Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (41 page)

safety of my daughter is concerned . . .You said you loved her once. I think you still do. You had no intention of giving her up, did you? And yet you left her in the hands of a murderous brute. If she has been harmed or even handled roughly, I will kill your Syrian friend and then come back and kill you." Sweat poured down the man's face. "I am willing to strike a bargain. No, listen! You cannot get her away from Mubashir without my help, I am the only one he'll listen to. I will go with you and order him to release her if you promise to let me go." Emerson is accustomed to get his own way, without compromise or bargaining. His eyes narrowed into slits of sapphirine fire. "We must discuss it," I said. "Come with me, Emerson. Selim, watch him." We went together out into the sunlight. Under my restraining hand Emerson's arm was hard as granite. "We must agree, Emerson," I said softly. "I share your admiration for Ramses's abilities, but even he has his limits. He may also be a prisoner, or ... Kuentz has nothing to lose. He already faces the death penalty." "So we let him get away with . . . how many? Three murders? Four?" I remembered something Nefret had once said. "Is it wrong to care so much about someone that nothing else matters?" In the last extremity, when a loved one is at risk, nothing else matters. Certainly nothing so abstract as justice. It is, after all, a concept defined by men. "Yes," I said. Instead of replying, Emerson emitted a wordless shout and began to run. I turned and saw them coming, holding one another's hands, the sunlight bright on Nefret's golden hair. I started toward them, rather quickly, but not running ... Not very fast, at any rate. Emerson had enveloped his daughter in a close embrace. I looked at my son. He gave me a rather tentative smile. "I apologize for my appearance, Mother. We came straight here, since we thought you might be ... Mother?" Arms, breast, face, side, hand ... I gave up the attempt to tally his wounds. "Another shirt ruined," I said, and threw my arms around him. The remainder of that day was something of a bustle, what with arranging for the shrine to be guarded and the prisoner removed, tending to the wounded, and bringing one another up-to-date. Our celebratory preprandial gathering in the beautifully appointed sitting room of the Castle included only part of the group. Sennia was with Jumana, delighted to have another sick person to look after. Sethos was tucked up in bed with Margaret watching over him-or standing guard over him, to put it another way. What would transpire with those two I did not know, but it had been evident to me for some time that he had now, if he had not had before, a certain interest in her. I had sent William to relieve Daoud. My necessarily brief explanations confused him a great deal, I believe, but he was obviously pleased to have such responsibility rested upon him. "He suffers from a lack of self-confidence," I explained, as Cyrus handed round the whiskey. "That is why he behaved so suspiciously. Self-doubt leads to paranoia and feelings of guilt. It is a well-known psychological fact-" "I don't want to hear about it," said Emerson. "Me neither," said Cyrus. "I'll give Amherst a job if he wants one; I can use him. But I don't want to talk about him. Well, what shall we drink to first?" My eyes moved round the room-from Bertie, whose ingenuous countenance still displayed some perplexity; to his mother, relieved at last of her anxieties; to Ramses and Nefret, seated side by side on the sofa, their fingers entwined; to Cyrus's lined, smiling face; and to my dear Emerson, who was not even listening. "What?" he said. "To friends and loved ones," I said. "To another miraculous escape," Cyrus amended. "There was nothing miraculous about it," Emerson declared. "Good Gad, we have had considerable practice at this sort of thing; all that is required is courage and strength, superior intelligence, quick wits, the ability to respond instantly to unexpected emergencies-" "And the help of our friends," I said modestly. "Yes, ma'am," Bertie burst out. "And I take it most unkindly, if you will allow me to say so, that you wouldn't let me-" "We will let you take a hand next time," I said. "If there is a next time," Bertie exclaimed. "There will be," said Emerson. "There always is." "Not this year," I said, giving Katherine an encouraging nod. "I trust not," Emerson said, giving me a hard stare-as if the whole thing had been my fault! "We have enough to do as it is. We will have to stay on for a few weeks, Peabody-but not here," he added hastily. "Wouldn't want to put Katherine and Cyrus out. Can we evict poor old Yusuf--find him another house?" "Leave it to me," I said, waving aside Katherine's polite protestations. Cyrus was lost in wistful speculation. "You'll let me help, won't you? Closest I'll ever come to a major find, I guess. I just don't seem to have the luck. How long do you suppose that