He Shall Thunder in the Sky taps-12 Read online

  Avoiding my attempt to catch hold of him, Emerson bounced up and directed a hail of invective at a group of people who had approached the shaft. There were four of them, fitted out in tourist style with blue goggles and green parasols; the men wore solar topees and the women quantities of veiling, and all of them were trying to get past Selim and Daoud, who stood guard.

  Emerson’s apoplectic countenance and carefully enunciated remarks sent them into rapid retreat.

  “The curse of the working archaeologist,” said my husband, resuming his seat. “I wonder how many other idiots will try to get a look.”

  “The news of such discoveries spreads quickly,” I said, selecting another sandwich. “And everyone wants to be the first to see them. It is a basic trait of human nature, my dear. Have another cucumber—”

  “You’ve eaten them all,” said Emerson, inspecting the interiors of the remaining sandwiches.

  My surmise had been correct; the news of our discovery did spread, and we were forced to station several of the men a little distance off to warn visitors away. By late afternoon even Emerson was forced to admit we could not get the statue out that day. The light was failing and it would have been foolish to go on.

  Again Selim offered to stand guard. This time Emerson did not demur. “You and Daoud and six or seven others,” he ordered.

  “Is that enough, do you think?” I asked.

  “With the addition of myself, it will be more than enough.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Daoud, nodding vigorously. “No robber would dare rob the Father of Curses.”

  “Or Daoud, famous for his strength and justly feared by malefactors,” said Ramses in his most flowery Arabic. “Nevertheless, I will join you tonight if you will permit me.”

  “And me,” Nefret said eagerly.

  “Certainly not,” said Emerson, jarred out of his archaeological preoccupation by this offer.

  “Professor, darling,” Nefret began, raising cornflower-blue eyes to his.

  “No, I said! I want those plates developed tonight. You can help her, Peabody , and bring our excavation diary up-to-date.”

  “Very well,” I said.

  “It is absolutely imperative that we—” Emerson broke off. “What did you say?”

  “I said, very well. Now come along to the house and get your camping gear together. Selim, I will send food for you and the others back with the Professor and Ramses.”

  We had left the horses at Mena House, where there was proper stabling for them. As we walked along the road toward the hotel, I took Emerson’s arm and let the children draw ahead.

  “I know this is an exciting discovery, my dear, but pray do not allow it to blind you to other urgent matters.”

  “Exciting,” Emerson repeated. “Hmmm, yes. What do you mean?”

  “Emerson, for pity’s sake! Have you forgotten that Ramses means to go tonight to meet that gang of murderers? I want you to keep him with you.”

  “I had not forgotten.” Emerson put his hand over mine, where it rested on his sleeve. “And there is not a damned thing I can do to prevent him from going. David will be waiting for him, and David is at risk too. Matters have gone too far for either of them to withdraw from this business. I will dismiss him from guard duty later. Selim and the others will believe he has gone home.”

  From Manuscript H

  His father’s help made it much easier for him to absent himself without arousing suspicion. He had expected an argument with his mother, whose recent attack of protectiveness had surprised him as much as it secretly pleased him; however, she gave in after making a number of preposterous suggestions, which his father firmly vetoed. Not until later did it occur to Ramses that she hadn’t been serious when she proposed those outrageous disguises. Surely not even his mother believed she could walk the streets of Cairo at that hour in burko and black robe, or prowl the alleys in a fez and a hastily hemmed galabeeyah!

  The original meeting had been set for the previous night, at the same cafй where they had met the Turk. Obedient little rabbits that they were, they would almost certainly turn up again the following night. He went in through the back entrance this time, and would have had his throat slit by Farouk if he hadn’t anticipated some such possibility. Looking down at the boy, who was sprawled on the floor rubbing his shin, he said pleasantly, “I take it you were not expecting me?”

  The only one of the others who had moved was Asad. He was under the table. A chorus of sighs and murmured thanks to Allah broke out, and Asad got sheepishly to his feet.

