He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [13]
At any rate, I told myself firmly, none of them was Sethos.
Emerson has never been one to beat around the bush. He waited only until after we had ordered before he remarked, “Well, Russell, what’s on your mind, eh? If you want me to persuade Ramses to join the CID, you are wasting your time. His mother won’t hear of it.”
“Neither will he,” Russell said with a wry smile. “There’s no use trying to deceive you, Professor, so if the ladies will excuse us for talking business—”
“I would rather you talked business than nonsense, Mr. Russell,” I said with some asperity.
“You are right, ma’am. I should know better.”
He sampled the wine the waiter had poured into his glass and nodded approval. While our glasses were being filled, his eyes focused on Nefret, and a frown wrinkled his forehead. She was the picture of a proper young lady—pretty and innocent and harmless. The low-cut bodice of her gown bared her white throat; gems twinkled on her breast and in the red-gold hair that crowned her small head. One would never have supposed that those slender hands were more accustomed to hold a scalpel than a fan, or that she could fend off an attacker more effectively than most men.
She knew what Russell was thinking, and met his doubtful gaze squarely.
“A number of people in Cairo will tell you I am no lady, Mr. Russell. You needn’t mince words with me. It’s Ramses, isn’t it? What’s he done now?”
“Nothing that I know of, except make himself thoroughly disliked,” Russell said. “Oh, the devil with—excuse me, Miss Forth.”
She laughed at him, and his stern face relaxed into a sheepish grin. “As I was about to say—I may as well be honest with all of you. Yes, I did approach Ramses. I believe there is not an intelligence organization in Egypt, military or civilian, that has not tried to get him! I had no more luck than the others. But he could be of particular value to me in capturing that fellow Wardani. You all know who he is, I presume.”
Emerson nodded. “The leader of the Young Egypt Party, and the only one of the nationalists who is still at large. You managed to round up all the others—including my niece’s husband, David Todros.”
“I don’t blame you for resenting that,” Russell said quietly. “But it had to be done. We daren’t take chances with that lot, Professor. They believe their hope of independence lies in the defeat of Britain, and they will collaborate with our enemies in order to bring it about.”
“But what can they do?” Nefret asked. “They are scattered and imprisoned.”
“So long as Wardani is on the loose, they can do a great deal of damage.” Russell leaned forward. “He is their leader, intelligent, charismatic and fanatical; he has already gathered new lieutenants to replace the ones we arrested. You know the Sultan has declared a jihad, a holy war, against unbelievers. The mass of the fellahin are apathetic or afraid, but if Wardani can stir up the students and intellectuals, we may find ourselves fighting a guerrilla war here in Cairo while the Turks attack the Canal. Wardani is the key. Without him, the movement will collapse. I want him. And I think you can help me to get him.”
Emerson had been calmly eating his soup. “Excellent,” he remarked. “Shepheard’s always does a superb potage à la duchesse.”
“Are you trying to annoy me, Professor?” Russell asked.
“Why, no,” said Emerson. “But I’m not going to help you find Wardani either.”
Russell was not easily roused to anger. He studied Emerson thoughtfully. “You are in sympathy with his aims? Yes, well, that doesn’t surprise me. But even you must admit, Professor, that