Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [204]
“In part. The locals avoided the place; they had been told it was haunted or cursed or something of the sort. That in itself suggested someone was using it, so I searched the place. He hadn’t left anything incriminatory, not even a codebook, but the wireless was there. So I decided I might as well blow the bloody place up, cut his line of communication, and remove one of his hideaways.
“At this point I still didn’t know whether I was dealing with one man or two, but when I was notified of Asad’s death I felt certain the two were one. As you yourself so cogently remarked, only a man who knew of Ramses’s role last winter would have realized that Asad might constitute a danger to him. We will never know for certain unless Kuentz decides to confide in us, but I expect Kuentz ran across Asad on one of his trips to Kharga, and heard his heated remarks on the subject of British oppression and the martyrdom of his beloved leader; which gave Kuentz the bright idea of turning him loose and encouraging him to seek revenge on a traitor. It was not such a bad scheme. All it cost Kuentz was a few pounds and a little time, and if it had succeeded it would have put Ramses out of commission, and seriously distracted the rest of you. He wanted to keep you away from Luxor, for the reasons you have indicated.
“What he failed to understand was that Asad’s heart . . .” The corners of his mouth turned up in a particularly offensive smile. “His heart, shall we say, wasn’t in it. Kuentz had arranged to meet Asad in Cairo, promising aid and comfort for the cause. When they met, Kuentz discovered that Asad had not only failed to kill or incapacitate Ramses, but that he was riddled with guilt and remorse. There was a reasonable chance he would go to his—er—friend and confess. So Kuentz killed him.”
“My reasoning exactly,” I said.
“Quite,” said Sethos, nodding gravely in acknowledgment. “To sum it up, the Germans and Turks had planted a number of agents in various trouble spots, awaiting der Tag, and archaeology provides excellent cover. If my quarry was an Egyptologist who had come across a startling discovery in the course of his normal activities, a discovery rich enough to seduce him from his duty—well, that would account for what had happened.”
“Good enough,” said Emerson, bounding to his feet. Ordinarily he enjoys participating in our little deductive sessions, but archaeological fever had overcome him. “So you will take steps to get Kuentz off our hands?”
“I will wire Cairo today,” was the reply.
“Just write out the telegram,” I said. “You use some sort of code, I suppose. I will send it when I go to Luxor this afternoon. I have a great deal of shopping to do before—”
I have seldom heard such language, even from Emerson. Nor did Emerson object, as he usually did, to bad language from anyone except himself. I waited until Sethos had worn out his store of invective, and then said, “You aren’t fit to go anywhere yet. Nefret, perhaps you had better take his temperature.”
Sethos gave his brother a look like that of a caged animal. Emerson shook his head. “It’s no use,” he said gruffly. “She always gets her way. Anyhow, you aren’t—you ought not—er—we cannot allow you to—”
“Disappear again into loneliness, danger, and despair,” I said. “Not with Christmas only two days off.”
Sethos covered his face with his hands. “Get me pen and paper.”
From Manuscript H
The tree was bright with candles and hung with the little ornaments which David had made all those years ago and which had become a treasured part of their holiday celebration. Leaning against her husband, Nefret was so tired she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. Her mother-in-law had had them all working round the clock to get things ready, and when she wasn’t after Nefret to help with wrapping gifts and hanging decorations, Emerson was demanding photographs, sketches, and plans. There was one moment Nefret would never forget, when she stood in the underground chamber with Selim and the cameras, and realized she was still clutching