Mr Impossible (8 page)

“
I agree that
it is bizarre,” she said. “But the two matters must be
connected. Or do you believe it is mere coincidence?”

“
No, no, yet
I hardly know what to believe.” He shook his head. “It is
shocking. I need a moment to collect my thoughts. But I am remiss.”
He indicated the coffee tray with its array of elegant silver dishes.
“Do take some refreshment, I beg. Mr. Carsington, you may be
unfamiliar with the local delicacies.”

He explained the
food while lovingly arranging a plate for Mrs. Pembroke. Less
lovingly, he prepared one for Rupert. Once this task was done, Noxley
forgot about Rupert and devoted his attention to the lady.

Rupert let his
attention wander to his surroundings. The room was entirely in the
local style. Acres ofTurkeycarpets. Plastered and whitewashed walls.
Elaborately carved and painted wooden ceiling with chandelier
suspended therefrom. High, latticed windows. Low banquettes running
along three sides of the room, heaped with pillows and cushions.
Paneled cupboards above the banquettes. Paneled doors almost but not
quite facing each other. The one they’d entered was shut; the
other stood partly open. The opening was clearly visible from where
Rupert sat. A figure moved past, then returned and hovered there. A
veiled face peeked round the edge of the door, and a dark gaze met
his.

He pretended to
study the design of his coffee cup while covertly watching the woman
watching him.

After a moment, she
grew bolder and showed more of herself. There was a great deal to
show, the veil being the only modest feature of her attire. It must
have been too heavy for her, because she dropped it once or twice.

Still, Rupert was
attuned to the conversation nearby. Mrs. Pembroke was prodding Noxley
to remember something Archdale might have said or done to cause
someone to leap to conclusions.

Noxley still seemed
bewildered. He described the small dinner party—merely three
guests besides Archdale, all English: one artist and two colonels. “I
did wonder,” he said, frowning. “Your brother’s
reason for going toGizathis time seemed odd to me. But I supposed I
must have misunderstood him. Either that or he had some private
business there he preferred to keep private.”

Rupert came to
attention. “A woman, do you mean?” he said.

Mrs. Pembroke
stared at him.

Noxley looked, too,
and his expression chilled. “I had not considered that
possibility,” he said.

“
Really?”
Rupert said. “It’s the first thing that occurred to me.”

“
Mr. Archdale
would never be so unwise as to become entangled with any of the local
women,” Lord Noxley said frigidly. “The Muslims have
strict notions of propriety, and the consequences of violating them
are severe.”

“
Those
notions don’t include the dancing girls, I’ve noticed,”
said Rupert. “From what I’ve seen—”

“
Mr.
Carsington,” Mrs. Pembroke said.

He gave her an
innocently inquiring look.

“
We seem to
be straying from the main point,” she said. “That point,
which may have eluded you, is the possibility of my brother’s
going toGizafor reasons other than those he gave me.”

“
Given your
theory about the two incidents, Mrs. Pembroke, I find myself
wondering whether Mr. Archdale did, after all, make a discovery of
some kind at the pyramids,” his lordship said. “Or
perhaps while atGizahe said or did something to arouse curiosity and
speculation. The Egyptians are formidable gossips, as you know. They
will endlessly debate the most trivial matters, elaborate on every
tale they hear, and pass it on to everyone they meet. News travels up
and down theNilewith prodigious speed. Then there are the French and
their spies watching everything we do, as though we were still at
war. They are so jealous of our accomplishments here—and we all
know their agents are not the most savory persons.”

“
The French?”
Rupert said.

“
They seem to
believe thatEgyptand all it contains be-long exclusively to them,”
Noxley said. “They are completely unscrupulous. Bribery, theft,
and even violence are nothing to them.”

“
Now here’s
something like it,” Rupert said. “Violence. Unsavory
persons. And
French
besides.” He looked at Mrs. Pembroke.
“Well, we’d best set out after the scoundrels, hadn’t
we? By the way, where exactly isGiza, and what’s so
irresistible about it?”

They both stared at
him. Mrs. Pembroke wore a comical look of wondering exasperation.

Rupert was well
aware that theGizaplateau lay across theNile. He must be blind not to
be aware. The famous pyramids were plainly visible from any number of
places in the metropolis.

He’d asked
the stupid questions just to see Mrs. Pembroke’s reaction.

“
Mrs.
Pembroke, I beg you will allow me to assist you,” said Noxley.
“I am sure the consul general wishes to do all he can to help
you, but his resources are limited.” He glanced briefly in
Rupert’s direction. “Please allow me to put my staff at
your disposal. And myself, of course. I am sure we shall get to the
bottom of this very quickly.”

Far more quickly
than Hargate’s brainless son, was politely left unsaid.

Rupert had to agree
about the brainless part. He’d blundered badly. Why should she
not discard him in favor of a man presenting clear signs of
intelligence?

And how could
Rupert blame her?

Noxious obviously
knew her brother better than Rupert did. The man had lived several
years inEgypt. He seemed to know everybody. He spoke the language.

“
Why, thank
you,” said Mrs. Pembroke. “I shall be very glad to have
your help.”

Idiot, Rupert
berated himself.
Imbecile
. Now Noxious would have all the fun
of a search with her, and Rupert would end up in the desert, looking
for rocks with writing on them that no one could read.

Then she and Noxley
began to talk, as though Rupert didn’t exist.

