Children of the Storm - Elizabeth Peters [80]
“What, is it time for tea already?” he asked when we entered the shop. “I am at your disposal, ladies; Omar has nothing of interest except this amulet of Isis, for which he is asking too much.”
His eyes twinkling, Omar let out a heartrending groan. “Too much? I let you have it for nothing, for less than I paid!”
“I presume you have been asking about jewelry in general and bracelets in particular,” I said, after we had bade Omar farewell—without purchasing the amulet.
“I put out a few feelers,” David admitted, offering me his arm. “Cyrus seems to be resigned to his loss, but I am mystified at how Martinelli and his loot could have disappeared without a trace.”
“It is not difficult to lose oneself in the teeming tenements of Cairo, my dear, as you ought to know. I do not doubt that he went there. If he had remained in Luxor we would have located him by now.”
The Winter Palace enjoyed an unparalleled view from its raised terraces, straight across the river to the cliffs of the West Bank. They shone pink in the rays of the declining sun, and the river blazed all shades of crimson and scarlet with reflected sunset. Ramses was waiting for us.
“Where is your father?” I asked.
“He stopped off at Cook’s.” He resumed his chair and beckoned a waiter. “They handle most of the tours, so perhaps they can be more effective than the police at controlling the hunters in their parties.”
Nefret chuckled. “Lia, what do you say we run down and listen at the door? I do love hearing Father read someone the riot act.”
Lia laughed, and Ramses said, “You are in a cheerful mood this evening, Nefret. What have you and Mother been doing?”
Nefret began regaling them with a vivacious description of our visit to Mrs. Fitzroyce. She was interrupted after a few sentences by the arrival of Emerson, and, at his request, began again at the beginning.
“I knew you went there,” said Emerson to me.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I ordered you a whiskey and soda, Father,” Ramses said, in what he must have known was a vain attempt to prevent Emerson from continuing the argument. “I trust that is satisfactory.”
“Thank you, my boy. Yes, I did. And,” said Emerson triumphantly, “I will tell you how I knew. We met Daoud outside the zabtiyeh, on his way to his cousin’s house, and—”
“He saw us go to the Isis or someone who had seen us reported to him,” I finished. “Daoud is better than a newspaper at disseminating information. By now all of Luxor knows where we have been, and where we mean to be for every minute of the remainder of the evening!”
“What’s the harm in that?” David asked.
We were soon to find out.
Enjoying one another’s companionship and exchanging greetings with friends, we passed a carefree evening; but shortly before ten I reminded the others that we had agreed to meet Daoud at that hour. He did not own a watch, but he could tell time quite accurately by the sun and the stars (and by asking other people), and he was punctilious about keeping appointments. Sure enough, he came hurrying to meet us as soon as we reached the dock. Several other boats bobbed at their moorings, but there was no one in sight except for our party. The night air was cool, and there was a rather stiff breeze. After we had crossed into the boat and taken our places, Daoud pulled in the gangplank, which was nothing more or less than a plank, approximately eight inches wide and as many feet long.
It was a lovely night for a sail. The moon, near the full, cast silvery ripples across the water, and the stars were very bright. We were several hundred yards from shore when I became aware of an uncomfortable coolness on the soles of my feet. Before I could comment, the coldness rose over instep and ankle.
“Dear me,” I remarked, “I do believe we have sprung a leak.”
“I do believe you are correct,” said Emerson calmly, as water enveloped our ankles. The others drew their feet up with exclamations of alarm, and Daoud, who had been preoccupied with sail and tiller, let out a loud cry.
“It is not possible! The boat