Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (31 page)

his shoulder. He might be missing the end of his nose instead of a bit of his earlobe. It had stopped bleeding, but the gash on his shoulder was still oozing. After removing his extraneous garments and beard, he entered the water, and before long he was pulling himself up to the open window. Nefret was there. She took the bundle from him and stood back while he climbed in. "Go and change those wet clothes," she ordered. Then her eyes widened. "Goddamn it, Ramses, what happened?" The cuts had opened up and he was dripping blood as well as water on the floor. "I told you not to show off," his uncle remarked. He was sitting up in bed. The fever had passed. Fresh sheets were tucked neatly around him, and he was wearing a nice clean nightshirt. Except for his heavy growth of beard and a certain hollowness around his eyes, he looked reasonably healthy and extremely comfortable. "You didn't tell me your Syrian friend could throw a knife," Ramses snapped. "I thought that was implicit in my description of his skills." Nefret's jaw was set. "Shirt off," she said. "It's nothing. Honestly." "Take it off." Her medical bag was on the floor by the bed. Fumbling a little, she took out various items while Ramses tugged the wet fabric over his head and tossed it into a corner. "You got off lightly," said Sethos, inspecting him. "I was running like hell." "Wise move. Well?" Ramses sat down, rather squashily and recounted his adventures while Nefret splashed antiseptic all over him. Her hands were still shaking. "It seems to have been an effective performance," Sethos conceded. "You were somewhat careless-" A wordless snarl from Nefret stopped him. She slapped a final bit of sticking plaster onto Ramses's shoulder, reached into her bag, and took out a hypodermic needle and a small bottle. "Hold out your arm," she ordered, advancing on Sethos. "What's that?" "Something to help you sleep." "I don't need-" "But I," said Nefret, "need to stick something sharp into you. If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath this would be a knife. Ramses, go to bed, you must be absolutely exhausted." "I want to watch," Ramses said. As he knew from personal experience, Nefret had a light hand with a hypodermic needle. She jabbed this one into Sethos's arm with almost as much force as if it had been a knife. She had left a lamp burning in their room. He had barely time to close the door before she flung herself at him, winding her arms tightly round his neck and hiding her face against his breast. "I'm going to kill him," she mumbled. "Not you, me. After what you went through today ... He didn't even thank you!" Watching his uncle cringe away from Nefret and her needle had made Ramses feel more tolerant. "He resents accepting favors. I expect he hasn't had much practice at it." "Don't try to make me feel sorry for him." "Nothing you could do would annoy him more." He slid his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back, and was about to kiss her when his jaws parted in a huge, involuntary yawn. "Sorry, darling." "Bed," Nefret ordered. "This instant." He hadn't realized how tired he was until his aching body came to rest on the mattress, but his mind wouldn't stop churning. "I hope we aren't shopping for sites with Cyrus tomorrow." "I put him off." Nefret removed the pins and combs from her hair and began brushing it. "The arrival of the family was a sufficient excuse." "Oh, God, yes. What are we going to do about them?" The long waving locks fell over her shoulders in a golden shower. She smiled at him and extinguished the lamp. "Don't worry about it tonight, darling. I've got a plan." 14

FROM MANUSCRIPT H (CONTINUED) "Tell them everything?" Ramses said doubtfully. "Tell everyone everything!" Nefret gestured extravagantly with a slice of buttered toast. Her eyes were bluer than the morning sky and bright as the sun over the eastern cliffs. The knowledge that his exasperating kinsman was deep in drugged slumber had allowed Ramses to have the best night's sleep he had enjoyed for days. What with one thing and another, he had been in an excellent mood when they went up to breakfast. Until then. "That's your famous plan?" "It solves the major difficulties, doesn't it? We're getting so tangled up in lies and omissions, we won't be able to keep track of what we've told whom." She planted her elbows firmly on the table and leaned forward. "We agreed last year that we would stop playing these games because it's caused a lot of trouble in the past. And here we are, at it again! The parents have been hiding things from us and we've been hiding things from them. I say we put an end to it once and for all" She bit into her toast, and watched him think it over, weighing all the pros and cons in his methodical fashion. At least he was thinking, not raising indignant objections. To her the argument "was logical and sensible, but there were several things to which her eminently logical husband did not respond sensibly. "It's Mother, isn't it?" she asked. "What?" His eyebrows tilted. "She's the one you don't trust to behave. For heaven's sake, Ramses, your mother has passed unscathed through more hair-raising adventures than any woman in fact or fiction, and she's enjoyed every second of it! It's time you began treating her like an equal." For a moment she was afraid she had pushed him too far. Then his tight lips relaxed into a sheepish smile. "I will if she will." Nefret laughed. "I'll have a word with her. You gave her a bad fright last winter, darling. Until then she hadn't been able to admit how much she cared for you, and now she's making up for lost time. So you agree?" "Yes. It's amazing," he added ingenuously. "I feel the way one of those poor overburdened donkeys must feel when the last load is lifted off his back. What have I done to deserve you?" The return of Nasir with a fresh pot of coffee prevented Nefret from telling him, in considerable detail and with appropriate gestures. She pushed the toast rack toward him. "We need to work out a few of the details," she admitted. "Quite a few. 