The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [55]
Lara was surprised to hear her name spoken, and turned questioningly to Omar.
“Another cousin?” she asked.
“Almost,” replied Omar. “He is my half-brother Mustafa. He will take you to your table and watch over you until you are ready to leave.”
Lara followed Mustafa through a large entryway, then turned left, and found herself in a walled courtyard. Some fifteen diners, all but two of them male, presumably all of them British, were seated at various umbrella-shaded tables. Most stared disapprovingly at her when she entered; at first she thought it was because she was an unescorted woman, but she quickly realized that it was because she was dressed in Sudanese robes.
A single sheet of paper, with the day’s menu mimeographed on it, was handed to her. She studied it and then turned to the waiter.
“I’ll have porridge, scrambled eggs with sausage, and tea.”
“No sausage,” said the waiter.
“You’re out of it?” she said. “What else have you got? Bacon, perhaps?”
“No bacon,” he said severely.
“Let me think about it,” said Lara. “Come back in a few moments.”
The waiter walked away, and a white-haired gentleman at the next table leaned over.
“Excuse me for interfering, my dear,” he said. “I couldn’t help overhearing. You are an Englishwoman, are you not?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t even ask why you are dressed in such apparel,” he said. “Let me give you a piece of advice: If you ask for sausage or any other pork products, you will be refused and told they don’t have any.”
“What’s the secret?” asked Lara. “I notice you have sausage on your plate.”
“You just have to speak a little British,” he said with a smile. “Ask for bangers. They don’t know it’s our informal word for sausages. They just open the banger package and fry them. They probably think it’s beef or lamb.”
“Thanks,” said Lara. “I’ll try it.”
She ordered bangers with her eggs, and got them. When her food arrived she closed her eyes and just enjoyed inhaling the odors for a minute before she began eating. It was possible she’d had another meal this good since she was trapped in the tomb back in Edfu, but she couldn’t remember one.
With the exception of the man who had given her the hint, none of the other club members made any effort to introduce themselves or start up a conversation, and for that she was grateful. She didn’t feel like lying, and she had no intention of telling anyone the real reason she was here. She was aware that Mustafa was hovering near the entrance to the kitchen, making himself as inconspicuous as possible, but never letting her out of his sight. When she finished she left some Egyptian pounds on the table and got to her feet. Mustafa came over, picked up the money and returned it to her, explained that she was a guest of the club—a statement no one challenged or seemed to care about—and led her back to the club’s front door, where Omar and Gaafar were waiting for her.
“Where’s Hassam?” she asked.
“He’s gone ahead, just in case the Amenhotep has already arrived,” said Omar. “We wouldn’t want Kevin Mason wandering off in the wrong direction.”
The three of them walked to the riverfront, where Hassam was waiting for them.
“Soon,” he said. Then he shrugged. “That is probably exactly what they said the last four mornings.”
“Almost everything in this country needs fixing,” complained Omar bitterly. “The one thing we absolutely do not need is a charismatic leader who is intent on destroying what’s left. You and Mason must find the Amulet before the Mahdists do.”
“We’ll do our best,” said Lara. “You know,” she added, looking at the buildings all crowded together by the river, “it’s not London or Paris or New York, but it’s a lot bigger and more built up than when General Gordon was here. So much has changed in more than a century. It’s always possible that the Amulet is encased in cement, buried beneath the cornerstone of some five-story building.”
Omar shook his head. “Gordon was a careful man, and he knew what he had in his possession. He would never have simply buried