He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [103]
“Furthest thing from my mind,” said Emerson.
“We agree,” Nefret exclaimed. “Where and when shall we deliver the money?”
“Tomorrow night . . . No. The night after. At an hour before midnight. There is a certain house in Maadi. . . .”
Seshat let out a strangled mew and turned her head to stare accusingly at Ramses. He put her on the floor and straightened to face Farouk. The young villain’s lips had parted in a pleased smile. “You know the place,” he said.
“I know it,” Emerson said.
Farouk’s smile broadened. “You will come alone, Father of Curses.”
“I think not,” Ramses said. “Why should we trust you?”
“What good would it do me to kill him, even if I could? I will have the money, and his promise that he will not tell the police for three days. I will trust his word for that. He is known to be a man of honor.”
“Flattering,” said Emerson. “Very well, I will be there.”
“Good.”
Nefret was closer to him than the rest of us. He had only to put out his arm. It wrapped round her and pulled her hard against his body.
I tightened my grip on Emerson, but for once it was Ramses whose temper got the better of his common sense. Quickly as he moved, the other man was ready for him. The barrel of the gun caught him across the side of the head and sent him sprawling.
“Stop it!” Nefret cried. “I’ll go with him. Please, Professor! Ramses, are you all right?”
Ramses sat up. A dark trail of blood trickled down his cheek. “No. But I deserved it. Damned fool thing to do. If she comes to harm—”
“If she is injured it will be your fault,” Farouk snarled. “I only want her as a hostage, in case I am cornered by the police. You had better pray that I am not.”
“If it proves necessary we will head them off,” Emerson said. The arm I held felt like stone, but his voice was unnaturally calm. “If she is not back within an hour—”
“I have never known people who talked so much,” Farouk cried hysterically. “Stop talking! Go to the west gate of the Khan el Khalili and wait. She will come. In an hour! In the name of God, do not talk any more!”
He backed through the hanging at the other side of the room, pulling her with him.
“Don’t even think of following,” I said, as Ramses got to his feet.
“No,” said Emerson. “He’s on the edge of hysteria already. Ramses, that was a damned fool thing to do. Not that I blame you. I might have done the same if your mother had not had me in a firm grip.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Ramses said. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. I offered him my handkerchief, which he took without acknowledging or even appearing to notice it. “You have better sense.”
“Where is Seshat?” I asked, looking round the room.
“Gone after them, do you think?” Emerson asked.
“I don’t know,” Ramses said. “And at the moment I don’t much care. Let’s go.”
It took us some time to make our way to the western gate of the Khan, which was now closed. The lanes were uncommonly deserted, even for that time of night. Evidently the police had gone in another direction, or had abandoned the hunt. There was a coffee shop under the tiled arch across from the entrance; we sat down on the wooden bench outside, the occupants having politely or prudently departed when they saw us. Emerson asked what I would like.
“Whiskey,” I said grimly. “But I will settle for tea.”
“She’ll be all right,” Ramses said. The trail of dried blood looked like a scar. I pried my handkerchief from his fingers and dipped it in the glass of water the waiter had brought.
“He did not strike me as a killer,” I said.
“Oh, he’s a killer, all right,” Ramses said. “But he won’t injure someone who has promised to give him a thousand pounds.”
Emerson took out his watch. It was the third time he had done so since we sat down, and I informed him I would smash the confounded thing if he did it again. Ramses sat like a block of stone while I cleaned his face. Then he said, “While we are waiting we may as well get our story straight. Do you think she suspects our presence at Aslimi’s was no accident?”
“Probably,” said Emerson,