'Everything to everybody' is going a bit far. Are you planning to confess all to-er-Emmeline?" "She'll do the confessing," Nefret said grimly. "If it takes me all morning. I'm against mentioning the arrival of the family, though. He-she-would take a chance on trying to swim the river rather than face Mother." "When do you propose to break it to Mother and Father?" After all his resistance, he had finally accepted the inevitable. Nefret smiled fondly at him. "As soon as we can get them to ourselves. Then we can decide how much to tell Cyrus, and what to do with Emmeline, and ... Now what's the matter?" "I was picturing how they'd react-Father heading straight for the Amelia, by the first means of transport he can steal or borrow, and Mother right behind him. We could take him somewhere else, give them time to cool off before they confront him. I've had an idea-" "Let him go before we've forced him to confess?" "Certainly not." Nasir loaded a tray with food for "the poor sick lady." They had managed to get Margaret away unseen and unsuspected, but it would have been impossible to account for Nefret's frequent visits to the guest room without explaining that she had a patient. Nasir had been very sympathetic. Sethos was at the window. He had draped a sheet round him in a fair imitation of a toga, and with his three days' growth of beard and hostile eyes he reminded Nefret of one of the wickeder Roman emperors-Nero or Caracalla. "Get back in bed," she ordered, as Ramses put the tray on the table. "I never want to see another bed as long as I live." "Sit down and eat your breakfast, then." She shook two tablets from the bottle of quinine and held them out. He swallowed them with a grimace. "Look here, you two, this has gone far enough. Does Vandergelt know he has an ailing sister?" "No," Ramses admitted. "So he hasn't come round to see how she's getting on? Disgraceful. You can't keep this up much longer. It's becoming too complicated." You don't know the half of it, Ramses thought. "If you are thinking of leaving us," said Nefret, arms folded, "you had better reconsider. You aren't over this yet." "I'm recovering nicely, thank you, Doctor. All I need is enough quinine to get me through the next few days. I can swallow pills with no help from anyone." "Where?" Ramses asked. "A hotel." "That's absurd," Nefret exclaimed. "Explain it to her, Ramses." Sethos returned to his eggs and toast. It was the same scheme that had occurred to Ramses. He gave his fuming wife a reassuring nod. "It's the only possible alternative. He'll need a few more days of rest and creature comforts, which would be hard to come by in a cave in the hills. There's safety in numbers and a certain anonymity in the role of a tourist." And if Sethos's enemies caught up with him, it wouldn't be here. Ramses did not underestimate them; they had already managed to discover several of his hiding places, and the longer he remained, the greater the chance of discovery. His epiphany as Haggi Sethos the night before would put them off for a while, but the story about Emmeline wouldn't hold up for long. He didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night to see Mubashir climbing in their window. "Exactly." Sethos had been eating with the grim determination of someone performing a necessary duty. He pushed his empty plate away. "If I may have the loan of a suit of your clothes, and a razor, and a few other objects designed to add verisimilitude-" "What hotel did you have in mind?" Nefret interrupted. A new and pleasing idea had replaced her indignation. "It wouldn't be the Winter Palace, by any chance?" "It's a matter of complete indifference to me" was the curt reply. "Oh, really? She got there all right, but we haven't had a chance to communicate with her since yesterday afternoon." The briefest flicker of emotion passed over Sethos's face before it resumed its habitual blandness. "If you agree, we'd better get started. It will take a while to transform me into a debonair world traveler." "Quite a while." Nefret was clearly enjoying herself. "You'll need our cooperation to carry this off, and you won't get it until you've told us everything we want to know." "Is blackmail allowed by the Hippocratic oath?" "I can't recall its being mentioned. There's no hurry," Nefret added sweetly. "You can't leave today in any case." "But-" "Explain it to him, Ramses." "You'll probably have another attack this afternoon," Ramses said. "Right, Nefret? We can't complete the necessary arrangements and get you into the hotel before that." "Right," Nefret said. "Start talking." It was Nefret's idea that they lunch at the Winter Palace. "We ought to make certain she's all right. And she'll want to hear about him." "I did promise we would let her know, but I should think she'd have recovered from her romantic fantasies. He's behaved like a brute." "Ah, well," said Nefret enigmatically. