Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (7 page)

done it, and that will be the end of it. He's quite a gentle soul, really." I said, "How did he find out it was you?" "Ha!" Emerson cried. "Just what I was about to ask. The official story was that Wardani was arrested at the same time as his lieutenants and exiled to India-where, in fact, he had been all along. The others were sent to prison or to one of the oases, so that there would be no chance of their communicating with Wardani. That's another thing. This fellow Asad was supposed to be locked up. How did he escape?" There are five major oases in the Western Desert: Siwa, the northernmost; Bahriya, Farafra, Kharga, and Dakhla. Except for Farafra, they are each large enough and fertile enough to support a population of several thousand, but I would not have cared to endure a long exile in any of them. Sanitation was virtually nonexistent and diseases of various kinds were endemic. They served as quite effective prisons, since they were separated from the Nile by miles of barren waterless country, and were accessible only by camel caravan. All of them except ... "Oh, good Gad," I exclaimed. "Don't tell me they sent him to Kharga!" "Right as always, Mother," said my son. "The fellow bought him a nice new suit and a ticket and put him on the train." "It isn't funny," Nefret said, but the corners of her mouth curved up in sympathy with his amusement. It was nice to see him smile as often as he did these days, even if, as in the present case, the situation was really too serious for laughter. "But it's so wonderfully humdrum," Ramses explained. "Escape from the oasis-doesn't it conjure up an image of a wild dash for freedom on camelback, under the desert stars, with the enemy in hot pursuit, and all that rot? The train from Kharga only takes nine hours to the junction, and from there he could catch the express to Cairo." "Damned fools," muttered Emerson. "That is a trifle harsh, Emerson," I said. "Even if he had had the initiative and the means to escape on his own, what harm could he do, alone and leaderless? Someone supplied him with both means and incentive-and, I expect, encouragement. We hold Kharga, don't we?" "Only a token force," said Emerson. "The Senussi undoubtedly have emissaries-or spies, if you prefer the word-at Kharga and the other oases. Everyone knows an attack on the Egyptian-Libyan border is imminent. The Turks have been training and arming the Senussi for years, and the tribesmen of the Western Desert support them. We haven't the manpower to defend the oases. We are spread thin enough as it is." "Weren't you able to get any more information out of Mr. Asad?" I inquired, attempting against all odds to stick to the point. "Not really," Nefret admitted. "He said his benefactor was a man he'd never seen before; he was dressed like a Bedouin and his Arabic, though fluent, was not that of an Egyptian." "Not that of a Cairene," Ramses corrected. "Local dialects vary a great deal." "So do the dialects of Syria and Turkey," Emerson muttered. "And Senussi. Ah, well, we mustn't leap to conclusions. Was that all?" Nefret nodded. "He was so upset it was almost impossible to get anything sensible out of him. He kept saying he was sorry, he was going away, he would never bother us again, but there were others, and we must be on our guard. So Ramses let him go." "Damnation," said Emerson. "Why the devil did you do that?" "What was the alternative?" Ramses demanded, with unusual heat. "Turn him over to the police or the military? I did that before. I couldn't bring myself to do it again, not to him. He knows how to find me and I told him I would help him if I can." "Very sensible," I said, anticipating another indignant comment from my impetuous husband, who prefers less subtle methods of extracting information from reluctant witnesses. "He is now indebted to you, and if he is a man of honor, as you believe, he will wish to repay that debt. You think he will seek you out again?" "I hope so." "That's all very well," Emerson grumbled. "But what about the others? You might at least have asked him who they were." "I don't believe he knew himself," Ramses said. "The movement's not dead, but it has been driven underground and I can't believe anyone is going to bother about me." He put his glass on the table and rose to his feet. "However-it's agreed, isn't it, that none of us is to mention this incident to the family in England?" "Hmmm." Emerson stroked his chin. "You are in the right, my boy. If David got wind of it-" "He'd be on the next boat." Ramses's grave young countenance softened into a smile. "He thinks I haven't enough sense to take care of myself. I can't imagine what gave him that idea. The fact is, David would be in even greater danger from Wardani's people. I was never a member of the organization. David was. Asad's motives were personal and-er-emotional, but he and the others would regard David as a traitor." After they had taken their departure I waited for