He Shall Thunder in the Sky - Elizabeth Peters [86]
David grasped his outstretched hand and then motioned toward the open window. “How did it go?”
“No trouble. I hope you didn’t wait up for me last night.”
They spoke in the low voices that were less carrying than whispers. Once they were inside the room, David said, “I was watching for you, but I didn’t really suppose you’d be able to get away from Aunt Amelia. Was Farouk there tonight?”
“Mmmm. Innocent as a cherub and sticking to his story. The next delivery is Tuesday, the old mosque near Burckhardt’s tomb. David, it has occurred to me, somewhat belatedly, that you had better find new quarters. If Father knows about this place, it may be known to others.”
“A man came here yesterday. A stranger.”
“Damnation! What did he look like?”
“I wasn’t here. Mahira couldn’t give me much of a description; the poor old girl is as blind as a mole and getting more senile by the day.”
“That settles it. We’re leaving now, tonight. You ought to have vacated the premises as soon as you heard.”
“You wouldn’t have known where I was.”
“And you wanted to make certain there was no one lying in wait for me when I came? David, please do me the favor of trying not to get yourself killed on my account. I’ve enough on my conscience as it is.”
“I’m doing my best.” David put a hand on Ramses’s shoulder. “Where shall I go?”
“I’ll leave that to you. Some safe, flea-ridden hovel in Old Cairo or Boulaq, I suppose. God, I hate doing this to you.”
“Not as much as I hate doing it.” David had gathered his scanty possessions and was tying them into a bundle. “You know what I miss most? A proper bath. I dream of lying in that tub of Aunt Amelia’s, with hot water up to my chin.”
“Not the food? Mother wanted me to bring you a parcel of leftover turkey and plum pudding.”
“Fatima’s plum pudding?” David sighed wistfully. “Couldn’t you have secreted a small slice under your shirt?”
“Yes, right. I’d have had rather a time explaining that, if it had tumbled onto the floor while I was kicking Farouk’s feet out from under him.”
David stopped halfway out the window and turned to stare at him. “I thought you said nothing happened.”
“Nothing of importance. Go on, I’m getting edgy.”
David took him across the river in the small boat they had acquired for that purpose. On the way Ramses explained what had happened with Farouk.
“Reasonable behavior, I suppose,” David admitted, pulling at the oars. “They must have been rather worried.”
“Yes. Farouk is the only one of the lot who has any fighting instincts. Poor old Asad was petrified. I hope I can get him out of this and talk some sense into him. He’s a braver man than Farouk. He’s afraid all the time, and yet he sticks.”
And you’re a braver man than I am, Ramses thought, watching his friend bend and straighten with the oars. If I had a wife who adored me and a child on the way, I wouldn’t have risked myself in a stunt like this one.
For a few seconds the soft splash of water was the only thing that broke the silence. Then Ramses said thoughtfully, “Farouk made one little slip tonight. He claimed the man who fired first used a rifle. But the first shot wasn’t from a rifle, it was from a pistol, like the ones that followed, and if Farouk was aiming at someone other than me, he was a damned poor shot. It’s not absolute proof, but I think we had better gather Farouk into the loving arms of the law. I’ll try to arrange a meeting with Russell. I know we aren’t supposed to be seen together, but we’ll have to risk it.”
“Why?” David demanded. “Can’t you tell me what you’ve got in mind and let me pass it on?”
“It’s just as risky for you to meet with him as it is for me,” Ramses said. “I’ll tell you, though, in case I can’t reach Russell, or in case . . . This is a perfect opportunity to get Farouk out of the way without involving me. If the police raided Aslimi’s shop, I wouldn’t have much trouble