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing of importance." She adjusted her hat and straightened her skirt. "There, I'm ready." The tourist ferry appeared to be suitable for their purposes. At that time of day there were hordes of people returning to their hotels after a morning of sightseeing. If they could get their unwilling and unwanted guest to the quay, he would blend in perfectly. After that he would be on his own, and if he didn't have sense enough to stick to the plan, it would serve him right if his enemies caught up with him. He claimed he had told them everything he knew. Having declared himself resigned to the inevitable, he had produced a glib but-when you got right down to it-uninformative story. The devil of it was there was no way of checking on its accuracy, though Ramses meant to ask a few questions of a few people. One of them was not available. Sayid must have found a tourist to victimize, for he was not at his usual spot in front of the Winter Palace. They asked at the desk for Miss Minton and were informed that she was in the dining salon. One would have supposed from her appearance-smartly dressed, carefree and smiling-that she had not a worry in the world. She must have been watching the door, though, for the moment they made their appearance she stood up and waved, motioning them to join her. At the sight of her companion, Nefret stopped short. "What the devil is he doing here?" The headwaiter gave her a startled look. Ramses took her arm. "Control your homicidal impulses and try to act like a lady." "Why didn't she tell us she knew the bastard?" "Because she had no reason to suppose we would be interested," Ramses said. It was sometimes necessary to belabor the obvious when Nefret's indignation got the better of her. "Remember that we've never been properly introduced. Smile. Or at least stop grinding your teeth." "Smith" was on his feet when they reached the table. After asking whether they were acquainted and receiving a prompt denial from Smith, Margaret introduced them, adding, "Algie is with the Department of Public Works in Cairo. Mr. and Mrs. Emerson are-" "I have heard of them, of course," Smith said smoothly. "This is indeed a pleasure. Won't you sit down?" It was a table for four, and the waiter was holding a chair for Nefret. She remained standing. "We wouldn't want to intrude." "Not at all," Smith said. "I was about to leave in any case. An appointment." "Aren't you on holiday?" Ramses asked, avoiding the use of that preposterous name. The faintly sinister commonality of "Smith" suited the fellow better. "The appointment is with a mummy." He looked quite different from the tight-lipped, hard-eyed man they had met in London. Instead of the stark black and white of evening dress, he wore clothing suited to the climate and his announced program. The suit showed signs of wear, and the pith helmet he had politely removed from a chair was somewhat battered. He'd spent some time in the East. India? "Mr. MacKay most kindly offered to show me round the Valley of the Kings this afternoon," Smith went on. "One of the pharaohs is still in his sarcophagus, I believe?" "Amenhotep the Second," Ramses said. "So you are a friend of MacKay's?" "Never met him. Friends in Cairo gave me letters of introduction to a number of people." He summoned the waiter and asked for his bill before continuing, "I've met most of the archaeologists in Luxor. Very agreeable chaps." Nefret appeared to be studying her menu. Margaret was listening politely, but Ramses noticed she was pleating her napkin into fold after fold. "How much longer are you staying in Luxor?" he asked. It was the sort of casual question anyone might have asked of a stranger, but the lines in Smith's cheeks deepened. "A few more days. I'm finding Luxor much more interesting than I had expected." He took his leave of them. Nefret barely gave him time to get out of earshot before she turned on Margaret and demanded, "Is that man a friend of yours?" Margaret spoke at the same time. "How is he?" "He's much better," Ramses said. "There's been no sign of trouble. What about you?" Nefret subsided, looking as if she regretted her impulsive question-as well she might. Excessive interest in Smith might make Margaret wonder what had prompted that interest. Margaret shrugged. "Except for an invitation to join you for dinner last night at the Savoy, nothing has occurred." "They didn't waste any time," Ramses said. "How did they know you'd got back?" "My entrance was somewhat conspicuous," Margaret said with a wry smile. "I had to disrobe-or should I say unrobe?-in front of the doorman, he wasn't going to let me in, and I made something of a spectacle of myself dashing through the lobby in my less than impeccable clothing. Everyone stared." She reached into her handbag and took out a folded piece of paper. "You'd made me nervous," she added accusingly. "I made the safragi slip the note under the door." "Very sensible." Ramses examined the brief message. "It's not my handwriting." "I wouldn't have known that." "But he couldn't be sure you wouldn't. The handwriting is obviously disguised." He passed the note on to Nefret. "It's written in English," Nefret said thoughtfully. "Good English." "What there is of it. Only one sentence, without embellishment. Still, it does raise provocative ideas. I'll keep this, if I may, Margaret. Congratulations on refusing the invitation." "I found it insulting. How could they suppose I'd be dim enough to respond to a disingenuous attempt like that one?" "It was worth a try." Ramses slipped the note into his breast pocket. "They'll try again-something less obvious next time. You are the only person who knows where he went that night. Be on your guard. You ought to have stayed in your room and not come down to the dining salon." "I was about to start climbing the walls," Margaret said sullenly. "If I hadn't run into Algie-" "How long have you known him?" Nefret asked. "I met him ten years ago, when I was in India doing a series of articles on the Northwest Frontier problem. I didn't know he'd been posted to Egypt... Has he told you why those men were after him?" The second "he" obviously did not refer to Smith. Margaret's dismissal of him suggested that she had no suspicion of his real role; she'd have been quick to exploit their earlier acquaintance if she had known he was involved with intelligence. Ramses didn't believe in the Public Works Department any more than he believed Smith was on holiday.