Ramses didn’t bother to ask who had given the order. He released his grip and brushed at the enterprising fleas that had already found his hand. “Where?”
“This way, this way.” Musa trotted ahead, around a corner and through a pile of discarded fruit rinds and peelings that squelched under his bare feet. “This way,” he said again, and turned his head to nod reassuringly at Ramses. “Do you have a cigarette?”
“Don’t push me too far, Musa.”
He was no longer worried about Nefret, though. The man who must be responsible for this would not harm her. They ended up where Ramses had expected: in an outstandingly filthy alley behind the house el-Gharbi had once occupied. Musa went to the small inconspicuous door Ramses remembered from earlier visits. The police had barricaded it with heavy boards, but someone had removed most of the nails; Musa pulled the planks aside and climbed through the opening.
The house that had once been alive with music and the other colorful accompaniments of a contemptible trade was dark, deserted, and dusty. The windows had been boarded up, the rich furnishings removed or left to molder. There was a little light, streaking through cracks in the boards. When they reached the room in which el-Gharbi had held court, Ramses made out a massive shape squatting on the ruined cushions. Nefret sat next to him. A ray of sunlight sparked in her hair.
“Sorry,” she said cheerfully. “I did it again.”
Ramses got the words out through lips unsteady with relief. “Not your fault this time. Another black mark against you, el-Gharbi. What do you mean by this?”
“But, my dear young friend, what choice had I?” The voice was the well-remembered high-pitched whine, but as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Ramses saw that the procurer was dressed in a ragged galabeeyah instead of his elegant white robes. He didn’t appear to have lost any weight, though. Shifting uncomfortably, he went on, “You would not come to the camp. You would not have come to me here – so I invited your lovely wife. We have been having a most enjoyable conversation. Sit down, won’t you? I regret I cannot offer you tea -”
“What do you want?” Ramses interrupted.
“Why, the pleasure of seeing you and your lovely -”
“I don’t have time for this,” Ramses said rather loudly. “You cannot keep us here against our will, you know.”
“Alas, it is true.” The procurer sighed. “I do not have the manpower I once had.”
“What is your point, then?”
“You won’t sit down? Oh, very well. It is the camp, you see. It is no place for a person of refinement like myself.” A shudder of distaste ran through the huge body. “I want out.”
“You are out,” Ramses said, unwilling amusement replacing his annoyance. El-Gharbi was unconquerable.
“Only for a few hours. If I am not there tonight when they make the rounds, that rude person Harvey will turn out every police officer in Cairo to look for me. I do not intend to spend the rest of my life running away from the police, it is too uncomfortable.”
“Yes, I suppose it would be. Can you give me one good reason why I should intercede on your behalf, even if I were able?”
“But my dear young friend, surely the many favors I have done for you -”
“And I have done several for you. If the score is not even, the debt is on your side.”
“I was afraid you would see it that way. What of future favors, then? I am at your command.”
“There is nothing I want from you. Nefret, let’s go. The parents will be getting anxious.”
“Yes, of course.” She rose. “Good-bye, Mr. el-Gharbi.”
She used the English words, possibly because the Arabic terms of farewell invoked a blessing or an expression of goodwill. El-Gharbi didn’t miss the implications. He chuckled richly.
“Maassalameh, honored lady. And to you, my beautiful young friend. Remember what I have said. The time may come…”
“I hope to God it won’t come,” Ramses muttered, as they left the room. “Nefret, are you all right?”
“Musa was very polite. No damage, darling, except…” She scratched her arm. “Let’s hurry. I expect Father is frantic by this time, and I’m being devoured by fleas.”
“That makes two of us.”
“My poor darling. What you suffer for me!”
The narrow back door was still unbarred. Ramses did not bother replacing the boards.
Taking the coward’s way out, he sent a servant to the dining saloon to announce their return, and they went straight to their room and the adjoining bath chamber. When he emerged, wearing only a towel, his father was sitting in an armchair, pipe in hand.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Still bathing. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“Oh,” said Emerson, belatedly aware of his intrusion on their privacy. “Oh. Er -”
Ramses opened the door to the bath chamber and announced his father’s presence. Water splashed and Nefret called out, “I’ll be with you in a few minutes, Father.”
It wasn’t often that Ramses could embarrass his father and he was rather inclined to enjoy those moments. Emerson was blushing. “You’ve been the devil of a long time,” he complained. “We are due to leave in a few hours, you know.”
“It couldn’t be helped.” Ramses dressed as he told Emerson what had happened. He expected an outburst; Emerson had nothing but contempt for procurers in general and el-Gharbi in particular. Instead of shouting, Emerson looked thoughtful.
“I wonder if he knows anything about – um – Sethos.”
“I didn’t ask. I don’t want to be in his debt, and I was in a hurry to get away. It’s highly unlikely, Father. The illegal antiquities trade was only a sideline, and he’s been shut up in Hilmiya for weeks.”
“Hmm, yes.” Emerson brooded.
The door of the bath chamber opened and Nefret appeared, wreathed in steam. She was wrapped in a long robe that covered her from chin to bare feet, but Emerson fled, mumbling apologies.
Getting my family onto the train – any train – is a task that tries even my well-known patience. Emerson had sent Selim and Daoud on to Luxor a few days earlier, to survey the site and determine what needed to be done. That left seven of us, not counting the cat, who was more trouble than anyone. The railroad station is always a scene of pure pandemonium; people and luggage and parcels and an occasional goat mill about, voices are raised, and arms wave wildly. What with Horus shrieking and thrashing around in his basket, and Sennia trying to get away from Gargery and Basima so she could dash up and down the platform looking for acquaintances, and Emerson darting suspicious glances at every man, woman, and child who came anywhere near him, my attention was fully engaged.
The train was late, of course. After I had got everyone on board and in the proper compartment, I was more than ready for a refreshing sip of whiskey and soda. Removing the bottle, the gasogene, and the glasses from the hamper, I invited Emerson to join me.
As I could have told him – and indeed, did tell him – it had been a waste of time to look for Sethos. He never did the same thing twice, and he had had ample time to communicate with us had he chosen to do so.
Emerson said, “Bah,” and poured more whiskey.
I had dispatched telegrams to the Vandergelts and to Fatima, our housekeeper, informing them of the change in schedule, but being only too familiar with the leisurely habits of the telegraph office in Luxor, I was not surprised to find that no one was waiting to meet us at the station. No doubt the telegrams would be delivered later that day, after the unofficial telegraph, gossip, had already announced our arrival. It did not go unremarked. There were always people hanging about the station, meeting arrivals and bidding farewell to departing travelers, or simply wasting time. A great shout went up when the loungers recognized the unmistakable form of Emerson, who was – I believe I may say this without fear of contradiction – the most famous, feared, and respected archaeologist in Egypt. Some crowded round and others dashed off, hoping to be the first to spread the news. “The Father of Curses has returned! Yes, yes, I saw him with my own eyes, and the Sitt Hakim his wife, and his son the Brother of Demons, and Nur Misur, the Light of Egypt, and the Little Bird!”