Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (20 page)

you were dying. We all thought so." "As you see, I was not obliging enough to finish the process. How did you know I was still alive and in Luxor?" "I wasn't certain," Ramses admitted. "But those artistic symbols you carved outside various tombs were new, and the incident in the West Valley had your trademark. It was well planned." "Good of you to say so. If that's all-" "No, it isn't all. How many people are aware of the fact that you are still alive?" The other man's face didn't change. There was a brief pause before he replied. "Aside from Kitchener and General Maxwell- and you? What about your father?" "He suspects, I think. Mother doesn't." "Are you going to tell them?" "That depends," Ramses said, savoring a brief--and, as he was soon to discover, illusory-feeling of power. "Would you prefer that I didn't tell them?" "Yes, I would. But if you are thinking of using that threat to blackmail me into doing something I don't want to do, dismiss the idea. I don't care that much. It's just that my life would be a good deal simpler without Amelia trailing me all over Luxor trying to catch me and reform me. Can you imagine the trouble she'd get herself into?" Ramses could. Damn the man. Sethos had seen the trap and stepped neatly over it. "Get back to the point," he said harshly. "Point? Oh, you mean is there anyone out for my blood at the moment?" He spoke slowly, thinking aloud. "When they carted me away that night, the only people who knew I was working for the department thought I was dying. The doctor and the nurses were told that I'd been an innocent bystander in an encounter between the police and a group of revolutionaries. Your repellent cousin is dead. The only other people who were there that night were Sahin Bey and Sidi Ahmed; they accepted me as one of theirs, and were long gone before the dramatic denouement. I can't see how anyone could have made the connection. There's even a neat little RIP after my name in the files of the department." "I thought you should be warned," Ramses said. "Your concern touches me deeply." Sethos's eyes narrowed, fine lines fanning out from their corners. "Did you think I was the one who betrayed you to Wardani's people?" The suspicion had never occurred to Ramses-until that moment. His silence provoked Sethos into heated speech. "For God's sake, the two men who knew your real identity and the role you'd been playing were the head of the Turkish secret service and the chief of the Senussi! There are literally dozens of people, not counting the bloody Germans, who now have that information. Why suspect me?" "The idea had never entered my mind," Ramses said. "Ah." The quick flash of anger had passed. Sethos lit another cigarette and pondered for a few moments before he went on. "You haven't been fool enough to take on another assignment, I hope?" Ramses shook his head. "Stick to that. Your cover was blown sky-high, my lad, and they'll be on the lookout for you. If you will take my advice, you'll lie low and concentrate on excavation." "I've every intention of doing so. What about you?" "The same." His uncle gave him a wolfish smile. "I came to the conclusion that espionage has very little to recommend it. The pay is poor and few people live to collect the pension, such as it is. Anyhow, the present situation in Egypt is irresistible. There's no one to stop me from doing whatever I like." "No?" His uncle sighed. "You mean to try, I suppose. The young are so idealistic. All right, then, you force me to revise my plans. There are plenty of other sites in Egypt. Enjoy your holiday." He rose to his feet and returned Ramses's cigarettes to him. "Good night. I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed this evening." "Oh, no, you don't," Ramses said. "Not until you've answered a few more questions." "I've told you everything you need to know. Look after him, Nefret. He's not very good at looking after himself, and Amelia would be upset if he came to harm. Which reminds me-you haven't heard anything more about the body she found at Giza, have you?" "Body?" Ramses stiffened. "What body?" "You didn't know? It was in the newspapers. The story didn't mention his name, but it just now occurred to me that it might be . . ." He peered inquiringly at them. "Oh, dear, I hope I haven't spoken out of turn. Perhaps it was just one of those jolly little fortuitous corpses Amelia keeps encountering. Good night again." He slid neatly out the window, feet first. Ramses turned very slowly and looked at his wife. She met his gaze squarely, but her face was flushed. "You said you had misplaced Mother's letter," he said. "All the charming chatter-and charming attentions-were designed to keep me from insisting upon reading it." The flush deepened. "She was afraid you'd see the story in the newspaper." "And you made certain I didn't see a newspaper." "I didn't want you to-" "I don't have to ask who it was, do I?" He took her by the shoulders. "You wouldn't