Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (24 page)

away from here. And try to take that damned woman with you." "Margaret? Why?" "That, at least, should be obvious," said her uncle by marriage in exasperation. "She's as obstinate and inquisitive as Amelia. She's no fool, either. If she goes on the way she has begun ... Tell her some fantastic yarn that will induce her to follow you to Cairo. Offer her a scoop-a corpse-a curse-something. Now you'd better get back to him before he comes looking for you. Doesn't he ever let you off the lead?" He was five feet away, moving with a deceptive quickness that reminded Nefret of his brother, before she could react. She jumped up, took two steps, and stopped. She'd have to run to catch him up. A pretty sight that would be-Mrs. Emerson the Younger pelting through the lobby of the Winter Palace in pursuit of a strange man. A second later he was out of sight. He'd done it again. From now on I'll be on guard against provocative comments like that, she told herself firmly. He used them like slaps on the face, jarring the listener into temporary immobility. Off the lead-as if she were a faithful hound! She managed to stuff the crude cotton bundle into her evening bag, but she knew Ramses would notice the bulge. He noticed everything. He noticed. Not the evening bag at first, but her air of suppressed excitement. "You've been a long time," he said, searching her face. "Has something happened?" "Yes. I don't want coffee, let's go. I'll tell you as soon as we're alone." They had hired a felucca instead of having one of their men row them across; Nefret loved sailing the dark waters under the starlit sky. As soon as they took their places and the boat was under way, she launched into her story. He didn't interrupt until she repeated what he had said about Margaret Minton. "So he calls her Margaret, does he? Try to remember his exact words, Nefret. It may be important." She went over it again. She left the gun until last. His only comment was, "I saw there was something. Don't show it to me now." Accustomed as she was to his self-control, the cool tones worried her a little. "Are you angry because I didn't tell you while we were at the Winter Palace?" she asked meekly. He put his arm round her shoulders. "No, there was no sense in staying there. It would have been futile to try and find him." But the arm under the fine broadcloth of his coat was hard as granite. They had coffee in the saloon. They were to meet the train next morning, but it was still early and Ramses wouldn't rest until he had picked over that conversation word by word and syllable by syllable. "You told him we cared about his safety? It must have been a very affecting performance." "I do care," Nefret protested. "How could I not, after what he's done for us? He has a lot of admirable qualities, and a lot of the family charm. He reminds me more and more of Father, and of you." Ramses had removed coat, waistcoat, and tie as soon as he was on board. Pacing up and down the saloon, he pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes and said caustically, "Mother tried for years to redeem him, as she put it. Do you suppose you can succeed where she failed?" "He's older now and he's been through a lot," Nefret said temperately. "And I think he was sincere when he said he was concerned about you." "Far be it from me," said her husband, "to cast cold water on that touching assumption, but there is another, less sentimental interpretation of his seeming concern." "I know." "He's after something," Ramses muttered. "Something big. Something that requires time and privacy. He's not worried about the locals; he's always used a judicious blend of intimidation and rewards to win their support, and they'd have nothing to gain by turning him in. Hell, there's nobody to whom they could turn him in! The local police are useless or corrupt, and the Service des Antiquites hasn't the manpower, and the British authorities are too busy with the war to care about a few artifacts. The only person they might approach is-" "You." "Yes. Not as myself, but as Father's representative. There's an outside chance that one of the lads might be moved by old loyalties or by fear of the Father of Curses. I'll give him this much credit," Ramses added grudgingly. "I don't believe he would do me an injury, and he certainly wouldn't harm you. But he's not going to let us stop him either. What he did tonight was typically ingenious- appealing to you on my account, with veiled hints of danger." "They weren't so veiled. He said there was another player in the game." Ramses dismissed this with a brusque gesture. "We've seen no sign of anyone else." "Right. People drop rocks and dead bodies on you all the time." "Maybe he only meant to frighten us off." "Sethos? He wouldn't take the risk of hurting either of us." His lips tightened in exasperation. "You've gone soft on him, like Mother and Margaret. Giving you the gun was a particularly clever touch. Did he ask you not to tell me about it?" "No," Nefret said. "Let's have a look at it." He threw himself down on the divan next to her and drew the weapon out of its clumsy container. "Pretty little thing," he said, with a curl of his lip. "It's the newest model of Mother's beloved Ladysmith. Fully loaded ..." He swung the cylinder out. "Except for the seventh shot, the one in the chamber under the hammer. Since there's no safety catch, that would prevent a nasty accident in case the gun was dropped." "I know." "Mother let you play with hers, did she?" "Would you rather I didn't carry it?" "You're asking for my approval? Nefret, you know why I don't carry a gun. This isn't the first time I've asked myself whether I have the right to take that position, but I can't . . ." He bent his head so that she couldn't see his face, and when he went on his voice was tired and defeated, like that of an old man. "You were worried about my accepting another assignment. You needn't have been. I won't. I can't. I've lost my nerve, Nefret. The very thought of violence makes me sick. How does it feel to have a coward for a husband?" Nefret almost laughed, as one does at a statement so outrageously false it is tantamount to a joke. He wasn't joking, though. He really meant it! She wanted to put her arms around him, but the situation was too serious for caresses and soothing denials. It's me, she thought. This is what I've done to him-he's afraid for me, not for himself, and he can't see the difference, and he won't believe me if I tell him. "That is one of the most ridiculous statements you've ever made," she said. She knew it wasn't enough. "Good of you to say so." He smiled at her, but his eyes were hooded and opaque. "Well, that's the end of tonight's little drama. Keep the gun. One can't refuse a gift from a fond uncle, can one?"