He gave a mental
shrug and redirected his attention to the partly open door. The dusky
beauty lingered still.

What a hypocrite
Noxious was, acting so prim when Rupert spoke of dancing girls, when
a member of his lordship’s harem stood only a few yards away,
half-naked and clearly objecting to her lord and master’s
attention being diverted elsewhere.

She disappeared and
reappeared at intervals, looking more and more vexed at each
reappearance.

Watching her,
Rupert only half-heard the conversation nearby. Noxley had some
people he promised to talk to, starting with the men who’d come
to dinner the other night. He’d send some servants out to
collect the latest street gossip. He’d call on some district
sheiks.

He summoned a
servant and gave orders in Arabic. Mrs. Pembroke chimed in.

The servant exited.

Then it was time to
leave.

A good deal more
subdued than when he set out, Rupert escorted her home. He was
vaguely aware of its being later than he’d supposed. He
wondered how long they’d been at Noxious’s.

“
Weren’t
we going elsewhere?” he said as they reached her street.

“
Weren’t
you paying attention?” she said. “Lord Noxley is going to
call on the others. It is very good of him. I had not realized how
tired I was until now. But I never slept at all last night. I must
have a proper night’s rest. I shall be no good at all
inGizaotherwise.”

“
Ah, so
you’re going toGiza,” Rupert said wistfully. He would
like to explore the inside of a pyramid, especially with her. He’d
heard the passageways were dark and narrow.

“
Yes, well,
he doesn’t know that,” she said.

Rupert turned
sharply toward her. But there was the hateful veil, hiding her
expressive face. “How can he not know?” he said. “He’ll
see you there.”

“
Lord
Noxley?” she said.

“
Who else?”
Rupert said.

“
But he’s
not going toGiza,” she said.

“
He’s
not?”

“
No,”
she said. “You are.”

They arrived at her
door. “I am?” Rupert said stupidly.

She let out a long
sigh. “Really, Mr. Carsington, I wish you would try to attend.
Surely you heard him. He is like Vir—like Miles. They think
women—Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t
need to know, and you wouldn’t understand. But do pay attention
now. You are taking me with you toGiza, no matter what he says. You
are to come and collect me tomorrow at daybreak. Is that clear?”

“
Clear as a
bell,” Rupert said.

He saw her safely
indoors, left the house, and with a wave at Wadid, passed through the
gate and set off down the street, whistling.

ONCE MRS. PEMBROKE
had gone, all the sunshine went out of his lordship’s
countenance.

Asheton Noxley
liked to have things his way—exactly his way. This wasn’t
easy anywhere. InEgypt, it was particularly difficult because people
here—even, or perhaps especially, Europeans—acted
according to no known rules of civilized behavior.

Very early in his
stay he had learnt that official documents became increasingly
meaningless the farther away one was from the official who’d
provided them. For instance, the pasha might give him the exclusive
right to excavate at such and such a place or to remove this or that
object. But if the site was in, say, Thebes, and the pasha four
hundred fifty miles away in Cairo at the time, the one who actually
got to excavate was the one who either paid the local officials the
largest bribes or produced the largest band of thugs and ruffians to
insure his rights.

Lord Noxley had
found local officials unreliable. They accepted bribes from rival
parties. They were accommodating one day and obstructive the next.
They withheld workers, food, and boats when the mood struck them.

Consequently, he
had amassed a large band of men he could depend upon to make people
behave as they ought.

He now employed
agents in most of the major villages betweenAlexandriaand the Second
Cataract.

Though Miles
Archdale and his handsome sister didn’t know about it, his
lordship was making arrangements for them, too. His lordship was
cultivating the brother, reputed to be one of those nearest to
unlocking the secrets of the ancient script. They would make an ideal
team, Lord Nox-ley believed. Together they would unearth a great
find, greater than anything Belzoni had discovered.

Equally important,
Lord Noxley would make the sister his viscountess. He’d wanted
her from the first moment he saw her because she, rather like the
papyrus her brother had bought, was a rarity.

Countless beauties
inEnglandhad thrown themselves at him, and he’d had his pick of
their exotic counterparts inEgypt. Mrs. Pembroke had no counterpart.

She was not pretty,
not beautiful. He was not sure she was handsome. But her face was
striking and her figure magnificent, and she was as rich as Croesus.
Moreover, she was conveniently
here
. His lordship need not return toEnglandto renew the tedious search
for a suitable bride. He could remain inEgyptfor years. When he did
return, it would be to great fame and honors.

But someone had
disrupted his plans. Archdale, one of the world’s great
linguists, might be in deadly peril. Meanwhile the Earl of Hargate’s
hellion son was sniffing about the future Viscountess Noxley’s
skirts.

Lord Noxley sent
for his agent Ghazi, who arrived within the hour.

Ghazi was his
lordship’s right-hand assassin.

Lord Noxley told
him what had happened and asked why he was one of the last to know.

“
I will send
men to Old Cairo,” Ghazi said. “They will discover who
took your friend. But it is very strange. One day they steal the man.
This I understand. They do it for a ransom. But today they steal a
papyrus? This I do not understand. The merchant Vanni Anaz has an
endless supply. He has men who make them, too. The peasants sell them
in all the villages. Why go to the trouble of stealing?”

Lord Noxley
explained.

“
Ah,”
said Ghazi. “But is it true?”