Children Of The Storm Part 35

"Yes, my dear, I know." He gave her a quick glance over his shoulder and smiled. "a bientot."

That said it all, really. Not good-bye. See you soon. "a bientot," Nefret said.

EL-GHARBI BADE US FAREWELL with unconcealed glee. We were deeply in his debt now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before we received a demand, couched as an obsequious request, for recompense. We cut his courtesies short and hurried away. I did not want to miss the train. Trains are always late when one is on time, and on time when one is late. I kept telling myself there was no need for haste but I failed to convince myself. Our discovery had altered the entire picture.

We arrived at the station at Esna in ample time. The train was late. There were only a few English persons on the platform-students, to judge by their youth and their casual clothing. The vendors of fake antiquities identified us at a glance (those who did not know Ramses personally recognized my parasol and my belt of tools) and left us alone. Other merchants were selling water, fruit, and vegetables. I took a seat on the single bench, next to a gray-bearded gentleman holding a rooster. The gentleman bared a mouthful of brown teeth and greeted me effusively. The rooster c.o.c.ked its head and gave me a hot, mad glare. Ramses paced up and down, circling groups of squatting Egyptians who were accustomed to such delays and who whiled away the time nibbling on sweetmeats and gossiping. I too was accustomed to such delays, but as the sun sank into the west and the shadows lengthened, the knowledge we had gained that day lay more and more heavily on my shoulders.

The rooster stretched out its neck and gave me a sharp peck on the arm. I accepted the apologies of its owner but I could no longer sit still. Rising, I joined Ramses, who had stopped to chat with a small party consisting of a man and a woman and a babe in arms. The young mother was unconcernedly suckling her infant, while her husband talked with Ramses and scratched his stomach.

"Are you hungry, Mother?" he asked. "They have kindly offered to share their dinner."

The man fished a chunk of gray bread out of the basket beside him and offered it to me. His hand and the bread were both extremely dirty, and I felt sure he was covered with fleas, but his generosity and his smile were so gracious that I would have taken the bread, and my chances with fleas and disease, had I not suspected that there was not much food in the basket. They were very young and their garments were threadbare.

I explained in my best Arabic that I thanked them for their kindness, but that I had just eaten, and drew Ramses away.

"Can you give them some money?" I whispered. "Without offending them?"

"Poverty does not allow a man the luxury of pride," said Ramses, with a twist of his lips. "I will take care of it, but if I start handing out baksheesh openly, everyone else will ask."

The train tracks stretched emptily into the distance, s.h.i.+ning in the sunset. "Curse it," I burst out. "Where is the cursed train? We are going to be very late, and your father will be fuming."

"So will Nefret. But they will forgive us-inshallah!-when they hear. Mother, we're within a few hours of ending this business. Be patient."

"Emerson will be knocked into a c.o.c.ked hat," I agreed, not without a certain relish.

Ramses's face relaxed. "I don't think you mean that, Mother."

"It is the wrong expression? I am endeavoring to improve my command of current idiom," I explained. "Some of the new slang words are extremely expressive. Never mind, you know what I meant."

"Quite." A pigeon flapped between my feet, and he took my arm. "I was knocked for a loop too. Who could have suspected that Bertha had two children?"

"The children of the storm," I mused. "Is it only an odd coincidence that Set was the G.o.d of storm and chaos?"

"Yes," Ramses said curtly.

"Quite. I believe you have never known me to succ.u.mb to- Oh, thank heaven, there is the train at last."

FROM Ma.n.u.sCRIPT H.

Nefret had wrapped a bit of cloth round the head of the nail. It served as some protection, but her fingers kept cramping. The wood was soft. She had sc.r.a.ped away enough to expose a half-inch length of the shaft. It moved a bit when she tried to wriggle it, but it was too deeply sunk to be pulled out with her fingers and she had nothing to use as a lever.

The lamp had long since expired. It seemed long, but there was no way of measuring time in the stifling darkness. Her throat was dry and the slosh of water in the invisible jar was a constant temptation.

She knew now that she wouldn't break down. Being with one of the Emerson men-and at least one of the women-even briefly, was like a shot of adrenaline for a faltering heart. She couldn't imagine what Emerson could do, but he had promised he would get her out of this and against all reason she believed him.

The others wouldn't be idle, but it might take them a while to put two and two together-her absence and that of Emerson, the departure of the Isis. At least they knew where she had gone; Nisrin would tell them. Emerson might not have bothered to inform anyone. He had come after her as soon as that mysterious memory returned-on the road to Deir el Medina, since he had been only a few minutes behind her.