11

The "train de luxe," first class only (except for a second-class car reserved for the servants of the travelers) departed on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. It was not deluxe enough for Cyrus, who would have borrowed the Sultan's carriage and had it hitched to the train had he been able. Failing that, he reserved an entire car for his party, which included Daoud. There was no one better than Daoud to look after an invalid, and Bertie had taken quite a liking to him. They carried with them every comfort Cairo could provide, from hampers of food to linen sheets for the berths. A flurry of telegrams had assured us that everything was in readiness for the travelers upon their arrival, and that they would be met at the station. When the train pulled away on Saturday evening, only an hour late, Emerson let out a gusty sigh. "What a fuss! The boy would be better off if everyone left him alone." "Now, Emerson, you know that is nonsense. He seemed brighter, but he has a long way to go. Sennia was good for him, I think." Sennia had carried on like a small tragedienne when we denied her request to accompany the Vandergelts. She was reluctant to give up her self-appointed role as Bertie's nurse, but her real reason for wanting to go to Luxor was that she missed Ramses. "We'll take her with us to the dig tomorrow," Emerson said. "That will cheer her up." "I do not believe in rewarding children for bad behavior, Emerson." "She is only six. What do you expect her to do, sit in the house all day while we are at Giza? There is no school on Sunday." "I ought to take her to church. Her religious training has been sadly neglected since we got here." "Be damned to that," said Emerson. "I need you on the dig. We have lost several days, and with Daoud gone we are even more shorthanded." "Do you intend to begin on the queen's pyramid tomorrow?" Emerson gave me a severe look. "That sounds like blackmail, Peabody." He was just making one of his little jokes. We had already decided that the queen's pyramid should be our next project. At least I had, and Emerson had not said we would not. Since Friday was the day of rest for our Moslem friends, we had become accustomed to working on the Sabbath. It was a frightful nuisance to dress and drive all the way into Cairo to attend services, so I conducted a brief service of my own, with prayer and reading aloud from Scripture. At Gargery's request we also sang a few hymns. He favored the militant or the lugubrious of these. I had no objection to a rousing chorus of "Onward, Christian Soldiers," but to hear Gargery bellowing out verses like "Dark was the night, Sin warred against us, Heavy the load of sorrow we bore" was somewhat alarming. Sennia, who was unacquainted with sin in any form, enjoyed it very much. Emerson did not attend. After this we all set out for Giza. Sennia had apologized very sweetly for her behavior, and we were all in a cheerful frame of mind, except for Horus, who was never in a cheerful frame of mind and who hated riding in his basket. Emerson complained, of course, about Daoud's absence and a number of other things, but I could tell he was looking forward to investigating the pyramid. I had given the place only a cursory inspection before. A closer examination indicated that the task before us was not going to be easy. The pyramid itself was the best-preserved of the three that had been built for Khufu's queens. The names of several such ladies were known from other sources, but the precise ownership of the small pyramids was yet to be determined. Like the other tombs at Giza, all three had been cased with fine limestone, which had been stripped off, leaving the steplike core. The entrance to the substructure was on the north side. Sand had drifted high around the base, burying the opening and the remains of the funerary chapel on the south side. If, as we had cause to suspect, it was the latest of several similar shrines, disentangling the various levels would be a daunting task. However, that was all to the good. It would keep Emerson busily occupied for some time. So we rolled up our sleeves, metaphorically speaking, and got to work. The first order of business was a meticulous survey of the area. Emerson and I set about this while Selim arranged the photographic equipment. I saw Sennia starting to scramble up a slope of sand and was about to call out a sharp warning when Gargery, close on her heels as always, pulled her away. "Go and look for bones, Sennia," I ordered. Her lower lip protruded.'