The Falcon at the Portal - Elizabeth Peters [152]
“He told me,” David said.
“He did?” Wardani sounded surprised, and Ramses smiled to himself.
“We too are brothers,” David said.
“Then you will be pleased to hear that it was for your brother’s sake I summoned you here.” He snapped his fingers and ordered coffee from the waiter.
Ramses remained silent. It was David who asked, “What do you mean?”
Wardani waited until the waiter had painstakingly unloaded three glasses of water and three small cups of Turkish coffee. Then he looked directly at Ramses.
“You were seen recently with Thomas Russell.”
“No doubt you’ve already collected the firing squad,” Ramses said, trying to conceal his chagrin. He hadn’t noticed he was being followed that day. “Why shouldn’t I see him? He’s a friend of the family.”
“A slight acquaintance,” Wardani corrected. “And a policeman.”
“But Russell’s stationed in Alexandria,” David said.
“He’s been transferred to Cairo—assistant commissioner.”
“And you can thank God for it,” Ramses said. He took a sip of the coffee and wished he hadn’t. “He’s an honest man and a good policeman, unlike his present superior. Harvey Pasha is a pompous fool. I knew there was no use going to him with the story you told me. He’d scoff at the idea that a sahib was involved in the drug business. Russell didn’t scoff. Mother said he’d offered me a job. She thought he was joking. He wasn’t. It’s nice to be in such demand. Everybody wants me. Reisner, Fisher, Father, Russell … Almost everybody.”
David put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. “Get hold of yourself. Are you telling me you are working for Russell—as a police spy?”
“Call it what you like. I’ll do whatever I must to find the swine and stop him.” David’s hand was oddly steadying. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the narrow dark face under the tarboosh. “If you know I saw Russell, you know why. If I succeed you’ll hear about it. Why the devil did you drag me here tonight when I could have been more usefully employed?”
“Well, I thought that was the reason,” Wardani said calmly. “But some of my people had certain doubts. Watch yourself, Ramses. I believe I’ve convinced my friends that you mean us no harm, but a few of the lads are a bit hot-headed, and there are others in Cairo who wouldn’t mind seeing you out of the way.”
“You astonish me,” Ramses said. “Now can we go home?”
“No!” David kept his voice low. “Not until I know more about this. What others?”
“The man he’s looking for, to mention only one.” Wardani lit another cigarette. “He’s an effendi and a member of your own superior caste. He may be someone you know. If that’s the case, he also knows you, Ramses. I presume you’re trying to infiltrate one of the gangs in some disguise or other. All I’m saying is that it had better be a damned good disguise.”
“What others?” David repeated inflexibly.
“The man who killed that girl—or perhaps I should say the men who killed those girls.” Wardani grinned unpleasantly. “Even mentioning them in the same breath would offend a lot of people, wouldn’t it? The whore may have been killed by her pimp or one of her customers, but the American girl didn’t jump down that shaft of her own accord. If you weren’t—”
“That’s enough,” David said.
“My dear chap, I’m only trying to help!” Wardani opened his eyes very wide. “But I’d best be on my way. You’ll hear from me soon again, David. My respectful salutations to your wife. And to the lovely Miss Forth—who is now, I believe, no longer a miss? Her husband is a fortunate man.”
David’s hand pressed down on Ramses’s shoulder. “We will convey your good wishes.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ramses agreed.
“Not to the Honorable Mr. Godwin, though,” Wardani said. He looked very pleased with himself, like a student who has come up with the right answer against all the teacher’s expectations. “He’s a sahib of sorts, isn’t he? He’d be shocked to learn you were acquainted with a reprobate like me.” He rose and brushed fastidiously at his tunic. “We mustn’t leave together. Stay here for another half hour; drink coffee.”
“If I drink any more coffee I’ll be sick,” Ramses muttered,