If they hadn't been interrupted, she would know what it was he had remembered, and why it had sent him rus.h.i.+ng after her. If the village of El-Hilleh was the key, Ramses and/or his mother must know too, and if the knowledge was so important they might also be in danger. She thought of her husband, picturing him in her mind-the tall strength of him, the curling black hair he kept trying to flatten, the smile that warmed his lean brown face-reaching out, stretching the mental sense that bound them together. She had always known when he was threatened with death or injury. There was no such feeling now.

She wiped her stinging eyes on her sleeve. Perspiration, not tears, she told herself.

Maryam. It all came back to Maryam. Emerson refused to believe the girl was the one primarily responsible, but that was only because he was soft-hearted and sentimental. Nefret dug viciously into the wood. The nail slipped, digging a long ineffectual gouge, and her numbed fingers lost their grip. She heard the nail hit the floor and bounce. She knelt and felt around for it. No luck.

I'll just rest a little, she thought, slumping against the wall. Rest and try to think. Emerson, soft-hearted and sentimental . . . And jealous. Jealousy was responsible for the case he had constructed against Sethos. It had sounded convincing when he stated it, but the case against Maryam was even stronger. She knew something about disguise, enough to fool a vague old woman and seduce a vain man. Her mother had been deeply involved with the criminal underworld. Bertha had even formed her own group, a criminal organization of women. Enlisting prost.i.tutes had been one of Bertha's brighter ideas; exploited and mistreated, they had unique opportunities to gather information that could be used for blackmail or murder. What had become of those women? Women like Layla, who had in the end turned against her leader and saved Ramses's life; women like the formidable female, strong and st.u.r.dy as a man, who had been Bertha's aide-de-camp in several of the latter's crimes.

The stories had become part of family legendry, told and retold, wild as any romance and embroidered with the pa.s.sage of time. There had been equally preposterous stories about Sethos in his unregenerate days, and about Bertha, who had been Sethos's mistress after she left the man known as Schlange . . . another of the innumerable enemies the parents had encountered . . . what a long list it was . . .

Her head dropped with a jerk, bringing her back to consciousness. Breathing was an effort. Swallowing was impossible. There was no air in the room, only darkness and heat and thirst. She knew she would have to risk a drink soon or fall into a stupor that could end in death. Perhaps that was what they intended. No marks on the body, no signs of violence.

It was impossible to think of oneself as a body, a thing, the thinking mind, the laughter and loving obliterated forever, to imagine the world going on without one. She thought of her children, and anguish wrenched her. But they were so young, so surrounded by loving care; in a few years she would be nothing more to them than a face in a faded photograph. Ramses wouldn't forget, any more than she could ever forget him. But there would be other women. She couldn't expect him to remain celibate forever, not Ramses. He would marry again, if only for the sake of the children.

The thought of him holding another woman in his arms, kissing her upturned face, gave her energy enough to pull herself to her knees. If he does, I'll come back and haunt him, she thought. Like that woman whose husband wrote asking what he had done to offend her, that she continued to torment him after death. Maybe she only wanted to make sure he wouldn't forget her.

She crawled along the wall, feeling for the water jar. Her fumbling hands found it at last-lying on its side in a pool of water. It had cracked when it fell.

She was lying flat, sucking up the tepid liquid, grit and all, when suddenly there was light. She raised herself on her elbows and turned her head. Even those few drops of water had helped, and so did the air, cool and fresh as a night wind by comparison to the noxious mixture she had been breathing. The light was dazzling to eyes long accustomed to darkness. She could see only an outline, standing motionless in the doorway. Then the glow behind it strengthened, s.h.i.+ning on a halo of golden curls. She tried to speak, but could only croak like a frog.

"h.e.l.lo, pretty Mrs. Emerson," said the clear, sweet voice. "Would you like to come out now?"

DARKNESS HAD FALLEN BEFORE THE train arrived in Luxor with a series of self-satisfied chugs and congratulatory blasts on the whistle. So they sounded to me, at any rate; I had taken a strong personal dislike to the train, as if it were deliberately dawdling in order to annoy me. I could hardly wait to tell Emerson that I had solved the case.

As the car slowed and the platform came into sight I peered out the window, braving the smoke and dust. I fully expected I would see Emerson in the forefront of the waiting pa.s.sengers, arms akimbo and brow threatening. In vain did I seek that unmistakable form. Someone else had come to meet us, though. Catching sight of me, he waved and began running alongside the car.

"It's David," I said. "I wonder why Emerson sent him instead of coming himself."