  “We didn’t know what to think! Where have you been? Farouk said you had been shot, and we were afraid—”

  “Farouk was right.”

  Shock replaced the relief on their faces. Ramses had been joking when he expressed his intention of displaying his injuries, but he was suddenly overcome by one of those melodramatic impulses that seemed to run in his family. Slowly, taking his time, he slipped his arm out of the sleeve of his robe, untied the cord at the neck of his shirt, and pulled it off his shoulder. Fatima ’s green ointment added a colorful note to the bruised flesh and unhealed gashes. Asad covered his mouth with his hand and looked sick.

  “Which one of you fired the shot?” Ramses asked.

  Farouk had started to get up. He sat down with a thud and held up his hands. “Why do you look at me? It was not I! I shot at the man who tried to kill you! He was hiding. He had a rifle. He…”

  “Calm yourself,” Ramses said irritably. He laced up his shirt and slid his arm back into his robe. “A fine revolutionary you make! If you tried to creep up on a sentry he’d hear you ten yards off, and then you’d probably kill the wrong man. The rest of you keep quiet. Did any of you see who the purported assassin was?”

  “No.” Asad twisted his thin, ink-stained hands. “We thought—the Turk? Don’t be angry. We searched for him, and for you. And we brought the guns back. They are—”

  “I know. Have you heard anything about the next delivery?”

  “Yes.” Asad nodded vigorously. “Farouk has been at Aslimi’s shop—”

  “I know. Whose brilliant idea was that?”

  Asad looked guilty, but then he always did. The nom de guerre he had chosen meant “lion.” It couldn’t have been more inappropriate.

  “Someone had to!” he quavered. “Aslimi has taken to his bed. It is his stomach. He has—”

  “Pains after he eats,” Ramses interrupted. “I know that too. Someone had to take his place, I grant you that. Why Farouk?”

  “Why not?” Farouk demanded. “I know the business, the—”

  “Be quiet. When is the delivery?”

  “It is for a week from tomorrow—the same time—the ruined mosque south of the cemetery where Burckhardt’s tomb is.”

  “I’ll be there. And, Farouk—”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Initiative is an admirable quality, but don’t carry it too far.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you know what I mean. Don’t be tempted to make your own arrangements with our temporary allies. They are using us for their own purpose, and that purpose is not ours. Do you suppose the Ottoman Empire would tolerate an independent Egypt ?”

  “But they promised,” Bashir began.

  “They lied,” Ramses said curtly. “They always lie. If the Turks win, we will only exchange one set of rulers for another. If the British win, they will suppress a revolt without mercy, and most of us will die. Our best and only hope of achieving our goal is to use one side against the other. I know how to play that game. You don’t. Have I made myself clear?”

  Nods and murmurs of agreement indicated that he had convinced them. Not even Farouk had the courage to ask him to elaborate. Ramses decided he had better go before someone did ask; he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about.

  “You are leaving us?” Farouk scrambled to his feet. “Let us go with you, to make sure you are safe. You are our leader, we must protect you.”

  �
��From whom?” He smiled at the beautiful face that was gazing soulfully at him. The dark-fringed eyes fell, and Ramses said gently, “Do not follow me, Farouk. You aren’t very good at that either.”

  He was in no mood for gymnastics that night, so he hoped the unsubtle hint would have the desired effect. The others would be suspicious of Farouk now—and serve him right, the little swine—but he made certain there was no one on his trail before he approached the tram station. Trains were infrequent at this hour, but he wasn’t in the mood for a ten-mile hike either. Squatting on a hard bench in the odorous confines of a third-class carriage, he again considered alternate methods of transportation and again dismissed them. The motorbicycles made too much noise, and Risha was too conspicuous.

  It took him almost an hour to reach Maadi. He approached the house from the back. It was unlighted, as were all the others in that huddle of lower-class dwellings—the remains of the old village, now surrounded and in part supplanted by elegant new villas. There were few streetlights even in the new section, and this area was pitch-black. He wouldn’t have seen the motionless form, only slightly darker than the wall against which it stood, if he had not been looking for it.

