Part 30 (1/2)
”I will discuss it with your father,” I promised, though I felt like an overburdened donkey who has just had another sack of grain added to his load. ”Perhaps something can be worked out.”
FROM Ma.n.u.sCRIPT H.
Ramses was sitting with Selim reading from the motorcar manual (his aunt Evelyn having admitted defeat) when the door opened and Sethos put his head in. ”Are visitors allowed?”
It was the first time he had seen Selim since the accident. Selim's black eyes brightened and his hand went to his beard. It was certainly more impressive than that of Sethos, though the latter's was coming along nicely. His face was almost back to normal except for a few faded bruises.
”Yes, come,” Selim said eagerly. ”You are still here!”
Leaning against the doorframe, a picture of sartorial elegance in well-cut tweeds, Sethos gave him a friendly grin. ”You didn't suppose I would abandon the family at a time like this? With you out of commission, they need all the help they can get.”
”That is true,” said Selim, starting to nod and then remembering he wasn't supposed to.
”Thank you both for your confidence,” said Ramses.
”You are too honorable,” Selim explained. ”He is not.”
Sethos threw his head back and shouted with laughter. ”Right on the mark, Selim. Is there anything I can do for you?”
”Tell me about the aeroplane,” Selim said eagerly.
”Another time. Fatima said I wasn't to stay. She's bringing your dinner.”
Selim groaned. ”She brings me food, Rabia and Taghrid bring me food, Kadija brings me food. Soon I will be fat.”
”So what are you after, really?” Ramses asked, as they strolled along the path toward the main house. ”Visiting the sick isn't your style.”
”How cynical. I like Selim.” Sethos paused to sniff at a pink rose. ”You're right, though. It was you I was after. Would you care to join me in a visit to the gay and glamorous night life of Luxor? Lovely spot, this,” he added, gazing sentimentally at a vine covered with blue flowers. ”Perhaps when I retire I'll settle down in Luxor. The whole family together, eh?”
Ramses refused the bait. ”Why?”
”To pa.s.s my declining years in the company of my nearest and dearest. Oh-you mean why go to Luxor. I think I may be on to something.”
He refused to elaborate, claiming that he wanted an independent judgment. His announcement of their intentions was met with raised eyebrows, but without comment, at least not at dinner. When Ramses went to change, Nefret went with him.
”What is this about?” she asked.
”He says he's on to something.”
She watched curiously as he selected the suit he intended to wear. ”Black tie? Where are you going?”
”He wouldn't say.”
”Someplace respectable, at least,” Nefret said, ”That's a relief. Are you going to take your knife?”
”It doesn't go with evening kit.”
She did not return his smile. ”It goes with Uncle Sethos. Please.”
THE SO-CALLED NIGHT LIFE of Luxor ranged from the repellent to the respectable. The cafes and drinking establishments that catered to tourists were located along the corniche; a few were relatively harmless, but evening clothes would have been glaringly out of place in any of them. The hotels, especially those of the top category, were the centers of social activity for upper-cla.s.s visitors and residents. The tourist steamers and dahabeeyahs drawn up along the bank formed a narrow floating residential street. Lights shone from the decks and saloons.
Their first stop was the Winter Palace, where Sethos was obviously known and welcome. He was choosy about which table to select, and when the waiter hurried up to take their order he said, ”Nothing tonight, Habib. But there will be baksheesh for you if you tell the Brother of Demons what you told me.”
”About the Italian gentleman and the lady?” Habib asked, with a nod of greeting for Ramses. He extended a thin brown hand.
They visited two other hotels, the Savoy and the Tewfikieh, on the road to Karnak, and got the same story, though not the same description of the ”lady.” At the latter establishment, which claimed the optimistic designation of ”Grand-Hotel,” Sethos ordered whiskey and invited Ramses's comments.
”One t.i.tian-haired, one dark, one fair,” Ramses said. A breeze rustled the leaves of the arbor over their heads. ”Martinelli was quite a ladies' man.”
”Come now,” said Sethos, with a grin.
”The same woman?”
”He acquired female acquaintances in other places. I've already eliminated them, and a d.a.m.ned tedious ch.o.r.e it was. This one was different. A lady, well-dressed, quiet and very retiring. Except for the hair, the descriptions were the same. Approximately five feet three inches, shapely figure, young.”
”None of the waiters recognized her?”
”They all claim they had never set eyes on her before. But I think you have.”
”Hathor?” Ramses thought it over. ”The description fits, such as it is.”
”It must be the same woman. This is the connection between two seemingly unrelated parts of the pattern, and it explains how Martinelli was lured to his death. He'd follow a woman anywhere.”
Ramses ran his fingers through his hair. It was late, and he was tired, but several other pieces of the pattern were falling into place. ”So he 'borrowed' the jewelry in order to impress her. Offered it to her, perhaps, in exchange for favors she had withheld. He had no intention of paying so high a price, though. It would have meant the end of his lucrative job with Cyrus, and the police on his trail. What a dirty little swine he was.”
Sethos lifted his gla.s.s and set it down again, making a pattern of interlocking rings on the table. ”A moralist would say he got what he deserved. She agreed to sell her favors, with no more intention of carrying out her share of the bargain than he, and he went panting after her, too blinded by l.u.s.t to wonder why she was leading him into a remote part of Luxor; and in a dark, verminous alley his doom awaited him, as Amelia might put it. He was probably dead before he knew what had happened.”
”They bundled him up and tossed him over a donkey and carried him out into the desert.” Ramses continued the story. ”They took the jewelry, and everything else that might have identified him, and left him for the jackals.”
”It was as easy as taking candy from a child,” Sethos said, bland and unmoved. He sounded almost admiring. ”Brilliantly planned, really. One had only to look at the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d to know he had had no success with the sort of woman he wanted. No woman of taste would have touched him with a barge pole. He was ripe for the plucking, and she plucked him like a goose.”
”Why? If it's the princesses' treasure she's after . . .” He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. ”Could that be it?”
”Why ask me? I'm a reformed character,” said his uncle virtuously. ”If I were after it-and don't give me that fishy stare, I'm not-I wouldn't go about it in such a disorganized fas.h.i.+on. I certainly wouldn't arrange a series of haphazard attacks; they've only succeeded in putting you on the qui vive. No. What I'd do is bide my time, lull you into a sense of false security, and then strike. I could break into that locked room in sixty seconds, and with a dozen well-trained villains helping me, clear out everything that's portable and be away from Luxor before morning.”
”I'll bet you could, at that,” Ramses muttered.
”It would be an attractive challenge,” Sethos mused. He leaned back and lit a cigarette. His face took on a dreamy expression. ”Transport arranged in advance . . . ready admission to the Castle for a trusted friend . . . servants asleep in their wing of the house . . . Cyrus gently escorted back to his room and locked in, with his wife . . .”
He sighed regretfully and blew out a wobbly smoke ring.
”It must be quite a temptation,” Ramses said, with unwilling amus.e.m.e.nt. His uncle's expression was that of a man remembering a particularly successful romantic interlude. ”How you must miss the good old days, before Mother reformed you. Or has she?”
”Mmmm.” Sethos put out his cigarette and leaned forward, elbows on the table, no longer smiling. ”Believe this, if you can. I swore to her I would never interfere with their work again. That goes for Cyrus too. I don't steal from my friends.”
”Does that mean-”