Ramses glanced out the window. "He's got something on his mind. I don't like the look of this, Mother. Stay with me."

I followed close on his heels as he shoved and pushed toward the end of the car, so that we were first in line to exit. The train stopped with a shudder. Ramses swung himself out without waiting for the steps to be put in place, and reached up to lift me down.

"Thank G.o.d!" David exclaimed. "We hoped you would take this train. I've been waiting for over an hour."

I did not have to ask if something was wrong. The deep lines of anxiety on his face, the hard grip of his hand as he seized mine were signs anyone could read.

"The children," I cried, remembering Abdullah's warning. "Has something-"

"No, they're all right. And will be, I've taken precautions." He didn't stop moving, but went on, almost at a run, toward a waiting cab. I had to trot to keep up, which, you may well believe, Reader, I did.

Ramses said softly, "Nefret?"

David knew better than to try to spare him. "Gone. So are the Professor and Maryam. The Isis sailed six hours ago."

Without haste, but with a tighter grip than was strictly necessary, Ramses helped me into the cab. "Six hours ago. What have you done about it?"

David collapsed onto the seat opposite us and waved the driver on. "We didn't realize they were missing until a few hours ago. The Professor had gone back to the house, or so we a.s.sumed, but he wasn't there, and-"

The lights of Luxor flashed past, and the carriage jolted alarmingly. "Take it slowly, David," I said. "You are becoming incoherent. And tell the driver to slow down. I believe he is whipping the horse. You know we never permit that."

Ramses said, "Go on, David. Take it in order. Father wasn't at the house . . ."

David's voice rose. "None of you were there! When n.o.body turned up for tea I thought you might be at the Castle, so I sent Ali to inquire. So much time wasted . . ."

He covered his face with his hands. I jogged his elbow. "Self-recrimination is fruitless, David. I cannot see that you acted irresponsibly. Go on."

David pushed his hat to the back of his head, took a deep breath, and resumed in a calmer voice. "The Vandergelts came, with Mother and Father. They were concerned; said none of you had been there. We started counting heads. That was when we realized Maryam hadn't been seen since last night, nor Nefret since midday. We found the note-your note-in the surgery, so at least we knew where you two had got off to. We had to track Nisrin down, she'd closed the clinic and gone home; it was she who told us Nefret had been sent for by the doctor on the Isis. The boy was ill, he said."

Still at full gallop, the horse turned onto the corniche and I fell heavily against Ramses. He put me back onto my seat with hands as cold and hard as ice.

David shouted at the driver and our headlong pace slackened. There was enough traffic on the road to make this expedient; it was still early by Luxor standards, and the tourists who sought pleasure rather than edification, and those who catered to them, were out in full force. The cold white light of electricity shone from the hotels, the mellower glow of candles and lanterns from shops and houses.

"As soon as we learned where Nefret had gone, we crossed to Luxor, Bertie and I. That's when we found out the Isis was gone. The vendors and shopkeepers along the street had seen Nefret go on board. She didn't come off."

"And Emerson?" I inquired, straightening my hat.

"You told me to take it in order," David replied. "Are you all right, Aunt Amelia?"

"Perfectly." There was a lump the size of a cannonball in my stomach, and I wanted to scream at him.

"Almost there," David said, glancing out the window. "Well, shortly after Nefret boarded, along came the Professor at a dead run. He went pelting up the gangplank, and that was the last anyone saw of him, or Nefret. A short time later the gangplank was hauled in, and the boat sailed."

"We had been seen visiting the Isis," I mused. "The watchers would have no reason to suppose anything was wrong. Which way did it go?"

"We're working on that." The carriage stopped. David jumped out and handed me down. "I'll tell you about it in a minute. Sabir is waiting with his new boat."

Tourist steamers lined the bank, all atwinkle with lights. There was no gap in the line. The Isis's berth had been taken by another boat. When Sabir saw us coming he stood ready to cast off.

"What, then, is the current situation?" I asked, stepping into the boat.

"We decided Bertie should go back to the house to tell the others while I waited for the train. The Isis headed downstream, we learned that much; Bertie said he'd telegraph the police at Hammadi and Qena to watch out for her."

Motionless as a statue, his hands clasped, Ramses said, "Useless. All she has to do is pull in to a landing somewhere, dowse her running lights, and make a few alterations under cover of darkness. A new name, another flag at the stern, and she'd be difficult to spot."

David was no more deceived by that cool voice than I was. "Ramses, I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Done what? It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."