  David grasped his outstretched hand and then motioned toward the open window. “How did it go?”

  “No trouble. I hope you didn’t wait up for me last night.”

  They spoke in the low voices that were less carrying than whispers. Once they were inside the room, David said, “I was watching for you, but I didn’t really suppose you’d be able to get away from Aunt Amelia. Was Farouk there tonight?”

  “Mmmm. Innocent as a cherub and sticking to his story. The next delivery is Tuesday, the old mosque near Burckhardt’s tomb. David, it has occurred to me, somewhat belatedly, that you had better find new quarters. If Father knows about this place, it may be known to others.”

  “A man came here yesterday. A stranger.”

  “Damnation! What did he look like?”

  “I wasn’t here. Mahira couldn’t give me much of a description; the poor old girl is as blind as a mole and getting more senile by the day.”

  “That settles it. We’re leaving now, tonight. You ought to have vacated the premises as soon as you heard.”

  “You wouldn’t have known where I was.”

  “And you wanted to make certain there was no one lying in wait for me when I came? David, please do me the favor of trying not to get yourself killed on my account. I’ve enough on my conscience as it is.”

  “I’m doing my best.” David put a hand on Ramses’s shoulder. “Where shall I go?”

  “I’ll leave that to you. Some safe, flea-ridden hovel in Old Cairo or Boulaq, I suppose. God, I hate doing this to you.”

  “Not as much as I hate doing it.” David had gathered his scanty possessions and was tying them into a bundle. “You know what I miss most? A proper bath. I dream of lying in that tub of Aunt Amelia’s, with hot water up to my chin.”

  “Not the food? Mother wanted me to bring you a parcel of leftover turkey and plum pudding.”

  “ Fatima ’s plum pudding?” David sighed wistfully. “Couldn’t you have secreted a small slice under your shirt?”

  “Yes, right. I’d have had rather a time explaining that, if it had tumbled onto the floor while I was kicking Farouk’s feet out from under him.”

  David stopped halfway out the window and turned to stare at him. “I thought you said nothing happened.”

  “Nothing of importance. Go on, I’m getting edgy.”

  David took him across the river in the small boat they had acquired for that purpose. On the way Ramses explained what had happened with Farouk.

  “Reasonable behavior, I suppose,” David admitted, pulling at the oars. “They must have been rather worried.”

  “Yes. Farouk is the only one of the lot who has any fighting instincts. Poor old Asad was petrified. I hope I can get him out of this and talk some sense into him. He’s a braver man than Farouk. He’s afraid all the time, and yet he sticks.”

  And you’re a braver man than I am, Ramses thought, watching his friend bend and straighten with the oars. If I had a wife who adored me and a child on the way, I wouldn’t have risked myself in a stunt like this one.

  For a few seconds the soft splash of water was the only thing that broke the silence. Then Ramses said thoughtfully, “Farouk made one little slip tonight. He claimed the man who fired first used a rifle. But the first shot wasn’t from a rifle, it was from a pistol, like the ones that followed, and if Farouk was aiming at someone other than me, he was a damned poor shot. It’s not absolute proof, but I think we had better gather Farouk into the loving arms of the law. I’ll try to arrange a meeting with Russell. I know we aren’t supposed to be seen together, but we’ll have to risk it.”

  “Why?” David demanded. “Can’t you tell me what you’ve got in mind and let me pass it on?”

  “It’s just as risky for you to meet with him as it is for me,” Ramses said. “I’ll tell you, though, in case I can’t reach Russell, or in case… This is a perfect opportunity to get Farouk out of the way without involving me. If the police raided Aslimi’s shop, I wouldn’t have much trouble convincing my associates that Aslimi had finally cracked and confessed.”

  “Aslimi had better be put in protective custody, then.”

  “That’s part of the plan, yes.” Ramses laughed softly. “He’ll probably be relieved as hell. When I see the Turk Tuesday, we will arrange an alternative drop.”

