish to bid me another, final farewell — or finish the dastardly deed he had threatened? My heart was pounding as I rose to my feet, prepared to resist to the last of my strength.

     All I heard was a long, deep sigh. The footsteps moved away.

     I was still standing by the door, my hand pressed to my breast, when a cry from Sethos made me jump. “What the devil —” A door slammed, the servant screamed, and Sethos began to laugh.

     “Bit you, did she? Here, let me have her. Now, my dear, there is no need for all this exhausting activity; she is safe and unharmed and if you behave yourself I will allow you to keep one another company while I complete the preparations you so rudely interrupted. If you don’t, I will lock you in a dark cupboard with the mops and brooms and black beetles. Good. I see you are susceptible to reason. Hamza, unlock the door. Amelia, stand back; I know you have your ear pressed to the panel, and I am running short of time.”

     It was as well I obeyed. The door flew open and I saw — as I had known I would — my daughter and my dread adversary. One arm pinned her arms to her sides and held her firmly; the other hand covered her mouth. Her hair was coming down and her eyes shone with fury but she had had the sense to stop struggling.

     “It would be a waste of breath to scream or swear, Miss Forth,” Sethos said, propelling her into the room. “Do so if it will relieve your feelings, but first give me the knife I feel certain you have concealed about your person. The alternative would be for me to search you, and I will not take that liberty unless you force me to. Amelia would not approve.”

     He removed his hand from her mouth, leaving the marks of his fingers imprinted on her cheek. She swallowed, and I said quickly, “Give him the knife, Nefret. This is not the time for heroics or temper.”

     Her eyes moved from me to Sethos, who had backed off a step, and then to the manservant. She was calculating the odds, and admitting they were against us. She reached into a side pocket of her skirt. Set into the seam, it was open at the back, giving her access to the knife strapped to her lower limb. Slowly she withdrew it, hesitated, and then passed it into Sethos’s poised, waiting hand.

     “How did you know I was here?” I demanded. “And why were you foolish enough to come alone, as I presume you —”

     “Forgive me,” Sethos interrupted. “You can chat after I have gone. I am in something of a hurry, but so long as I am here . . .”

     He took a step toward me, and then stopped and looked quizzically at Nefret. “Turn your back, Miss Forth.”

     Nefret’s eyes widened. “Do it,” I said, through clenched teeth. She spun round.

     I might have evaded him for a short time; but how undignified, how humiliating would have been that frantic and futile flight, with Sethos close on my heels and his long arms ready to seize me! He would probably be laughing. It would end the same, whatever I did. Better by far to submit and get it over.

     So once again I felt his arms close round me and his lips explore mine. For a man who claimed to be in a hurry, he took his time about it. When he let me go I would have fallen — being off balance — had he not lowered me gently onto the foot of the couch.

     “Good-bye, Amelia,” he said quietly. “And you, my dear Miss Forth . . .”

     He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Her face was flushed and her lips were parted. He laughed and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

     “Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever. Particularly at the present time. Amelia, remember what I told you.”

     The door slammed and the key turned in the lock.

     Nefret groped for a chair and lowered herself into it. “What did he mean?”

     “Mean by what? The villain specializes in being enigmatic. My dear, did that man hurt you?”

     “No.” Nefret rubbed her arm. “He humiliated me, which is even worse. I was waiting on the landing, trying to decide whether to ring or not, when he came out and caught hold of me. Oh, Aunt Amelia, I am sorry, but I didn’t know what to do! When I came back from the hospital you were all gone, all three of you, and it got darker and darker, and later and later, and there was no sign of them and no word, and I didn’t know where to start looking for them, but I did have a fairly good idea as to where you might have gone, because I suspected you had lied to me about the Count, and I couldn’t stand waiting any longer, so . . . I’m sorry!”

     “They had not returned by the time you left?”

     “No. Something has happened.”

     “Nonsense,” I said firmly. “I can think of a dozen harmless reasons why they might have been delayed. Emerson is easily distracted by ruins. Never mind that now, we cannot do anything about it until we get out of here. Have you any object on your person that we might use to pick the lock or break open a shutter?”

     “I had only my knife. You saw what happened to that.”

     I stood up and began pacing. “Let us consider the situation rationally. We will be freed eventually; I left a message for Emerson, telling him where I had gone, and —”