! am bored with bones. Aunt Nefret is the only one who likes them, and she isn't here." "Potsherds, then. Ramses likes them very much. You can have a collection ready for him when he comes back." "He likes things with writing on them better." "Look for them, then," I said in exasperation. "We are all going to be busy for a while, so amuse yourself like a good girl." I watched the trio depart. First Sennia, trotting along at a brisk pace, then Horus, then Gargery, remaining a safe distance from the cat, who would not allow anyone to come between him and Sennia. Gargery was still limping a little. I did not waste my sympathy on him, however; it had been his choice to come with us and he would not have relinquished his post as guard for Sennia if he had had to crawl after her. I cannot help blaming myself for the suggestion that she find something interesting for Ramses, though in the end the result would probably have been the same. They would have found their opportunity sooner or later. It was sooner than they could have hoped, for the child, remembering the inscribed stela, had headed straight for the dump site where that object had been. It was a considerable distance away and the terrain was uneven, with hollows and heaps of sand between. Her high-pitched scream cut across the distance like a train whistle. Before it stopped, with shocking suddenness, Emerson was off and running. Selim dropped the camera. "Sitt! What-" "Follow me!" I cried, and went after Emerson. He had to cast about a bit before he found them, so I was on the scene almost as soon as he. Gargery lay flat on the ground struggling with a man who was dressed like one of the gaffirs. After the first horrified look I realized my unfortunate butler was not really fighting; he was only trying to hold on to the fellow, who was kicking and pounding him with his fists. Arms locked around the man's leg, Gargery hung on like grim death and it was not until Emerson dragged his captive away from him that he raised his head. Spitting out a mouthful of sand, he gasped, "The other one took her. It was that same chap-the one that showed her the stela, sir-he said he had something else for her, and then he took hold of her, sir and madam, and that one there knocked me down, and, and ... I 'ave failed in me duty, sir and madam." "No, you have not," said Emerson, who was holding his prisoner by the throat. The man was no longer struggling. His terrified eyes were fixed on Emerson. Gargery was almost as wild-eyed as the prisoner. He kept flailing around, trying to stand, and would, I expect, have gone running off in frantic and futile pursuit had I not restrained him. I was, of course, intensely concerned, but I knew haste would accomplish nothing. It was too late to follow the other villain. I said as much to Gargery, adding, "This fellow knows where his companion has taken her. How you managed to hang on to him I do not know, but when we find her-as we will-it will be because of your courage and loyalty." "Not just mine, madam," said Gargery. He got to his hands and knees and crawled painfully toward an object that lay motionless on the ground, its tawny fur almost indistinguishable from the sand that surrounded it. Gargery gathered the cat's body in his arms and sat down, holding it on his lap. "He kept biting and scratching until that barstard kicked him, madam, square in the ribs. Excuse me, madam. He's a hero, madam, poor old fellow." He bowed his head. Two tears dropped down onto the ruffled fur. "You are both heroes," said Emerson. "Selim, get this fellow to the house and lock him up. He has told me where they were to take her." The rest of our men, including Amherst, had gathered round. A dozen eager hands reached for the quaking villain, and Emerson added, "He is not to be harmed. Is that understood?" "Let me go with you, sir," William begged. Emerson shook his head. "Mrs. Emerson and I will deal with the matter. Selim, I leave you in charge, we must go at once. Look after Gargery-and the cat." "I will carry him, sir," said Gargery, getting to his feet with Selim's assistance. "It's the least I can do for the poor, brave ... Aaah!" He dropped his burden and clutched at his arm. Horus gave him a malevolent yellow stare, rolled over, and began licking his side. A hasty and necessarily cursory examination assured me that Gargery had no broken bones, though his bruises were extensive. I knew better than to try to examine Horus, but the energy with which he fought my attempt to wrap him in Emerson's coat suggested his injuries were less severe than I had feared. I handed the squirming bundle to William, who took it with the same look of terrified disgust with which an elderly bachelor might receive a wet, howling baby. "Hold him tightly," I instructed. "He will try to follow us if you let him go." "Yes, ma'am," said William. "Whatever you say." Emerson kept patting Gargery mechanically on the shoulder, but every muscle in his body was tensed, and I knew I could not keep him from pursuit much longer. Not that I wanted to. I was as frantic as he. "Now, Emerson," I began, and got no further. He caught my hand and set off with long strides toward Mena House, where we had left the horses. His pace was so rapid I could not find breath enough to speak until after we had reached the stable. Emerson's curses inspired the stableman to quick action, and it was Emerson's hands that saddled and bridled his own steed. "Where are we