He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [102]
“He saw me, I think,” Emerson said in a satisfied voice. “After me, Peabody. Bring up the rear, Ramses, if you please.”
“Shouldn’t we tell the police?” I asked.
“No use now, they’d never track him in this maze.”
“But we can!” Nefret exclaimed. She was panting with excitement.
“We may not have to,” Emerson said.
Emerson thought he was being enigmatic and mysterious, but of course I knew what he meant. I always know what Emerson means. He had deliberately made a target of himself so the fugitive would see him and, as Emerson hoped, be willing to deal with him. Honesty and integrity, as I have always said, have practical advantages. Every man in Cairo knew that when the Father of Curses gave his word he would keep it.
As it turned out, Emerson’s hope was justified. After we had squeezed through the passageway, where Emerson and Ramses had to go sideways, we emerged into a wider way and saw a shadow slip into the darker shadows of what appeared to be a doorway but was, in fact, another narrow street.
The Hoshasheyn district is a survival of medieval Cairo, and indeed most medieval cities must have been like it—dark, odorous, mazelike. Our quarry led us a merry dance, keeping close enough to be seen but not to be apprehended. Our progress was slightly impeded by Seshat, who in her eagerness to follow the fugitive (or possibly a rat) kept winding her lead round our limbs, until Ramses picked her up and returned her to his shoulder, gripping her collar with one hand. Emerson used his torch only when it was absolutely necessary. At last we came out into a small square. A fountain tinkled, like raindrops in the night.
“There,” I cried, pointing to a door that stood ajar. Light showed through the opening.
“Hmmm,” said Emerson, stroking his chin. “It has the look of a trap.”
“It is,” Ramses said. “He’s there. By the door. He has a gun.”
Farouk stepped into view. He did indeed have a gun. “So it is true, as they say of the Brother of Demons, that he can see in the dark. I was waiting for you.”
“Why?” inquired Emerson.
“I am willing to come to terms.”
“Excellent,” I exclaimed. “Come with us, then, and we—”
“No, no, Sitt Hakim, I am not such a fool as that.” He switched to English, as if he were demonstrating his intellectual abilities. “Come in. Close the door and bar it.”
“What do you think?” Emerson inquired, looking at Ramses.
“In my opinion,” I began.
“I did not ask your opinion, Peabody.”
Farouk was showing signs of strain. “Stop talking and do as I say! Do you want the information I can give you or not?”
“Yes,” Nefret said. Before any of us could stop her she had entered the room. Farouk backed up a few steps. He kept the pistol leveled at her breast.
The rest of us followed, naturally. The room was small and low ceilinged and very dirty. A single lamp cast a smoky light. Emerson closed the door and dropped the bar into place. “Make your proposal,” he said softly. “I lose patience very quickly when someone threatens my daughter.”
“Do you suppose I don’t know that?” The light was dim, but I saw that Farouk’s face was shining with perspiration. “I would not be fool enough to harm her, or any of you, unless you force me to, nor am I fool enough to go on with a game that is becoming dangerous to me. Now listen. In exchange for what I can tell you I want two things: immunity and money. You will bring the money with you when we next meet. A thousand English pounds in gold.”
“A large sum,” Emerson mused.
“You will think it low when you hear what I have to say. She has it. Will you pay it, Nur Misur?”
“Yes,” she said quickly.
“Just a minute, Nefret,” Emerson said. “Before you agree to a bargain you had better make certain what it is you are paying for. The whereabouts of Kamil el-Wardani are not worth a thousand pounds to us or even to the police.”
“I have a bigger fish than that to put on your hook. Wardani is a pike, but I will give you a shark.”
“Well-read chap, isn’t he?” Emerson inquired of me.
“Do you agree or not?” Farouk demanded. “If you are trying to