  The current carried them downstream, so that he was not far from Giza when they landed. They sat in silence for a time. It was a beautiful night, with a small crescent moon hanging in the net of stars, and good-byes were difficult when there was always a chance they would not meet again. “Just in case” was a phrase both of them had learned to hate.

  “Is there anything else you should tell me?” David asked.

  “I don’t think so.” David’s very silence was a demand. After a moment Ramses said, “All right, then. It’s possible that Farouk was planted on us by the other side. That’s what I would do if I weren’t entirely confident of the reliability of my temporary allies. If this is the case and if he can be persuaded to talk, he could lead us to the man in charge of operations here in Cairo . You know what that would mean, don’t you? We could put an end to this business within a few days.”

  David’s breath caught. “It would be too much to hope for.”

  The pain and longing in his friend’s voice stabbed Ramses with renewed guilt. He said roughly, “Don’t hope. I’ve no proof, only what Mother would call a strong premonition. In any case, Farouk is dangerous, and the sooner we remove him, the safer for us. I’d better go before I fall asleep. Can you let me know where to find you? Our emergency method—use hieroglyphs, sign Carter’s name, and hire a messenger to deliver it.”

  David steadied the boat as he climbed out. “I’ll tell you on Tuesday.”

  Ramses slipped on the muddy bank, caught himself, and spun round to face his friend.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” David said. “Do you suppose I’d let you go alone after what happened last time? I’ll find a place to hide and be in concealment before sundown. No one will know I’m there. And I might just get a clue as to where your friend the Turk has come from.”

  “I can’t stop you, can I?”

  “Not in your present condition.” David sounded amused. “I’ll contact you somewhere along the homeward path. Look for a dancing girl in gauzy pantaloons.”

  After Nefret and I had developed the photographs I sent her to bed and retired to my own room. Needless to say, I was still lying sleepless in the dark, my door ajar, when I finally heard the sound I had been waiting for—not footsteps, for Ramses walked lightly as a cat, but the soft click of the latch when he opened the door of his room.

  I was wearing my dressing gown but not my slippers. I do not believe I made any noise at all. However, when I approached Ramses’s door he was waiting for me. Putting on
e hand over my mouth, he drew me into the room and shut the door.

  “Stand still while I light a lamp,” he whispered.

  “How did you know I would—”

  “Sssh.”

  He tossed the bundled-up robe and turban he had worn that night onto the bed. Seshat sniffed curiously at it. The smell was certainly pungent.

  “I thought you might wait up for me,” Ramses said softly. “Though I hoped you would not. Go back to bed, Mother. It’s all right.”

  “David?”

  “He was annoyed with me because I didn’t bring the plum cake. You had better get some sleep. Father will have us up at dawn.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that house in Maadi. If your father knew its location—”

  “David left the place tonight.”

  “Was that handsome young man—Farouk?—at the meeting?”

  “Yes.” He began unbuttoning his shirt. It was another hint, which I ignored.

  “In my opinion, you ought to have the shop raided and Farouk taken into custody at once.”

  Ramses stared at me. His eyes were very wide and very dark. “There are times when you terrify me, Mother,” he said, under his breath. “What put that idea into your head?”

  “Logical ratiocination,” I explained, pleased to have got his attention. “The enemy has no reason to trust Wardani. If they are sensible people, as the Germans are known to be, they would place a spy in the organization. Farouk’s behavior has been highly suspicious. At the least, arresting him will remove a potential source of danger to you, and at best he might be persuaded to betray his employer, who is almost certainly—”

  “Yes, Mother.” Ramses sat down rather heavily on the side of the bed. “Believe it or not, I had come to the same conclusion.”

  “Good. Then all we need do is present the plan to Mr. Russell and insist he carry it out.”

  “Insist?” He rubbed his unshaven chin, and the corners of his mouth turned up. “I suppose you have also worked out a method of communicating with Russell?”