When we reached the house it was buzzing like a beehive and s.h.i.+ning like a Christmas tree, every lamp alight and-as it appeared-a goodly portion of the population of Gurneh mounting guard. Some were pacing up and down, all were talking, and a few brandished rifles. It was illegal for Egyptians to own them, but the authorities tended to turn a blind eye when the owner was a responsible individual. Though I do not generally approve of firearms, I found the sight comforting.

Evelyn was the first to burst out of the house. She flung her arms around me. "Thank G.o.d you are safe, Amelia."

"I was never in danger, my dear," I replied, putting her gently away. "There is no time for that sort of thing now. We must have . . . Ramses, where are you going?"

"I won't be long."

I watched him move away with long, measured strides, and had not the heart to call him back. No a.s.surances are as convincing as the evidence of one's own eyes. He was going to the children.

The others were in the sitting room. Cyrus and Katherine and Bertie, Walter and Lia, Gargery, Daoud and Kadija and Fatima, and . . .

"Selim!" I cried. "Go back to bed at once."

His brown face was a little paler than usual, but he was fully dressed and his neatly wound turban concealed the bandages. "Lie in bed while Emerson and Nur Misur are in danger? My honored father would rise up from his tomb."

"It is true." Daoud nodded. "Now you are here, Sitt Hakim, G.o.d be thanked. You will tell us what to do."

The hard knot in my interior softened a little as I looked round the room. No woman could have had more valiant allies than these. I did not protest, for I knew I would have to have Selim tied to his bed to keep him there. He had a knife at his belt and so did Daoud. Cyrus, too, was armed, with a holstered pistol. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw that Evelyn was gripping my sword parasol. They would obey my slightest command. If only I knew what command to give! I had preserved my outward calm, but inwardly I was in such a confusion of rage and worry I couldn't think sensibly.

Stalling for time, I took a chair and asked, "Where is Sethos?"

"Somewhere around," Cyrus replied. "Said he couldn't sit still, and durned if I blame him."

Ramses and Sethos must have met outside, for they came in together. "Ah, there you are," said the latter, nodding at me. "Hasn't anyone offered you a whiskey and soda?"

Cyrus let out a multisyllabled American exclamation. "Jumping Jehoshaphat, I should have thought of it. How about you, Ramses?"

Ramses shook his head. "What we need is one of Mother's famous councils of war."

Everyone looked expectantly at me. "First," I said, taking the gla.s.s from Cyrus, "tell us what steps you have taken. You telegraphed, Bertie?"

Bertie nodded. He looked absolutely miserable.

Sethos had helped himself to a whiskey. I suspected it was not his first. "That step was necessary, but it may not be of much use. I have taken the liberty of dispatching a number of your fellows to alert the villages between here and Nag Hammadi, and upstream, as far as Esna, in case she changes course. The word will be pa.s.sed on."

"A regular Pony Express," Cyrus said, with an approving nod.

"Donkey express," Sethos corrected. "And a few camels."

"That's all very well and good," said Walter peevishly. "But I do not understand why we are sitting round drinking whiskey and not acting!"

"What else can we do?" I asked.

Walter banged his fist on the table. His mild countenance was no longer mild; his eyes glittered. "Go in pursuit! We have the Amelia, have we not?"

Sethos put his empty gla.s.s on the table and the rest of us gaped at Walter. "I wondered if you would think of that."

"You had, I suppose?" Walter demanded.

"Selim had. That's why he's here. We will need him. There's only a skeleton crew on board, and it would take too long to get Reis Ha.s.san and his engineer back."

"Hmph," said Walter, only slightly appeased and sounding as warlike as Emerson. "Then why haven't we started?"

"Because," said Sethos, in his most irritating drawl, "we cannot start before morning. Aside from the danger of navigation at night, we could go right past the Isis in the dark. And because we were waiting for Amelia and Ramses. And, most importantly, because we need to gather all the facts and plan our strategy before we charge ahead. Suppose we do catch her up, then what? Board her, swords in hand?"

Walter jumped to his feet. He looked twice the man he had been when he arrived in Cairo, and for the first time I saw the resemblance between him and the man he confronted. He s.n.a.t.c.hed his eyegla.s.ses off and threw them across the room. "d.a.m.n you, er-Sethos, are you making fun of me? If swords are required, I will use one!"

Sethos said in quite a different tone, "I beg your pardon . . . brother. I know you would. We had better pray it won't come to that. Sit down, I beg, and let us discuss the situation calmly. Amelia, would you like to take charge of the discussion?"

Before I could begin, Selim rose carefully to his feet. "I am going to the Amelia to begin overhauling the engines. I will have her ready to sail at daybreak."