Mr Impossible (44 page)

“
Yes, yes, of
course. Perhaps—”

“
And I want
to be left alone. In peace.”

“
Certainly. A
terrible shock. I am so sorry.”

He would most
certainly make someone else sorry, too, very sorry.

He gave Mrs.
Pembroke into the care of a maidservant, who took her to see the
unconscious Archdale, then helped her bathe and put her to bed.

While his future
bride sank into exhausted sleep upon her divan, his lordship listened
to Ghazi’s report.

The thundercloud
had grown black by now. The lady was supposed to be warm with
gratitude to her rescuer and hero, Asheton Noxley. Instead, she was
cold and angry.

She was supposed to
love him. At present, she seemed to hate him. Now he must spend
days—perhaps weeks-winning her over.

He was very
unhappy, which boded ill for somebody, perhaps several somebodies.

“
I told you I
wanted Carsington out of the way,” he said. “Did I not
point out that the simplest method was to have him taken to the
nearest guardhouse for questioning?” Once Carsington was in
someone else’s custody, it would be easy enough to arrange for
him to disappear or die of “natural causes.” It was
perfectly natural to die, for instance, if a pillow got stuck on your
face or poison got into your food or a viper got into your bed.

Instead, a man Mrs.
Pembroke knew was in Lord Nox-ley’s employ had killed
Carsington. While she watched.

“
I can
scarcely believe my ears,” his lordship said, shaking his head.
“You are supposed to be men of experience. But a mongoose nips
you in the leg, and all your discipline is thrown to pieces. You knew
we needed to be careful with him. You knew the matter required the
utmost discretion. Now, thanks to your carelessness, I am tainted
with the murder of an English nobleman’s son.”

The nobleman in
question was not one with whom his lordship cared to cross swords.

“
I agree,
lord,” Ghazi said. “It was all very stupid. But if I may
explain one matter for which we were not prepared.”

“
You didn’t
expect the mongoose attack,” Lord Noxley said. “On its
hind legs I daresay it came all the way up to your knee. Ah, but
their teeth are very sharp, and once they take hold, they don’t
let go. Terrifying monsters, indeed.”

“
I do not
know how it was,” Ghazi said stolidly, “but the Egyptians
took courage from the mongoose, I think. They fought us. Common
Egyptians—they rose up and fought us.”

Lord Noxley frowned
at him. No one could have been prepared for that. Egyptians—common
Egyptians, that is, not members of the military—cowered, hid,
or ran away. They didn’t fight.

“
If they had
not fought, we might have taken the Englishman away with no
difficulty,” said Ghazi. “We had only to beat the others
a little, and soon he must yield. A big man, but with a heart soft
like those of so many of your people. I agree there is no excuse for
the killing. It was needless and stupid.”

Lord Noxley
considered. After a moment, he said, “The killer must be
brought to justice.”

Ghazi piously
agreed.

“
You had
better turn him over to the Turkish soldiers,” Lord Noxley
said.

Forty Turkish
soldiers were stationed in Luxor, for it was a town of some
importance. Torturing the murderer would amuse them, and keeping the
soldiers entertained was one way to insure their loyalty. Paying
them—which the pasha often failed to do—was another. But
that presented no problems.

Once he wed Virgil
Pembroke’s wealthy widow, Lord Noxley could afford to be very
generous, indeed.

Monday 30 April

“
DEVIL TAKE
IT,” Miles said. “You were supposed to be safe in Cairo.”

It wasn’t the
most affectionate greeting for a sister he hadn’t seen in a
month, but he wasn’t feeling affectionate at the moment. His
head pounded, a fire raged behind his eyeballs, and his mouth tasted
like camel’s breath.

He’d dreamt
of her last night, or thought it was a dream. She said she’d
come in to see him, to make sure he was really there.

Now
she
was really there—here—in his room, sitting on the edge of
the divan, and there was no imagining it was a dream.

“
You didn’t
know I was coming?” she said. “Your friend didn’t
tell you he’d sent men to collect me?”

“
I think he
likes surprises,” Miles said.
Like
heads in baskets
. He sat up fully, dragging his hand through his hair.

“
You look
frightful,” she said.

“
So do you,”
he said. It wasn’t because she was dressed like an Egyptian
man, minus turban. Her face was dead white, and shadows ringed her
eyes.

She glanced down at
her clothes. “I hadn’t time to pack.”

“
I don’t
mean your clothes,” he said. “What’s happened to
you?”

“
They killed
Rupert Carsington,” she said.

“
Say again?”

She repeated the
sentence. Then she told him how she’d occupied herself during
the last month.

Miles lay down
again, clutching his head and trying to take it in. His bookish,
reclusive sister had set out—with Rupert Carsington!—Lord
Hargate’s hellion son!—to find Miles. He could hardly
follow the rest of her adventures, when his mind couldn’t
compass the first simple facts.

Quiet, studious
Daphne. Chasing up the Nile. With Rupert Carsington!

“
You should
not have drunk so much,” she said. “I have never known
you to get into that state. You are developing very bad habits. I
hope it isn’t Noxley’s influence.”

He dragged himself
up again. “It’s the curst papyrus,” he said. “He
takes it out every night and wants to talk about it. I think he
thinks I know something I don’t.”

“
Well, you
don’t know anything about it,” she said.

