Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [114]
Nefret sank onto the velvet-cushioned bench. “You left your bucket.”
“And there it will remain. Let’s hope someone falls over it. I was forced to that role because it’s so damned difficult to get you alone.”
“You couldn’t have known we would come tonight.”
“You sent Margaret a message this morning; I thought it likely that when she didn’t respond you would come looking for her.”
“How did you know?” Nefret gasped.
“Oh, I’ve been on duty for hours. We oppressed members of the working class put in long days, but we are lazy beggars, who are unable to resist stopping to gossip. I saw her go off with Sayid and later I recognized your crewman, who obligingly told me to whom he had delivered the note. I had, of course, made my preparations in advance. It’s quite easy to change roles, when you’ve had as much practice as I.” He waggled his teeth at her. Amusement won out over outrage; she started to laugh. Sethos put his hand over her mouth.
“No uncontrolled hilarity, if you please; it might attract attention. Listen carefully, Nefret. I want you and Ramses out of Luxor. Get him back to Cairo. You’re the only one who can do it.”
“Why?”
“God, you’re as bad as Amelia. All I can—all I will—tell you is that he’s in danger here.”
“From whom? Not you!”
“Thank you for your skepticism. No, not me. Let me think how to put this. I discovered, when I tried to rebuild my old organization, that someone had got in ahead of me.”
“Someone like Riccetti?”
“It’s a lucrative business,” Sethos said, somewhat evasively. “There are always enterprising souls ready to take advantage of a vacancy. How many bodies have to fall on you before you get the point?”
Nefret said slowly, “You heard about what happened yesterday.”
“Everyone’s heard about it. If you two go on prying you’ll be hurt.”
Nefret put her hand on his sleeve. “What about you? Won’t you please reconsider what you’re doing? It’s a dangerous game, and the other players are dangerous men. Surely you’ve enough put by to retire permanently.”
She spoke quickly and earnestly, trying to hold his eyes with hers, using the little tricks every woman knows to convince him of her sincerity and her interest. She thought his face softened for a moment, but then he laughed and said lightly, “Into the bosom of the family? I can’t really see Radcliffe being pleased at the prospect. Besides, he’d want me to give up my ill-gotten gains.”
“So would Mother.”
“They couldn’t make me do it, though,” Sethos said, with a toothy smile. “Prettily done, Nefret. You’re a charming creature, but don’t waste your charm on me. I’ve a little present for you.”
He took it from his inside breast pocket—a bag of colorful cotton, clumsily stitched together, with a drawstring of thin cord. Even before she took it and felt the weight, she knew what it was.
“I’ve heard he won’t carry a gun,” Sethos said. “I hope you don’t share his sentiments.”
“I share them. But I’ll do anything that will keep him safe.”
“Just like a woman. Your principles always yield to expediency. Do you know how to use it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m in dead earnest, Nefret. Get him away from here. And try to take that damned woman with you.”
“Margaret? Why?”
“That, at least, should be obvious,” said her uncle by marriage in exasperation. “She’s as obstinate and inquisitive as Amelia. She’s no fool, either. If she goes on the way she has begun . . . Tell her some fantastic yarn that will induce her to follow you to Cairo. Offer her a scoop—a corpse—a curse—something. Now you’d better get back to him before he comes looking for you. Doesn’t he ever let you off the lead?”
He was five feet away, moving with a deceptive quickness that reminded Nefret of his brother, before she could react. She jumped up, took two steps, and stopped. She’d have to run to catch him up. A pretty sight that would be—Mrs. Emerson the Younger pelting through the lobby of the Winter Palace in pursuit of a strange man. A second later he was out of sight.
He’d done it again. From now on I’ll be on guard against provocative comments like that,