Tomb of the Golden Bird - Elizabeth Peters [146]
“Well?” he said, after David had lit the cigarette for him.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“That would be nice.”
David flinched. “I’d rather you hit me than use that tone of voice. It’s not what you think, Ramses. I knew nothing about this business until I arrived in Cairo. You told me a little, but we didn’t have time to talk at length; there was always someone around. And you were always around, you never left me alone for a minute. As I learned later, other people were waiting for a chance to talk to me in private, before I left Cairo. You wondered why they bothered to carry Gargery off. They hoped we would separate in order to search for him—which we did. As soon as you were out of sight, one of them approached me. D’you remember the man you knew as Bashir?”
“One of the gang of radicals we infiltrated during the war? I thought he had been rounded up along with the other revolutionaries.”
“He was. That was his nom de guerre; his real name is Mohammed Fehmi, and he comes from a well-to-do family. After the war, when he’d served his term they let him out, thanks in large part to his father’s influence. He’s now a respectable member of society, employed by one of the ministries. To make a long story short, which he had to do since he hadn’t much time, he told me flat-out that he and his party are planning a coup. A bloodless coup. They’re fed up with Fuad and his devious schemes; they want to replace him with someone who is sympathetic to their aspirations and who will abide by the constitution.”
Ramses’s lip curled expressively. “I know what you’re thinking,” David said. “But I had no reason not to believe him, Ramses. He insisted that they had harmed no one, that they meant no harm to anyone. I agreed to keep silent, at least for the time being. At that point I hadn’t got the full story from you.”
“You got it when we talked that night.”
David nodded. “What you told me confirmed Bashir’s claims. He frankly admitted that a few of their people had got the wind up after Sethos stole their precious document, and had gone a little overboard trying to retrieve it. Since then they have confined themselves to keeping a close watch on you and the family.
“I wanted to tell you, Ramses, I really did. But—well, I’m not as naive as you think. Bashir had offered the stupid donkey a tasty handful of carrots, but he might be hiding a stick behind his back. I needed to know more about their intentions, and the best way of doing that was to keep on good terms with them—let them believe I was with them wholeheartedly.”
You are, Ramses thought, noticing that David was avoiding his eyes—with them, if not wholeheartedly. You believed Bashir because you wanted to believe in a bloodless coup that would realize your fondest hopes for your country, support of a cause you’ve believed in and fought for all your life.
It wouldn’t be bloodless, though. Coups seldom were. There were always a few who joined in for the sick pleasure of violence.
Ramses knew what it was like to be torn between conflicting loyalties. He’d had to deceive his family, even Nefret, when he was working undercover during the Great War. He had hated the deception, his superiors, and himself, as David must be doing now.
“So what have you decided?” he asked.
Sensitive to every nuance of his friend’s voice and expression, David reacted to Ramses’s milder tone with a direct look and a tentative smile.
“I decided tonight, when I heard about Margaret,