He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [121]
“So it was a trick after all?” I muttered.
Emerson unfastened the heavy money belt and tossed it onto the table. “I wish I knew. He could have eluded us that night; why would he offer an exchange and then renege? Come and sit down, my dear, I know you have been under quite a strain. Would you like a whiskey and soda?”
“No. Well . . .”
Ramses went to the sideboard. “Would you care for something, Nefret?”
“No, thank you.” She sat down and lifted Seshat onto her lap.
“He told Emerson to come alone,” I said, taking the glass Ramses handed me. “If he saw you—”
“He did not see me.” Ramses does not often venture to interrupt me. I forgave him when I saw his hooded eyes and the lines of strain that bracketed his mouth. He was wearing a suit of dull brown he had recently purchased in Cairo; when I came across it in his wardrobe (in the process of collecting things to be laundered or cleaned), I had wondered why he had selected such an unbecoming shade, almost the same color as his tanned face. I ought to have realized. With the coat buttoned up to his throat he would be virtually invisible at night.
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “Please sit down.”
“Thank you, I would rather not.”
He removed his coat. I let out an involuntary cry of surprise. “You are carrying a gun. I thought you never—”
“Do you suppose I would sacrifice Father’s safety to my principles?” He unbuckled the straps that held the holster in place under his left arm and placed the whole contraption carefully down on a table. “I assure you, it was not an idle boast when I said Farouk could not have seen me. Darkness was complete before I reached Maadi, and I spent the next three hours roosting in a tree. There was the usual nocturnal traffic—the occupants of the new villas coming and going in their carriages, the less-distinguished residents on foot. By the time Father got there, no one had come near the house for over an hour. Mahira goes to bed at sundown. I could hear her snoring.”
Emerson took up the tale. “Knowing Ramses would have warned me off if Farouk had played us false, I stood under the damned tree, with my back against the wall of the house. Since I could not strike a light to look at my watch, I had no idea how much time had passed; it seemed like a year before Ramses slid down to the ground and spoke to me.”
“How did you know the time?” I asked Ramses, who was prowling restlessly round the room.
“Radium paint on the hands and numerals of my watch. It glows faintly in the dark.”
Nefret had been stroking the cat, who permitted this familiarity with her usual air of condescension. Now Nefret said, “Perhaps this evening was a test, to make certain you would meet his demands.”
“That is possible,” Ramses agreed. “In which case he will communicate with us again.”
He swayed a little, and caught hold of the back of a chair. Nefret removed the cat from her lap. “I am going to bed. The rest of you had better do the same.”
I waited until the door had closed before I went to Ramses. “Now tell me the truth. Were you hurt? Was your father injured?”
“I did tell you the truth,” Ramses said, with such an air of righteous indignation that I could not help smiling. “It happened just as we said, Mother. I am only a little tired.”
“And disappointed,” said Emerson, who had lit his pipe and was puffing away with great satisfaction. “Ah. All those hours without the comforting poison of nicotine added to my misery. Devil take it, Peabody, it was a blow.”
“It will be a blow to David too,” Ramses said. “I do not look forward to telling—Mother, put that down! There is a shell in the chamber.”
“My finger was not on the trigger,” I protested.
He took the weapon from my hands, and Emerson, who had leaped to his feet, sat down with a gusty sigh. “Don’t even think about ‘borrowing’ that pistol, Peabody. It is far too heavy for you.”
“Quite an ingenious contrivance,” I said, examining the holster. “Is this a spring inside? Ouch.”
“As you see,” said Ramses.
“Your invention?”
“My refinement of someone else’s invention.”
“Could