statue has been there?" "Since 663 B.C.," Ramses said. "I say!" Bertie exclaimed. "That's deuced clever. How can you be so precise?" Ramses looked at his father. Humming tunelessly and off-key, Emerson reached for his pipe and returned his son's deferential glance with one of expectant interest. "I may be mistaken," Ramses said, "But it is a reasonable guess. The rulership of Thebes changed many times over the years, from northern conquerers to Cushite kings to high priests, but they were all, even the Cushites-especially the Cushites-devout followers of the old gods. There was a certain amount of looting, I daresay, but the shrines would have been sacrosanct. Conquerers boasted of having restored the statues and the offerings. Then, 'the Assyrians came down like a wolf on the fold.'" "Poetry," I murmured. "Not only poetry, but Byron," Ramses admitted. "That is how it must have been, though. 'The sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea.' For the first time in its long history, the city of Thebes was taken and sacked. 'From Thebes I carried away loot rich and beyond measure; two obelisks cast of shining bronze . . .' The Assyrians cared nothing for the gods. Among their booty were the furnishings of the temples and the divine statues-except one. How the priests got it away we will never know-" "Unless there's a papyrus or ostracon in there," Cyrus broke in. "That would be a find, wouldn't it?" Ramses agreed. "Even more important than the statue in some ways. But it must have been a hurried, frantic job, with the Assyrians advancing-already on the east bank, perhaps-and they hoped to retrieve it one day. They must have been killed defending the city. All knowledge of the location was lost." "Until Jamil found it," I said. "What will become of him?" "What has become of him, you mean," Emerson said. "Nefret cannot have wounded him seriously, or he would not have been able to take her horse and get clean away. We still don't know how deeply he was involved. Kuentz isn't talking. In a way, I hope the boy doesn't come back. He would face a prison sentence at the very least, and that would bring disgrace on the whole family." It did seem likely, as we all agreed, that Jamil had been the original discoverer of the shrine; otherwise Kuentz would never have enlisted him as an ally. He had worked for Kuentz, among others; either Kuentz had caught him in the act or Jamil had had enough sense to realize that he could not dispose of the incredible find by himself, and guided, perhaps, by the instinct that allows one morally corrupt individual to recognize another, he had approached Kuentz. Speculation could carry us no further, so we abandoned it for the nonce. A few more congratulatory speeches and a trifle more whiskey concluded the evening. It was not until the following morning that I was able to arrange a conference that would, I expected, answer my remaining questions. It took place in Sethos's sickroom. The only other persons present were our four selves, for the matters under discussion were of a nature that could not be disclosed to anyone else, not even our dearest friends-or Margaret Minton. I had not informed my brother-in-law of my intentions; with most men, particularly the members of the Emerson family, advance warning is a tactical error. However, I paid him the courtesy of waiting until the servant informed me he had finished breakfast, and was up and dressed, before I knocked. When he saw who it was he put down the book he had been reading, and sat in surly silence while the others filed in. I was pleased to see that he had shaved that morning and that he was looking quite respectable in a shirt and trousers borrowed from Ramses. The two of them were almost the same size. After I had locked the door I invited everyone to sit down. "By all means," Sethos said. "A private little family conference, is it? Margaret told me about your activities yesterday, so you needn't go over them again. Congratulations on your discovery." "Dammit, man, is that all you have to say?" Emerson demanded. "I am somewhat curious about one thing." "And what is that?" I asked. He turned those strange gray-green eyes on Ramses. "How the devil did you get her away from Mubashir?" "It wasn't very nice of you to let him go alone if you thought he couldn't," I said critically. "But I feel obliged to remark that from what little I have been allowed to hear of the affair, it would be impossible to praise too highly the courage and cleverness and skill and-" "Mother, he's doing it again," Ramses interrupted. "Don't let him get you off the subject, or we'll be here all day." "Quite," said Emerson. "You have an agenda, I believe, Peabody. I suggest you stick to it." "Certainly, my dear." I unfolded the papers I had taken from my pocket, spread them out on the table, and cleared my throat. "This won't take long. Assuming, of course, that our-er- kinsman does not continue to equivocate." "Kinsman," Sethos repeated. "On the whole, Amelia, I would