He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [39]
“Shall I drive, Father?”
Emerson said no, of course, so the young people got in the tonneau and I took my place beside my husband. At my request he drove more slowly than usual, so that we could converse.
“Did Percy really snatch a live grenade from the hand of a terrorist?” I inquired.
“Don’t know,” said Emerson, pounding on the horn. A bicylist wobbled frantically out of our way and Emerson went on, “When I arrived, a pleasant little skirmish was already in process. Ramses—who was slightly in advance of me—and Percy were fending off the presumed anarchist and a mob of his supporters armed with sticks and bricks. Most of them dropped their weapons and scampered off when our reinforcement arrived, although, . . .” Emerson coughed modestly.
“The scampering began as soon as they recognized you,” I suggested. “Well, my dear, that is not surprising. What is surprising is that the leader had grenades, and the others only sticks and stones.”
“I don’t believe the others were involved,” Emerson said. “They pitched in out of sympathy when they saw an Egyptian attacked by soldiers. It was a singularly amateurish attempt; the first grenade only blew a hole in the pavement and wounded a donkey.” He turned his head and shouted, “Did you recognize the fellow, Ramses?”
“No, sir. Sir—that cab—”
Emerson yanked at the brake. “Nor did I. He looked like a harmless tradesman. A more important question is where he obtained modern weapons.”
“The police will undoubtedly wring the answer from him,” I said grimly.
“Don’t be melodramatic, Peabody. This isn’t the Egypt we once knew; even in the provinces the kurbash has been outlawed and torture forbidden.”
Emerson swerved wildly around a camel. Camels do not yield the right of way to anyone, even Emerson. I clutched at my hat and uttered a mild remonstrance.
“It was the fault of the camel,” said Emerson. “All right back there, Nefret?”
“Yes, Professor.”
It was the only sentence either of the children had uttered, nor did they speak during the rest of the drive. Emerson said only one thing more. “All the same, Peabody, someone had better find out how that fellow laid his hands on those grenades. Where there are two, there may be more.”
From Manuscript H
I must be getting old, Ramses thought. It’s becoming more difficult to remember, from one encounter to the next, precisely who I’m supposed to be.
A glance in the long mirror next to the divan where he sat reassured him: gray hair, lined face, fez, a flashy stickpin, and hands loaded with rings. There were a lot of mirrors in the room, not to mention beaded hangings, soft cushions, and furniture so heavily gilded it glowed even in the dim light. In the distance, muffled by the heavy velvet hangings over windows and doors, he heard women’s voices raised in laughter, and the thump of music. The air was close and hot and heavy with a musky perfume.
Invisible hands drew the hangings aside and a figure entered. It was draped in filmy white fabric that fluttered as it waddled toward him. Ramses remained seated. The precise etiquette would have been difficult to determine, but whatever else el-Gharbi might be, he was not a woman. He was, however, in absolute control of the brothels in el Was’a.
The huge figure settled itself onto the divan next to Ramses, who wrinkled his nose involuntarily as a wave of patchouli wafted round him. El-Gharbi didn’t miss much. His round black face broadened in amusement.
“My perfume offends you? It is very rare and expensive.”
“Tastes differ,” said Ramses, in his own voice. El-Gharbi knew who he was. The disguise was only a precaution, in case he was seen entering the place.
He waited with the patience he had acquired through long experience in Egypt while the formal litanies of greeting were exchanged. May God grant you a good evening; how is your health? God bless you; and finally a courteous and conventional, My house is your house.
“Beiti beitak, Brother of Demons. I never thought I would have the honor of entertaining you here.”
“You know I didn’t come here for entertainment,