“
I mean, I
think he thinks what the French lunatic thinks.”

“
That you can
read it,” she said.

“
I’ve
told him no one can read it. I’ve told him I went to Giza to
study the entrance to Chephren’s pyramid, to try to discern the
clues Belzoni saw, the ones that told him where the entrance was.
Something about the way the rubble lay. I thought, if I could see
what Belzoni saw, I could apply the knowledge in Thebes, the way
Belzoni did, and find a royal tomb. I told him the papyrus got me
itching to find another one. But Noxley keeps picking at my brain, as
though he thinks I’m keeping secrets from him.”

“
You are,”
she said. “My secret.”

“
He thinks
it’s the key to decipherment. I drink because his delicate
probing is driving me mad.”

“
Well, then,
we shall have to clarify matters,” she said. “He’s
asked us to join him in the
qa ‘a
. Shall I go ahead or
wait for you?”

“
Wait,”
he said. “I’d rather not leave you alone with him.”

She gave a short
laugh.

“
What’s
so amusing?” he said.

“
I’ve
looked a viper in the eye before,” she said.

He didn’t
understand. She was behaving strangely. This wasn’t the Daphne
he knew. It must be the shock, he thought. She’d seen a man
killed, and she’d traveled across the desert with Ghazi and his
band of merry murderers. Not to mention the river journey. With
Rupert Carsington!

She rose. “I’ll
wait for you in my room,” she said. “I have a fine view.”

It was only after
she left that he became aware of the distant sound. A screech or
shriek. Some sort of bird, perhaps.

HE LOOKED SO
innocent, Daphne thought. Golden curls and clear blue eyes. He was
dressed Arab style though minus the turban and beard and all in white
instead of the bright colors the locals favored.

All in white, like
an angel.

Smiling, all
sunshine, as though all were right with the world.

She smiled, too,
because she did not plan to make anything easy for him. She settled
onto the divan and said, yes, she’d slept well, thank you. And
no, she had no objections to native food, and yes, coffee would be
just the thing— very strong, please, as Miles needed a
stimulant.

Miles sat next to
her, protective, though he was so ill and weak, he could scarcely sit
upright. He’d never had a head for drinking.

Noxley apologized
for her limited wardrobe. “I cannot think why the men failed to
collect your belongings,” he said.

“
They were
too busy killing people,” she said.

“
Daph,”
Miles murmured, giving her a nudge.

She ignored him.
“Speaking of which—”

“
Daph, could
we postpone unpleasant subjects until after I’ve swallowed some
coffee?” Miles said. “Good gad, what’s that
horrible noise?” He clutched his head.

Even without an
aching head, she, too, found it disturbing. She’d heard it
earlier, but faintly. She’d thought it some exotic bird or
animal. Or maybe peacocks.

“
The
screaming, you mean?” said Noxley.

“
It’s
human
?” Miles said.

“
Oh, yes,”
Noxley said. “It appears the Turkish soldiers are interrogating
the man who shot Mr. Carsington.” He brought his innocent blue
gaze back to Daphne. “Naturally, as soon as you informed me, I
questioned my men and ordered the culprit brought to justice.”

“
It sounds as
though they’re torturing him,” she said.

“
The Turks’
notions of justice are different from ours,” he said. “If
the noise troubles you, I’ll request they remove him out of
earshot. It will not go on very much longer, at any rate. They must
take him back to Cairo. Muhammad Ali will want the English consul
general to witness the execution. Doubtless the assassin’s head
will be sent to Lord Hargate.”

“
Gad, another
one,” Miles muttered. “In a basket, I don’t doubt.”

A servant glided
in, bearing an enormous tray. He set it down upon the elaborately
carved stool near the divan and glided away.

“
You had
wanted the matter dealt with promptly,” said Lord Noxley. “I
wished to spare you the ordeal of reliving the experience.”

As though she could
ever stop reliving it.

He looked down for
a moment, at his hands, then up at her again, all blue-eyed
innocence. “I cannot apologize enough,” he said. “My
men were obliged to act in haste, for they’d word that Duval’s
people were coming for you. The trouble is, thinking is not what they
do best. In their eagerness to protect you, they were impatient,
clumsy, and stupid. They are unaccustomed to defiance from the common
people. It gave them a shock that disordered their lamentably limited
wits.”

“
I see,”
she said. “I had wondered why I had to be forcibly removed from
my boat. I should have thought an armed escort would have sufficed as
protection. But your men were not thinking clearly—or at all.”

He bowed his head
again and pressed two fingers to the place between his eyebrows. “I
do see your point. It is so difficult to explain the way of things
here.”

“
Suppose you
don’t,” she said. “Suppose you say plainly that you
are the Golden Devil, the terror of Upper Egypt, and you want us here
for a particular reason, not necessarily altruistic.”

She heard Miles
suck in his breath.

Noxley winced and
shut his eyes.

“
Daph,”
Miles said, touching her arm.

She shook him off.
“What is it, my lord?” she pressed. “The papyrus?
It does have a curious effect on men. Poisons their judgment. Makes
them see things that aren’t there. Royal tombs, heaped with
treasure. People who can read hieroglyphic writing. My papyrus could
be an account of a battle or a proclamation—no more to do with
treasure than the Rosetta Stone. But men see the pair of cartouches,
and their imaginations run away with them. You are such romantic
creatures.”