have gone to such lengths to keep the truth from me if the body had been that of a stranger. The newspapers might not know his identity, but Mother must; she always does! It was Asad, wasn't it? Murder or suicide?" "Murder." She had told him the truth because she knew the alternative would have been even worse. It didn't lessen his sense of guilt. He should have anticipated the danger and taken steps to prevent it. "They, whoever they were, put the body where she and Father would find it," he said. "Why? No, don't tell me, the answer is obvious." "It isn't at all obvious. Strewing corpses in their path is one sure way to provoke Father and Mother." "Not Father, not Mother. Me. He was my friend. So you all took it upon yourselves to keep me in the dark? You expected I'd dash off to Cairo and go after his killer, and perhaps hurt my poor little self?" "Don't you dare talk that way to me!" She slipped out of his grasp and faced him, breathing hard. "We did it for your own good!" What with one thing and another, the past hour had tried Ramses to the limit. That infuriating, condescending comment finished the job. He reached for her. If she had protested, or apologized, or even looked at him reproachfully, he'd have let her go at once, but she was as angry as he was; she squirmed and twisted and swore, and in pure self-defense he caught her in a grip he had used once before, pinning her flailing arms to her sides and holding her close. From that point on, self-defense wasn't a consideration. He put his hand on her cheek and forced her head back against his shoulder. It might have been the softness of her skin under his hand, or the slight sound she made, hardly more than a squeak of breath. He couldn't believe what he had just done. Horrified and repentant, he relaxed his hold and started to speak. "If you apologize I'll kill you," Nefret whispered. Her arms went around his neck. When they left the shop a little later there was only one thing on both their minds, and the few words they exchanged that night had nothing to do with Sethos or corpses. Ramses's last coherent thought, before exhaustion overcame him, was that she had been right when she told him he didn't understand women. Obviously he had a lot to learn even about his own wife. Nefret was in one of her sunniest moods next morning. He woke to hear her clear voice singing little snatches of her favorite melodies-the more saccharine bits from romantic operettas-as she moved around the room." 'When you're away dear, How dreary the lonesome hours . . . Never again let us part, dear, I die without you, mine own! Hold me against your-'" The high note wobbled. "Wrong key," Ramses said with a laugh. "You're a mezzo, not a coloratura." "And you are very lazy." She leaned over him and sang it again, straight into his face. "'Hold me against your heart!' But not now. Mohammed is heating your bathwater." When he came up she was already at the table, and Nasir was nowhere in sight. "I told him we didn't need him," she explained. "We've a lot to talk about." "Yes." He waited until she had filled his cup and put the pot down. Then he took her hand in his. "Nefret, I-" "I told you not to apologize." "No. I mean, yes, you did. But-" "I've been wanting you to do that for months." The dimple in her cheek deepened. "You're adorable when you're in a temper." "I suppose I deserved that," Ramses said ruefully. "But I don't understand why-" "You've been treating me as if I were someone you didn't know very well and were afraid of offending," Nefret said indignantly. "Do you realize that was the first real, loud, honest-to-goodness argument we've had since we were married?" "An argument's one thing, and if that's what you want I'll do my best to cooperate from now on. But handling you like that-" "Well, I wouldn't want you to crrrush me in your arms and overpower me every day of the week! But now and then it makes for an interesting change." "Oh." Still mildly confused but infinitely relieved, he said hopefully, "I suppose if it weren't spontaneous it wouldn't be the same? I mean, you couldn't drop me a hint when you-" "Absolutely not." A little gurgle of amusement escaped her lips. "You might give me my hand back; I need it to pour. Drink your coffee and I'll tell you the whole story." It was a lurid story; certain of the details must have come directly from his mother's letter, they had the ring of her prose. The police had found nothing that would lead them to the killer, but the identification of the body was certain. "The name wasn't in the newspaper story," Nefret added. "You can thank Mr. Russell for that." "I'm surprised the newspapers picked it up. An anonymous Egyptian-" "Discovered in an ancient tomb by a lady who has a certain notoriety," Nefret finished. "Russell couldn't keep that information from the press, most of the gaffirs at Giza were on the scene at the time. And there is a journalist presently in Cairo who once specialized in the extraordinary adventures of the Emerson family." "Damnation, that's