Lord of the Silent - Elizabeth Peters [98]
“No.” The corners of her mouth drooped. “I’ve hated keeping things from you. I almost told you the other day, when you were being so sweet and reasonable and I was snapping at you because I felt guilty. Sit down and I’ll tell you about it. She wasn’t much hurt.”
“Mother? Of course, it would be Mother.”
As she went on with the story, curiosity replaced his outrage. He contented himself with a few mild damns before remarking, “So if Father is right, Asad was already dead when the attack on him and Mother took place. It doesn’t make sense. Are you sure that’s everything?”
“Well . . .”
“I can’t stand much more of this,” Ramses remarked conversationally.
“It’s nothing serious, honestly. At least I hope not. Our Mr. Smith is in Cairo, ostensibly attached to the Department of Public Works. That’s not his real name, of course; it’s something hyphenated and unpronounceable. Mother tracked him down through her usual sources—tea at Shepheard’s and rude gossip.”
“She’s been a busy little creature, hasn’t she?” He ran distracted fingers through his hair. “I might have known she and Father were just waiting to be rid of me before they went on the offensive. What did she do to Smith, threaten to thrash him with her parasol if he didn’t leave me alone?”
“Well . . .”
Ramses glared at her.
“I’m sorry,” Nefret gurgled. “I suppose it isn’t funny, but if you could see your face . . . That’s more or less what she did, I guess. Ramses, she went to the Turf Club—by herself—and ordered Lord Edward to bring his friend to meet her there. Heaven only knows what she threatened, but it was enough to bring Smith promptly to heel. He admitted he had known of Asad’s escape, but hadn’t bothered to inform us because—how did he put it?—‘we aren’t worried about that ineffectual bunch of revolutionaries.’ Something like that.” Another irrepressible gurgle of laughter escaped her. “Can’t you see her sitting in the lounge, surrounded by all those scandalized men, wearing her second-best hat and genteelly sipping her whiskey?”
It was funny, if one didn’t happen to be related to the lady in the second-best hat. “She’s unbelievable,” Ramses muttered. “Even I don’t believe in her, and I’ve known her for over twenty years. Well, I’m not surprised ‘Smith’ is in Cairo. We knew he was with the Department and that his new assignment had something to do with Egypt. There is no reason to suppose he has any evil designs on me. I wish to God Mother would stop treating me like a child!”
“Darling, you have every right to be angry,” Nefret said soberly. “I’ll never do it again, I promise.”
“Perhaps it’s as well you did.” He pushed his plate away and lit a cigarette. “In the heat of the moment I might have done something ineffectual and idiotic like catching the first train to Cairo. Then we’d have missed that charming family reunion.”
Nefret got up and looked over the side. “There’s Jamil with the horses. Where are we going today? Gurneh?”
“You know better than that.”
She turned, leaning against the rail. The morning breeze lifted the loose hair on her forehead. Her face was grave. “I know what you’ve got in mind, anyhow, but I don’t agree. Mother claims she can recognize him, whatever disguise he may assume, but I certainly couldn’t. He could be anywhere; he could be anyone!”
“Well then, what the hell do you suggest we do? Let him loot every tomb in Luxor? Dash wildly up and down the west bank, trying to guard all of them at once?”
“He said he was leaving Luxor.”
“You didn’t believe him, did you? For God’s sake, Nefret!”
Instead of shouting back, she gave him a provoking grin. “My, my, that’s twice in twenty-four hours. When you’re angry, you are absolutely—”
“Adorable. Right. I wasn’t angry with you.”
“You were angry with him. You still are. Why?”
“He manipulated both of us as if we were puppets,” Ramses said between his teeth. “He had you feeling sorry for him, and me feeling guilty, and he directed every word of that conversation, do you realize that? He told us what he wanted us to know