going?" I asked breathlessly. "Kafr el Barud. It's a hamlet due east of here." He tossed me into the saddle and mounted. The grounds of the hotel were crowded with people and vehicles; we were unable to go quickly at first, and Emerson took advantage of the enforced delay to utter a few sentences of explanation. "They had horses and a rug or cloak to wrap round her. The first man fled with Sennia while the other one was struggling with Gargery. They hadn't expected him to put up such a fight." He swallowed noisily, and then said, "They won't hurt her, Peabody." "She has already been hurt-frightened, and roughly handled, and perhaps struck. How else could they keep her quiet? Good Gad, Emerson, can't we go faster?" Emerson's lips curled back, baring his teeth. "Stay close." I do not believe we actually knocked anyone down. The persons who fell to the ground tripped over their own feet in their haste to get out of our way. How Emerson found the place I do not know; "hamlet" was too grandiose a word for the scattering of huts, not more than half a dozen of them, nestled in a hollow at the foot of the escarpment. It was one of the poorest, most miserable-looking collection of dwellings I have ever seen, even in Egypt. The inhabitants must have had to carry drinking water from the river or the nearest irrigation canal, for there was no well nor tree nor green plant. The crumbling mud-bricks of the houses were the same drab color as the surrounding soil. Emerson had galloped straight into what would have been the village square if the place had boasted such an amenity. There was no sign of life except for a dog sleeping in the dust, and a few chickens. Our approach had not been silent or inconspicuous; the inhabitants had had time to flee or conceal themselves. "The place looks deserted," I said. "Are you sure he wasn't lying?" "To me? I think not." Emerson, who had, of course, lost his hat, shaded his eyes with his hand and studied the dismal scene. "That seems the most likely place." My own eyes had told me there was only one possible place where a prisoner might be held. It stood a little apart from the other houses and it was more stoutly built. Bolted wooden shutters covered the single small window and the door was also barred, from the outside. As we approached, the dog got up and stood watching us with feral yellow eyes. I knew the temper of these vicious half-wild beasts, so I was not surprised when it bared its teeth and began to growl. Emerson ignored it; he had no thought at that moment for anything except the child; but I picked up a stone and held it ready. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt my chest. Except for the dog's low growls the place was utterly silent. It was like a Moslem cemetery, dusty and deserted and baking under the hot sun. Was the child unconscious, or bound and gagged, or in the grasp of the villain who had carried her off? I could not imagine Sennia failing to protest her captivity if she was able to articulate. We were almost at the door before I heard a voice, and astonishment stopped me in my tracks. It was not Sennia's unmistakable, high-pitched voice; it was not the gruff voice of a man. The crooning, quavering tones were a woman's, repeating soft endearments. "Little one, sit down and rest. Here is water, darling; will you drink? Or honey cakes, eat them, they are good." "La, shukran," said Sennia. My knees almost gave way. It was such a relief to hear her, sounding quite cool and unhurt, politely declining the offering. I looked at Emerson. "What on earth-" I mouthed. He put his finger to his lips. I knew why he hesitated; he wanted to be certain there was no one else in the room. Sennia went on, in the same gentle voice. "I want to go home, Mother. Please let me out." "Sweet one, I cannot. He locked us in. You aren't afraid, are you? Don't be afraid. You are safe with me." She had been very brave, but now she began to cry, and when Emerson heard her sobs he lifted the heavy wooden bar and wrenched the door open. There was some light in the room from small ventilation holes high under the eaves; I made out dim shapes that were, as I later discovered, a low bed or couch, a brazier, and a few pots and baskets. In the first moment I had eyes only for Sennia. Her face was dirty and smeared with tears and her clothing was crumpled. That was all I saw before she hurled herself at Emerson. He caught her up in his arms and held her close. "It's all right, Little Bird, we are here. Did they hurt you?" "Not very much." She wiped her wet eyes with her fingers. "Did they hurt Gargery? And Horus? The man kicked him, the beast!" "They are both all right," I said, deciding this was not the time to enter into detail. "Emerson, let's go." "Not just yet," said Emerson. He set Sennia on her feet. "I have a few questions to put to this woman." "Don't frighten her," Sennia cried. She ran to the woman, who was crouched by the brazier, and put her small arms around the shaking form. "She was