The Ape Who Guards the Balance - Elizabeth Peters [30]
“What do you take me for?” David’s voice was breathless but amused.
“Was he the last?”
“Yes. Lock the door and come on.”
Ramses set me on my feet. The stairwell was dark as pitch, but I heard the click of a key turning. I doubted it would hold the men inside for long, for the door was a flimsy thing; but by the time they finished fighting over the gold, there might not be anyone left to follow.
We pelted down the creaking stairs—first David, then me, then Ramses. When we emerged onto the narrow street I realized that there was light where there had been none before. A door opposite stood open. The form silhouetted in the opening was definitely female; I could see every voluptuous curve through the thin fabric that draped her body. The light glimmered off twists of gold in her hair and on her arms.
David had come to an abrupt halt. Seeing the woman, he let out a sigh of relief. I will not repeat what she said, dear, for fear of shocking you; but I am happy to report that David refused the invitation in terms as blunt as those in which it had been couched. He started to turn away. The street was very narrow; a single step brought her close to him. She threw her arms around him—and I hit her behind her ear with my joined fists, the way Aunt Amelia taught me.
As that dear lady would say, the result was most satisfactory. The woman dropped the knife and fell to the ground. Another silhouetted shape appeared in the open doorway—a man this time. There were others behind him. In their haste they blocked one another trying to get through the narrow aperture, which was lucky for us, since both my valiant escorts appeared to be momentarily paralyzed. I gave Ramses a shove.
“Run!” I said.
It isn’t difficult to lose pursuers in that maze of filthy alleyways and dark streets, if one knows the area. I didn’t, but once Ramses had got his wits back he took the lead, and the sounds of pursuit died away. We were all tired and out of breath, and very dirty, by the time we reached the river, but Ramses wouldn’t let me take off my stained, smelly robe until we were in the boat and underway. In case I neglected to mention it, I was wearing my own shirt and trousers under my disguise. The boys weren’t, and they made me turn my back while they changed. Men are sometimes very silly.
When we reached the other side and the little boat had come to rest, I waited for someone to clap me on the shoulder and say “Well done!” or “Jolly good show!” or some such thing. Neither of them spoke. They sat motionless, like a pair of twin statues, gaping at me. The cut at the base of David’s throat had stopped bleeding. It looked like a thin dark cord.
“Don’t just sit there,” I said in exasperation. “Let’s go back to the dahabeeyah where we can talk in comfort. I want a drink of water and a cigarette and a change of clothing and a nice soft chair and—”
“You’ll have to settle for one out of four,” Ramses said, rummaging under the seat. He handed me a flask. “We must finish our discussion before we go back to the dahabeeyah. Mother is always hanging about, and this is one conversation I don’t want her to overhear.”
I drank deeply of the lukewarm water, wishing it were something stronger. Then I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and handed the bottle to David. “Yussuf Mahmud betrayed us,” I said. “It was an ambush. You expected it.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ramses said rudely. “If I had anticipated an ambush I would not have allowed . . . That is, I would have acted differently.”
“I don’t see how you could have acted any more effectively,” I admitted. “You and David must have worked out in advance what to do if things went wrong.”
“We always do,” Ramses said. “Never mind the flattery, Nefret; the fact is, I miscalculated rather badly. We were lucky to get away unhurt.”
“Lucky!” I said indignantly.
Ramses started to speak, but for once David beat him to it. “It wasn’t luck that saved my life tonight, it was Nefret’s quick wits and courage. Thank you, my sister. I didn’t see the knife until it was at my throat.”
Ramses