The Serpent on the Crown - Elizabeth Peters [129]
Ahmed Ali had only recently introduced horses. He and his brother ran the operation, which had proved to be highly successful. They found him sitting in the shade of the shed he had erected, fahddling with some of the other dragomen and enjoying his lunch of bread, cheese, and onions. After the obligatory exchange of courtesies, which took some time, Ramses asked about his friends.
“Strange people,” Ahmed Ali said, shaking his head. As befitted a successful merchant, his turban was very large and very intricately wound. “Very strange. No sooner had they returned than they were back again, demanding fresh horses. They wanted to go alone, but I could not permit that, so I sent Ibrahim Mohammed with them.”
“Where did they go?” David asked.
“They said to Abu Roash. Now why would they want to go there, where there is nothing to see except El-Ka’ah, the most ruinous of all the pyramids hereabout? Even if I had not feared for my beautiful horses I could not have let ignorant foreigners go so far without a guide.”
They bargained for horses, which Ahmed Ali let go at a “price that will ruin me, but only because I trust you to be careful with them.” He didn’t insult them by offering a guide.
“He should have asked the Pethericks for payment in advance,” Ramses said, as they turned their horses’ heads north.
“You don’t think they’ve bolted, do you?” David demanded. “Where the devil would they go, on horseback and without luggage?”
Far out into the desert, where a fatal accident could be arranged. Or to the ruined pyramid of Abu Roash, whose superstructure had almost entirely disappeared, but which provided a handy pit and a dangerously steep slope down into the subterranean burial chamber. Few tourists went there; as Ahmed Ali had said, it wasn’t much of a pyramid compared with the giants of Giza, and there wasn’t even a rest house. Ibrahim Mohammed would have to be disposed of first; a substantial bribe might accomplish that. If it failed, there were other ways.
Ramses didn’t reply to David. He would have been the first to admit his fears were based on slight evidence, but there was a possible motive. If Adrian had murdered his stepmother, his sister must know he was guilty. She was the only person who could testify against him. Ramses didn’t believe she would, but a killer prefers not to take chances, and Adrian had already shown resentment of her care.
Their route took them through the desert, along the edge of the cultivated land, and then eastward, to the village of Kerdaseh, attractively situated in groves of palm trees. Up to that point they couldn’t be certain they were on the right track, but Ramses didn’t think the Pethericks would stray from the path they had announced while the dragoman was with them. In Kerdaseh they received the first news of the fugitives. Ibrahim Mohammed had tried to persuade them to stop at the local market, but to the annoyance of the merchants, and presumably that of Ibrahim Mohammed, who received a percentage of all sales, they had pressed on after purchasing only a basket of fruit.
“They do seem to be heading for Abu Roash,” David said. “And Ibrahim Mohammed is still with them.”
“All very innocent,” Ramses said. “Except that it’s late in the day to start on a trek like this. And why did they rush off after they learned we were here?”
“Pure panic,” David said promptly. “By the time we catch them up they’ll have had time to think it over.”
Half an hour’s ride brought them to the village of Abu Roash and another group of disappointed merchants. Their faked antiquities and colorful local handicrafts had been rejected. The travelers had headed west across the desert.
Ahead of them a rocky hillock rose against the sky. The sun was halfway down the west; the light shone straight into their eyes. Ramses shaded his with his hand.
“There they are,” he said. “Near the foot of the hill. They’ve stopped. I think they’ve seen us.”
“Ibrahim