The Hippopotamus Pool - Elizabeth Peters [62]
Fortunately I knew where Emerson must be going, since he was out of sight by the time we reached our destination. We found him kicking the closed door of Ali Murad’s house.
‘Do continue, Emerson, if it will soothe your nerves,’ I remarked. ‘Kicking the door can serve no other purpose. We might have anticipated this.’
‘Hmph,’ said Emerson. ‘At least I ought to have anticipated it. The old rascal is shrewder than I thought.’
‘And guiltier, Emerson.’
‘Possibly, Peabody, possibly.’
‘But would fear of us explain his flight? We already have the fragment and the information you wanted; why should he hide from us?’
Emerson let out a profane exclamation. ‘By Gad, Peabody, you are right again. The only confederate he named was Abd el Hamed. There was no danger to Ali Murad in that; we were already suspicious of Abd el Hamed and might have got his name from any one of several other sources. No. If Murad has gone into hiding it is because he fears someone else. We had better have another little chat with Abd el Hamed. If Ali Murad has warned him, he too may have run for cover.’
‘Or been permanently silenced,’ I said.
‘Always looking on the bright side, Peabody. Quickly, back to the dinghy.’
I would not have been unduly distressed to have found Abd el Hamed weltering in his gore. However, when we got to his house he was sitting on a bench in the courtyard enjoying the sunshine and smoking a water pipe. He appeared so ostentatiously at ease that I suspected he had been warned of our approach – and had, in fact, expected we would come.
Emerson cut short his unctuous greetings. ‘Still here, are you? Ali Murad is wiser than you; he has gone into hiding.’
Hamed gaped in exaggerated surprise. ‘Hiding from what, O Father of Curses? No doubt Ali Murad enjoys a well-deserved holiday. Alas, I cannot afford such a luxury.’
‘In that case my hasty journey to warn you was wasted effort,’ Emerson said. ‘But perhaps you are unaware that the boy still lives.’
The hit was a shrewd one. Hamed’s hideous countenance was well schooled in deception, but the stem of the pipe slipped from his hand.
‘Your servant was careless,’ Emerson went on. ‘Don’t bother sending another. David has told me all he knows, and I would take it personally if he were attacked while under my protection.’
Hamed had recovered himself. ‘I know nothing of this. I sent no one after the boy. He ran away from me. He is a liar, an ingrate, a thief –’
‘Enough,’ I said. ‘Emerson, shall we not search the house?’
‘Why bother?’ Emerson smiled at Hamed, who was flapping around like a distracted hen. ‘We have a great deal to do before we begin work on the tomb tomorrow morning.’ Reaching into his pocket, he flipped a coin at the old man. ‘For your holiday, Hamed.’
Followed by the usual curious crowd, including a goat and several chickens, we descended the hill and made our way to the house where our men were staying. Selim was the first to reach us; his first question was an eager ‘Is it true, Father of Curses, that you have found the tomb? Where is it? When shall we begin?’
Emerson frowned, but I could tell he was extremely pleased with himself. He shot me a meaningful glance before saying loudly, ‘That is a secret, Selim, known only to me. Come in the house, all of you. A wise man does not shout his business to the wind.’
The conference did not take long, since Emerson (I had begun to suspect) had nothing particular to say. He pursed his lips and looked mysterious and threw out vague hints. The men were extremely impressed, however. After Emerson had told them to be ready in a day or two, we took our departure. Lingering outside the door in order to tie my bootlace, I heard one of them say in awed tones, ‘Only the Father of Curses could learn such a secret.’
‘No, it is the magic of the Sitt Hakim,’ Selim insisted.
‘Or the magic of her son. It is known that he talks with afreets and demons