Emerson to comment. He said nothing for a while; deep in thought, he took up his pipe and went about the messy business of filling it. Having scattered bits of tobacco all over his knees and the floor, he struck a match and started puffing. "Well?" I demanded. "What are we going to do about this?" "You are of the opinion we should do something?" "I suppose we could sit back and wait for one of those wildeyed fanatics to assassinate Ramses." "I'm inclined to agree with his assessment of Asad, you know. However," said Emerson, anticipating my indignant protest, "I don't like the sound of this. Ramses's role was known to Sahin Bey of Turkish intelligence and to Sidi Ahmed, the Sheikh of the Senussi. I had a little chat with General Maxwell the other day-" "Why did you do that? I thought we had agreed we would have nothing to do with the military. Confound it, Emerson, if you suspected something like this was going to happen you ought to have told me." "I didn't suspect anything like this, and one of the reasons why I went to the trouble of seeing Maxwell was to reemphasize the position we took with Salisbury and that bastard Smith. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Maxwell agreed with me that Ramses should stay out of the intelligence game, though his reasons were probably not the same as mine." "No. Military persons do not care about the safety of the men they send into battle. Mark my words, Emerson: if he thought of a way in which Ramses could be useful he would try to recruit him again. What do the Senussi have to do with this, anyhow?" Emerson enjoys lecturing, so I let him, though much of what he told me was already known to me. The Senussi tariqa, or "way," was a religious movement, a return to the purity of Islam, founded by a descendant of the Prophet and deriving its name from that of his family. Sidi Mohammed ben Ali ben Es Senussi (he had a number of other names, which I have forgotten) had been a man of high principles and moral worth, who preached tolerance and forswore violence. It was foreign invasion that turned a spiritual movement into a political and military force. The French, infiltrating from the south and the west, and the Italians, attacking Cyrenaica on the north, awakened a flame of resistance in the inhabitants of the region. By 1914, the descendants of the great spiritual leader had joined forces with the Sultan. Turkish officers and Arabic-speaking Germans were supporting the Senussi in their effort to dislodge Italy from her foothold on the coast, and informed persons believed it was only a matter of time before Sidi Ahmed would be persuaded to mount an armed attack on Egypt's western border. Though Britain was ill-equipped to counter such an attack, after the heavy losses at Gallipoli, the real danger was that even a temporary success by the Senussi might cause their sympathizers in the Western Desert and the Nile Valley to rise. "Not again!" I groaned. "No, my dear. Ramses managed to control a small group of would-be revolutionaries in Cairo, but not even Kitchener would be fool enough to suppose he could single-handedly counter the influence of the Sheikh el-Senussi. I don't know precisely what sort of harebrained scheme they had in mind, but I suppose it involved sending Ramses to spy on the Senussi in one of his bizarre disguises. There's no need to worry about it, because it won't happen." "That is very interesting, Emerson, but it doesn't explain who sent that fellow Asad after Ramses." "No, it doesn't," Emerson admitted. "In fact the whole business is somewhat odd. Sidi Ahmed knew of Ramses's masquerade and it may well have been one of his people who got Asad away from Kharga, but I can't see him going out of his way to seek a petty revenge. Ramses acquitted himself well in the affair, and the Senussi admire a courageous enemy. The same is true of Sahin Bey, who is the real professional and who obviously respected a fellow professional, even if he was on the opposite side. You overheard some of the complimentary things he said about Ramses-" " 'He is a brave man and deserves a quick death.' I cannot say I find that attitude particularly reassuring, Emerson." "That's how these fellows think," said Emerson, shrugging his broad shoulders. "It's all part of the Game. He'd cut the boy's throat in a second if they crossed swords again, but I don't believe he would try to get back at him for a past defeat." "That's very consoling." "Believe me, Peabody, I am not taking this lightly. I have an idea." "Would you care to discuss it with me?" "Dear me, you are in a sarcastic mood this evening. What I propose is that we send Ramses and Nefret off to Luxor for a time. The danger, if it exists, is here in Cairo." "He won't go, not if he thinks we are trying to get him out of harm's way." "He will if we can convince him he is needed in Luxor. According to all the reports I've heard, the Gurneh tomb robbers are running wild, with no supervision of the sites. If Ramses can't round up a few of