right. Miss Minton." "Mother and Father make wonderful copy," Nefret said with a smile. "With press censorship so strict, there's not much in the way of real news. One can hardly blame the woman for exploiting this." "I suppose not. Were there any references to curses?" "Several." Nefret hesitated, but only briefly. "There was something else in her letter I didn't tell you about. Miss Minton may be on her way here." "I am dense, amn't I? That's why you didn't want to dine at the hotel, you were afraid we'd run into her. Is there any other little detail you've neglected to mention? Assault, attempted abduction?" "Well..." "Good God!" He jumped to his feet. "Who? When? Why the hell didn't you-" "I'm sorry," Nefret whimpered. "She swore me to secrecy." Ramses got a grip on himself. "You don't whimper convincingly, Nefret. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" "No." The corners of her mouth drooped. "I've hated keeping things from you. I almost told you the other day, when you were being so sweet and reasonable and I was snapping at you because I felt guilty. Sit down and I'll tell you about it. She wasn't much hurt." "Mother? Of course, it would be Mother." As she went on with the story, curiosity replaced his outrage. He contented himself with a few mild damns before remarking, "So if Father is right, Asad was already dead when the attack on him and Mother took place. It doesn't make sense. Are you sure that's everything?" "Well ..." "I can't stand much more of this," Ramses remarked conversationally. "It's nothing serious, honestly. At least I hope not. Our Mr. Smith is in Cairo, ostensibly attached to the Department of Public Works. That's not his real name, of course; it's something hyphenated and unpronounceable. Mother tracked him down through her usual sources-tea at Shepheard's and rude gossip." "She's been a busy little creature, hasn't she?" He ran distracted fingers through his hair. "I might have known she and Father were just waiting to be rid of me before they went on the offensive. What did she do to Smith, threaten to thrash him with her parasol if he didn't leave me alone?" "Well .. ." Ramses glared at her. "I'm sorry," Nefret gurgled. "I suppose it isn't funny, but if you could see your face . . . That's more or less what she did, I guess. Ramses, she went to the Turf Club-by herself-and ordered Lord Edward to bring his friend to meet her there. Heaven only knows what she threatened, but it was enough to bring Smith promptly to heel. He admitted he had known of Asad's escape, but hadn't bothered to inform us because-how did he put it?-'we aren't worried about that ineffectual bunch of revolutionaries.' Something like that." Another irrepressible gurgle of laughter escaped her. "Can't you see her sitting in the lounge, surrounded by all those scandalized men, wearing her second-best hat and genteelly sipping her whiskey?" It was funny, if one didn't happen to be related to the lady in the second-best hat. "She's unbelievable," Ramses muttered. "Even I don't believe in her, and I've known her for over twenty years. Well, I'm not surprised 'Smith' is in Cairo. We knew he was with the Department and that his new assignment had something to do with Egypt. There is no reason to suppose he has any evil designs on me. I wish to God Mother would stop treating me like a child!" "Darling, you have every right to be angry," Nefret said soberly. "I'll never do it again, I promise." "Perhaps it's as well you did." He pushed his plate away and lit a cigarette. "In the heat of the moment I might have done something ineffectual and idiotic like catching the first train to Cairo. Then we'd have missed that charming family reunion." Nefret got up and looked over the side. "There's Jamil with the horses. Where are we going today? Gurneh?" "You know better than that." She turned, leaning against the rail. The morning breeze lifted the loose hair on her forehead. Her face was grave. "I know what you've got in mind, anyhow, but I don't agree. Mother claims she can recognize him, whatever disguise he may assume, but I certainly couldn't. He could be anywhere; he could be anyone!" "Well then, what the hell do you suggest we do? Let him loot every tomb in Luxor? Dash wildly up and down the west bank, trying to guard all of them at once?" "He said he was leaving Luxor." "You didn't believe him, did you? For God's sake, Nefret!" Instead of shouting back, she gave him a provoking grin. "My, my, that's twice in twenty-four hours. When you're angry, you are absolutely-" "Adorable. Right. I wasn't angry with you." "You were angry with him. You still are. Why?" "He manipulated both of us as if we were puppets," Ramses said between his teeth. "He had you feeling sorry for him, and me feeling guilty, and he directed every word of that conversation, do you realize that? He told us what he wanted us to know and we told him what he wanted to know! He waited until the end to drop his little bombshell so he could make a quick exit before