The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [61]
“All right, all right,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to a doctor or a hospital with a little scratch like this. I’ll go to the hotel and clean up.”
“And buy a shirt along the way,” said Lara. “You don’t have any luggage, remember?”
“What about you?”
“I’ll go to the museum and meet you at the library.”
“All right. It beats arguing with you.” He paused. “We’re at the Bortai, right?”
“Not anymore,” said Omar. “Now we are at the Arak. Do you know where it is?”
“I’ll find it.”
“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” said Lara as he started off. “And be sure to use a disinfectant on that cut. There’s a pharmacy just down the block from the hotel.”
Mason resisted the urge to salute her, and simply turned and began walking toward the city center.
“Should we tell him it’s closer to the Nile?” asked Hassam.
“No,” said Lara. “The more haberdashers he passes, the more likely he is to actually buy some clothes.” She turned back to Omar, who was once again kneeling next to Gaafar’s body. “Come on,” she said gently. “The police will be here any minute. I can hear the sirens already, and I don’t think it would be a good idea for them to ask me any questions.”
Omar stood up, a dagger in his hand. “We will go now.” He reached out and presented Gaafar’s knife to her, handle first. “He would have wanted you to have this.”
“The Scalpel of Isis,” she said. “You’re sure?”
“I am sure.”
She tucked the blade inside her robe. “Then I’m honored.”
“We must go,” said Hassam as the sirens became louder.
It took them ten minutes to reach the Ethnographical Museum, keeping off the main thoroughfares, and as Lara had predicted, there was nothing of use there.
Hassam walked her to the library while Omar went off to pass the word of Gaafar’s death, not only to inform his family of it, but also to try to find out who was responsible for the truck attack. Lara had a feeling that Omar’s people were involved. It made perfect sense to her that the Mahdists would let her live as long as they thought she might find the Amulet; it was men like Abdul who wanted it to remain lost or hidden forever.
Mason, dressed in all-new khaki shirt and slacks, with white bandages climbing up his neck from his shoulder, and a felt hat shading his eyes from the sun, was waiting for them on the steps of the library.
“Well, you’re looking fit,” she said. “If they ever remake King Solomon’s Mines, you should be a natural for the part of Allan Quatermain. Are you feeling better?”
“I was never feeling badly,” he said. “Where’s Omar?”
“Spreading word of what happened, and trying to find out who ordered it,” she said.
“I’m not without my own sources in the city, and I’ll bet they’re different from his,” said Mason. “I’ll tell you what. You do what you have to do in the library, and while you’re at it I’ll see if I can get some answers.”
“Omar will find out,” said Hassam.
“I’m sure he will,” said Mason. “But it won’t hurt to have it confirmed from independent sources.”
“You do what you want,” said Lara. “As for me, I’m going to hunt up Siwar.”
“Siwar? One of Omar’s lieutenants?”
“One of Khartoum’s historians,” she replied.
“Oh, of course,” said Mason. “I’m still not thinking clearly. I’d better get going before I say anything else stupid. Besides, the sooner we find out who sent the truck after you—”
“It doesn’t really matter,” she interrupted. “As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care which side tried to kill me. The sooner we find the Amulet, the sooner they’ll leave me alone.” She gestured toward the library. “I’m going in there.”
Mason went off on his own, and Lara and Hassam entered the library. After a moment she noticed that tears were streaming down his face.
“I know he was a good friend and ally,” she whispered, “but try not to think of him, at least until we’re out of here. People are starting to stare at you and wonder what’s wrong.”
“You are right,” he said, making an almost physical effort to cast the image of his dead comrade from his mind. “I will not embarrass you again.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” replied Lara. “I