the more pertinacious lads he can put the fear of God into them-and make certain my tomb is not molested." "I see through you, Emerson!" I exclaimed. "You aren't concerned about Ramses; you are worried about your confounded tomb." "I am concerned about both," said Emerson, giving me a reproachful look. "They don't call Ramses Brother of Demons as an idle compliment; his very presence will make the lads think twice about breaking the law." "Well, it is not such a bad notion," I admitted. "It will get Ramses-and Nefret, who is equally at risk, since she won't let him out of her sight from now on-away from Cairo, and stop your ranting and raving about tomb robbing. They can sail on the Amelia. It will be like a honeymoon for them; the poor things never had one, you know, not really." "Honeymoon? With Reis Hassan and a full crew, not to mention Sennia and Basima?" "I have no intention of allowing Sennia to go with them." "Good luck," said Emerson. "I am glad you approve. I will propose the scheme tomorrow." Though we used the Amelia primarily as living quarters, she had been completely overhauled the previous spring and I did not suppose it would take long to get her ready to sail. The question of what to do about Sennia was more complex. I was determined she should not accompany Ramses and Nefret; if she went along, Gargery would go too, and so would Horus, and Basima, and in the close confines of the dahabeeyah the poor dears would have no more privacy than animals in a zoo. I wanted them to have that time alone, in the romantic ambience of which I had such fond memories. Removed from the distractions of daily life and from the attentions of their loving family, they would stand side by side at the rail watching the ripples of moonlight on the dark waters, and . . . and do whatever persons passionately attached to one another do under such conditions. Anyhow, it was time Sennia got some formal schooling. She soon would be, or had just become, six years of age. We did not know the precise date of her birth, so we had selected an arbitrary date in September on which to celebrate that anniversary. The festivities had been extravagant and well-received; more to the point, Sennia herself had announced that now she was six she was practically grown up and should be treated accordingly. This seemed an appropriate time to remind her that persons of six were old enough to attend school. I trust I will not be accused of insularity when I say that the only proper institution was the English School. Most of the others, especially the American Mission schools, had a strong religious orientation, and I knew Emerson would never stand for that-nor was I keen on having my grandniece turned into a Methodist. Methodists are worthy individuals, but we have never had one in the family. The English School was coeducational, which was another point in its favor. I do not believe in wasting time, so I went round to the school the day after my discussion with Emerson, to inform the Headmaster that our ward would be attending. He knew our family-everyone in Cairo does-and he knew about Sennia. Every gossip in Cairo did-or thought they did. When I informed him that her father was my late nephew and her mother an Egyptian woman-additional details being, in my opinion, irrelevant-his high forehead creased into rows of parallel wrinkles, and he said, without much hope, "Perhaps the-er-child would be better off at Saint Mary's." Saint Mary's English School was for "natives." "Had I believed that to be the case I would not be here," I retorted. "Kindly give me a list of the clothing and supplies she will need. I will bring her here on Monday next. Thank you." Emerson was genuinely worried about the Luxor tombs-his in particular-so it was not difficult for him to put on a convincing show of concern. We were eating our luncheon in the courtyard of the small tomb we had begun to excavate when he raised the subject for the fifth time in two days. "I'm tempted to take a quick trip to Luxor myself," he declared. "It couldn't be quick," Ramses said, watching his father bite savagely into a sandwich. "You would have to spend some time there if you were to have any lasting effect." "Quite, quite," Emerson agreed. "And it is unlikely that you would succeed in having anyone arrested. You remember what happened to Carter, after the tomb of Amenhotep II was robbed; not only did the guards state they had recognized two of the Abd er Rassul brothers, but Carter photographed the footprints of one of the thieves and found they matched those of Mohammed. Yet the court refused to convict." "I don't intend to waste time trying to get anybody arrested," said Emerson. Nefret chuckled. "You intend to beat them up, I suppose." Her fair skin glowed with the golden hue it acquired after a few days in Egypt, and her laughter was as carefree as that of a child; but I sensed she was concealing something from me. She had spent the morning at the hospital for women she had founded several years