prefer-" "Perhaps it would be better if I simply stated the facts." His lips parted, but long years of experience with Ramses, and to some extent, Emerson, had taught me how to turn a conversation into a monologue. Raising my voice slightly, I continued. "You are still working for British intelligence. You were sent here to ascertain the intentions of the Senussi and the extent to which they had influenced the desert tribes. Mr. Bracedragon . . . Mr. Boisgirdle . . . Mr. Smith is the person to whom you report. You met with him the evening you went to the Winter Palace." Up to this point I was on solid ground. The rest of it was somewhat problematic, and I hesitated, trying to think how to get the confirmation I needed before committing myself. One look at Sethos told me I was not going to get any help from him. He had tilted his chair back and was watching me with a mocking smile. "What shall we do with Mr. Kuentz?" I inquired. The front legs of the chair thudded onto the floor. "Why are you asking me?" he demanded, with an unconvincing show of surprise. "The matter is a trifle delicate, is it not? Our friends are under the impression that we arrested Mr. Kuentz because he was a murderer and tomb robber-which is good and sufficient cause. Your superiors may not wish it known that he is also a German spy." "I might have known you would arrive at that conclusion," Sethos muttered. "It was obvious," said Emerson, folding his arms and trying to look as if he had known it all along. "Well, it was, rather," I admitted. "Ramses's encounter with poor Mr. Asad could only have been arranged by someone who knew the role Ramses had played the previous winter-in other words, an agent of Turkish or German intelligence-but I cannot blame myself for failing to give that interesting clue the importance it deserved, since the attacks on us continued even after Ramses had left Cairo. Everything that happened from then on was designed to keep us in Cairo and bring Ramses back. That was what confused me initially, the fact that our adversary had two roles and two motives. I even considered the possibility that there were two different people involved: an enemy spy, who had sent Mr. Asad to prevent Ramses from returning to his activities on behalf of the War Office, and an archaeologist, who had found something of value in Luxor which he had determined to exploit for his own gain. Of all people on earth we were the most likely to interfere with such a discovery, not only because of our expert knowledge of the area but because of the bonds of friendship and loyalty that unite us with the members of dear Abdullah's family. Emerson's influence with them is paramount, his reputation awe-inspiring. Kuentz feared that once in his presence, Jamil might break down and confess. He was mistaken about that, for the wretched boy's desire for power and wealth was stronger than loyalty; but he had good reason to be concerned." "I'm surprised he didn't simply kill Jamil," Nefret said. "The murder of a member of our family would have brought us here at once, Nefret. Besides, he needed Jamil to spy on you and Ramses and report your activities to him." "Get on with it, Peabody," Emerson grunted. "Where was I?" I consulted my notes. "Ah, yes. Mr. Kuentz is a German agent, but he is also an archaeologist, and a good one. He recognized that the statue was the discovery of a lifetime; and although he continued to carry out his original assignment, his primary motive from then on was to make himself rich. I daresay he is not the only man who would be seduced from duty by such a prize." "I understand his point of view quite well," said Sethos meditatively. Being accustomed to his attempts at provocation and distraction, I silenced him with a stern look and went on. "You knew or assumed that the Central Powers had a man in Luxor. I will not ask how you knew, since you wouldn't answer me, claiming that it is classified information-which it may be-but it would be logical for them to do so. Your role was to find out who he was and what he was doing. In pursuit of these aims you made several trips to Kharga Oasis-as Kuentz had done. The place is a hotbed of subversion, and readily accessible by rail, as the other oases are not. You learned that your counterpart had been there, but nothing more that would enable you to identify him." I turned over another page. "It came as a considerable surprise to you, I expect, to find that someone was impersonating you. Why? you must have asked yourself. Could it be that this individual was the German spy you sought, making use of your notorious-er- well-known prestige to win adherents? Or"-I paused to catch my breath-"could it be that there was another player and that the prize was an archaeological discovery of great value?" "I thought you were going to state facts," Sethos said. "Those were rhetorical questions," I explained. "But if you would care to answer them ..." "Why not?" said my brother-in-law, with an appearance of candor that aroused