He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [56]
“I know, my dear. Perhaps you can be soon.”
“I hope so. A few more weeks will tell the tale. By then we will have succeeded or failed.”
“That is a relief,” I said, trying not to think about the second alternative. “Now, David, start at the beginning.”
David hesitated, looked at me, and sighed. “Oh, well, I’ve never been able to keep anything from you, have I? Ramses has been playing the role of a certain person—”
“Kamil el-Wardani? Aha, I thought I must be right. But why?”
“The Germans and the Turks are hoping to provoke an uprising in Cairo, to coincide with their attack on the Canal. If any man could bring such a thing off, it is Wardani. They approached him first last April. Oh, yes, they knew war was imminent, and they knew Turkey would come in; there was a secret treaty signed in early August. They think ahead, these Germans. I got wind of the plan from Wardani himself, so of course I told Ramses.”
“It must have been difficult, betraying the confidence of a friend.” I added quickly, “You were absolutely right to do so, of course.”
“Ramses is more than my friend. He is my brother. And there were other reasons. For all his rhetorical bombast, Wardani was not a believer in violent revolution when I joined the movement. He had changed. He kept talking about blood being necessary to water the tree of liberty. . . . It made me sick to hear him. A revolt could not have succeeded, but before it was put down, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of deluded patriots and innocent bystanders would have been slaughtered. I want independence for my country, Aunt Amelia, but not at that price.”
I had long admired David’s strength of character; now, as I studied his thin brown face and sensitive but resolute lips, I was so moved I took his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “My dear,” I said. “You learned of Lia’s expectations, so greatly desired by you both, in September. You could have withdrawn from the scheme then. No one would have blamed you.”
“Ramses urged me to do so. We had quite an argument about it, in fact. He didn’t give in until I threatened to tell Lia the whole story and ask her to make the decision. He knew she’d insist I stand by him. He’s walking a tightrope, Aunt Amelia; there’s a river filled with crocodiles under it, and vultures hovering overhead, and now it looks as if somebody is sawing at the rope.”
“Poetic but uninformative, my dear,” I said uneasily. “Precisely who is after him?”
“Everybody. Except for the few people who are in on the secret, every police officer in Cairo is trying to arrest Wardani. The Germans and the Turks are using him for their own ends; they’d do away with him in an instant if they thought he was playing a double game. Then there are the hotheads in the movement itself. He has to keep them inactive without arousing their suspicions. If they believed he had softened toward the British they would—they would find another leader.”
“Kill him, you mean.”
“They would call it an execution. And of course if they ever learned his real identity, that would be the end of him.”
“And of you. David,” I cried, “it is insane for you and Ramses to take these risks! You said yourself that Wardani is the only man who could lead a successful revolt. Let it be known that he has been captured. His followers will be left leaderless and ineffectual, Ramses will be safe, and you can sail at once for England, and Lia. A pardon or amnesty can be arranged—”
“That is what will happen eventually. But it can’t be done just yet.”
“Why not?”
“The enemy has begun supplying Wardani with arms—rifles, pistols, grenades, possibly machine guns. We must hang on until we get those weapons into our hands, and find out how and by whom they are being brought into Cairo.”
I caught my breath. “Of course! I ought to have realized.”
“Well, yes, you ought,” David said, with an affectionate smile. “Without arms there can’t be a revolution, only