The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [161]
Daoud was a big, easygoing man who held me in considerable awe. He had never opposed an order of mine. He opposed this one, heatedly. I was forced to brandish my parasol at him before he agreed.
Anonymous in our black garments, we women trailed humbly behind Walter and David. Walter’s hand was on the boy’s shoulder – an ostensibly friendly gesture, but I knew what Walter was thinking: that David might be leading us into an ambush. Evelyn would have indignantly denied the possibility; I did not believe it myself, but belief is not certainty. It was just another of the risks we had been forced to take.
Luxor has only twelve thousand inhabitants, but some of them live crowded together in areas as dark and cramped as the slums of a city. They were not so dark that night. The Lesser Festival of Bairam, which follows the fasting of Ramadan, was being celebrated with visits of ceremony and the giving of gifts. We passed doors that were hospitably open, and groups of people talking, but when David finally stopped, the voices had died away and the surrounding houses were dark.
‘Here,’ he whispered. ‘It was here the man caught hold of him.’
Instinctively we drew together, with a wall at our backs. It was up to the cat now, and when so much hung on her purported talents it was hard even for me to have much faith in them. I was about to speak to her when my eyes, searching my surroundings, fell on something I recognized.
‘That is the house,’ I hissed, pointing.
‘How do you know?’ Walter demanded.
‘It would take too long to explain.’ I studied the facade of the house.
Like the others that abutted it on either side, it was several storeys high, its peeling stucco surface broken only by shuttered windows on either side of the doorway and a balcony over it.
Was this unpretentious dwelling Riccetti’s Luxor headquarters? It was certainly the house from which the very large man had emerged and – I now realized – attempted to intercept me. As I continued to study it I observed several interesting features. For one thing, the shutters were solid, and so well secured to the frames that not a single ray of light escaped. The inhabitants must be unsociable individuals who did not encourage visitors, even during the days of the festival. The same was true of the houses on either side and those that faced them across the narrow way. The whole area was uncommonly dark and quiet; I wondered whether Riccetti owned or controlled every house on the street.
If he had stationed a guard outside we were done for, but I did not think he would bother. The solid walls and shuttered windows made the houses into virtual fortresses. I decided not to waste time looking for a back entrance. There probably was one, but we might not be able to distinguish it from others, and if it offered an easier means of entry, it would undoubtedly be guarded.
I removed the muffling black garments and kicked them away. ‘Lift me on your shoulders,’ I said to Walter, indicating the balcony.
It was the only possible way; he knew that too, but he felt obliged to assert his masculinity. ‘Not you. I will –’
‘I cannot lift you, you idiot.’ I forced the words between clenched teeth. ‘If you argue with me, Walter, I will – I will – I may be forced to strike you.’
‘Do as she says,’ Evelyn said. She had her parasol in her hand now. It had been hidden under her robe.
It was rather a tricky business, since I was in a hurry, and even standing on Walter’s shoulders I could not quite reach the balcony. Had Emerson been there . . . I forced that seductive image from my mind and found a crack large enough for the toe of my boot. From there – to be honest, I don’t know how I managed it, but I did, because I had to.
The shutters here were not solid. I could see no light between the strips of wood and I hoped that meant the room beyond was uninhabited. I could not avoid making some small noises when I ran my knife blade along