Guardian of the Horizon - Elizabeth Peters [155]
The modus operandi was only too familiar. Suspicion turned to certainty when Ramses asked the man’s name.
“Petrie,” said Tarek. “He brought me one of his books.”
Daria was awake when Ramses returned, drawing a comb through the long strands of her hair. Her worried frown turned to a smile. “It needs to be washed—and so do I!—but I did not think I should do that here.”
“This is only a barracks for the guard,” Ramses said. “Tarek will take you to his villa, where you will have all possible comforts. He means to leave almost at once.”
He sat down beside her and took her feet in his hands. “They look better. But you won’t have to walk, they are arranging a litter for you.”
“For me?” Her eyes narrowed. “What about you?”
“I must go back.” He stilled her incipient protest with a finger to her lips, stroked her cheek and temples. “Tarek and I have worked out a plan, and—”
“You are going back for her.”
“That’s part of the plan, yes, if it can be done.” She turned her head away from his caressing hand, and he said in surprise, “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t want you to leave me. What if you don’t ever come back?” She slid onto his lap and wound her arms round his neck, raising a pleading face to his.
“I’ll come back, I promise.” He kissed her parted lips. “But I must go, darling, I need to explain the plan to my parents so that they will know when and how to act, and fill them in on the situation here. I’ve just learned something that worries me a great deal.”
“There is something I must tell you. About Newcomb, and why I—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s all right.”
“You don’t understand! Let me go with you. I can help.”
The pretty, pleading look moved him, but he felt a faint touch of irritation. “I can’t, you must know that. Tarek will take care of you.”
A tactful shuffle of feet outside the door interrupted him. Tarek asked for his permission, and Daria’s, before he entered.
“You see?” Ramses said. “He is a courteous, honorable man. You are as safe with him as you would be with me.”
Her response convinced Ramses once again that he would never understand women. A faint smile curved the lips that only a moment before had been quivering pathetically, and the look she turned on Tarek was one of cool appraisal. He smiled back at her and inclined his head in salute. He was an impressive figure with his straight, muscular body and finely cut features and candid black eyes.
“You will be safe with me, lady,” he assured her. It had the solemnity of an oath.
Ramses saw them off, along the well-traveled road that led to the villages and villas of the northern section. Perched regally on the litter carried by two of Tarek’s men, Daria did not look back. Ramses wondered if he would ever see her again. If he had miscalculated, he would probably be dead before morning.
Tarek had bade him an emotional farewell, as if he fully expected that unfortunate event would occur. Ramses refused Harsetef’s offer to accompany him, but agreed to wait until Tarek’s scouts could be notified that he was coming over the pass. As he made his way up the inner slope, the declining sun cast a mellow glow across the rugged landscape.
He had had plenty of time to think about Tarek’s news. It certainly hadn’t been the distinguished and aging Flinders Petrie who had visited Tarek. Only one man would have had the imaginative effrontery to use that name. What name, Ramses wondered, was he using now? MacFerguson? Moroney? It had to be one of them, the idea that there were two other Englishman in addition to Sethos at large in the Holy City was ludicrous. He had remembered who MacFerguson was—or was not. The ears, Ramses thought, the god-damned ears! One of the basic rules of disguise, a feature so prominent that it drew the eyes away from the rest of the face. Sethos must be MacFerguson. That he was now comfortably in league with the usurper Ramses did not doubt. He would have dealt with Satan if it meant profit