He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [136]
“What happened, curse it?” I demanded.
“What happened where?” Emerson tried to free himself from my grasp.
“You know where,” I hissed—or would have done, had that phrase contained any sibilants. “Something about Ramses? Tell me, Emerson, I can bear anything but ignorance!”
“Oh.” Emerson’s heavy brows drew apart and his eyes softened. “You are on the wrong track entirely, my dear. The situation is no worse than it was; in fact it has been made safer by the removal of that wretched man. Maxwell assured me that the police will act within a fortnight, as soon as the final shipment of arms is delivered.”
“A fortnight! Two more weeks of this?”
“Perhaps we can shorten it.”
I waited for him to go on. Instead he put his arm round me and pressed his lips to my temple, the end of my nose, and my mouth.
Yes, Professor, I thought—perhaps we can. And if you think you can distract me you are sadly in error.
However, I am not childish enough to reciprocate in kind when someone tries to deceive me. I bided my time until we stopped work for the day. The serdab contained not one but four statues, all crammed together in that confined space. They were of private individuals—the tomb owner and his family—so they were not of the same superb quality as the statue of Khafre we had found in the shaft, but they had a naive charm of their own, and all were in excellent condition. Leaving them half-buried for their own protection, we started for home, while several of our trustiest men remained on guard. Ramses also remained, ostensibly to discuss security measures with the men. He would go directly from Giza to his assignation.
In point of fact, there was no way on earth I could keep Emerson entirely in the dark concerning my plans for the evening. If he did not observe my absence and Nefret’s earlier, he would certainly do so when he discovered he was alone at the dinner table. I therefore determined to give him a (very slightly) modified account of the truth when we were alone. It is always good policy to go on the attack when one’s own position is somewhat vulnerable, so I began by asking him what he had meant by suggesting that there might be a method of ending Ramses’s masquerade earlier than Maxwell had said.
He was in the bath at the time. Let me add that my choice of location was not an attempt to undermine his confidence. Most individuals become self-conscious and uneasy when they are unclothed. This has never been one of Emerson’s weaknesses. One might even claim . . .
But I perceive that I am wandering off the subject. Having assumed undergarments and dressing gown, I went to the bath chamber, which is in the Turkish style. I had caused cushions to be placed round the bath itself, and I settled myself on one of these before addressing my spouse.
The pleased smile with which he had welcomed my appearance vanished. “I might have known you would not let the subject drop,” he remarked.
“Yes, you might. Well?”
Emerson reached for the soap. “As you have no doubt realized, locating the supply lines would enable us to intercept and catch the people who are bringing the weapons to Cairo. I am fairly familiar with the Eastern Desert, and I have a theory as to the most likely route. I thought I might ride out that way and have a look round.”
It was an idea that had not occurred to me. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “Hmmm. You cannot get all the way to Suez and back in a single day.”
“I don’t plan to go all the way. It will mean an early start, though, and I may be late returning.”
“You won’t go alone?”
“Certainly not, my dear. I will take Ramses, if he chooses to come.”
“Emerson, are you going to use that entire bar of soap?”
Except for his head, the parts of him above water were white with soap bubbles. Emerson grinned. “Cleanliness is next to godliness, my dear. Here, catch.”
The bar of soap slipped through my hands, and by the time I had retrieved it and replaced it in the proper receptacle, Emerson had submerged himself and was