Lord of the Silent: A Novel of Suspense (2 page)

far Willy had led a charmed life, but if he were wounded and sent home to recuperate, his mother would want to nurse him. "What about Sennia?" Emerson groaned. He adored the little girl, and had missed her desperately the previous year, but the dead children of the Lusitania still haunted him. "She'll be better off here," Ramses said. Nefret turned her head and looked up at him. "You will have to be the one to tell her, then. I simply suggested the possibility last week and she went into one of her tantrums." "The way you women let that child bully you is a disgrace." Ramses's heavy dark brows drew together. "She can control her temper perfectly well when she wants to. She only uses it to get her own way." "Are you volunteering to break the news?" his wife inquired sweetly. "I'd as soon face a charging lion," Ramses said with considerable feeling. Nefret laughed, and I said, "I trust, Ramses, you do not include me in your blanket condemnation of female ineptitude." "Good Lord, no. You're the only one in the family who can handle her. I'm afraid it's up to you, Mother." "Oh, dear," I murmured. "I would really rather not." Nefret let out another of her rich chuckles. "It is comical to see the two of you confronting one another. The resemblance is strong in any case, but when you are both in a temper it's like seeing two Aunt Amelias, one grown up and the other six years old." Though Nefret usually called me Mother, sometimes she slipped and referred to me by the name she had used for so many years. I didn't mind. What I did mind was the assumption-shared, it was clear, by all parties-that it was up to me to reason with Sennia. She seldom tried her tricks on me, but if anything could throw her into a tantrum, it would be the threat of being separated from Ramses. She loved all of us, but he was her idol-foster father, elder brother, playmate, rescuer. "Oh, very well," I said. "I am accustomed to having all the unpleasant tasks left to me. I will speak with her tomorrow. Or the next day." "Or the day after?" Ramses suggested. I gave him a hard look and Nefret gave him a pinch-little reminders that if he continued to amuse himself at my expense he might find himself saddled with the job after all. The lines at the corners of his mouth deepened, but he said meekly, "Thank you, Mother." "Hmph," I said. "That is settled, then. I will begin making my usual lists, and you, Emerson, will find out about sailings. I trust you have not forgotten that we are dining out this evening." None of us enjoys formal dinner parties, and visits to London were not pleasant these days. However, this had been an invitation we could not easily decline. The Cecils were one of the oldest and most prominent of the English noble families. They had served their country as soldiers and parliamentarians; the father of the present marquess had been Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary. Social snobbery is a weakness from which I do not suffer. The first overture from Lord Salisbury had been for a weekend at Hatfield-an invitation for which many would have unhesitatingly sold their souls to Old Nick-but even if I had been inclined to accept, Emerson had put his foot down flatly on that. "Good Gad, Amelia, have you taken leave of your senses? Three days with a mixed bag of vapid women and hunting squires and bleating politicians? I would run amok after three hours." "You know what he wants, don't you?" "Yes," said Emerson, through his teeth. "And he is not going to get it." Salisbury did not give up so easily. A second invitation, to dinner at the family mansion in London, followed soon after my declining the first. I knew perfectly well that he was not moved by a desire to make our acquaintance; he was under pressure from other persons who were not inclined to give up easily either. I pointed this out to my grumbling husband, and he finally agreed that we might as well face his lordship down and put an end to the matter once and for all. He began grumbling again as we dressed, for Emerson hates formal attire. It took the combined efforts of myself and Rose, our devoted housekeeper, to get him into his evening clothes and locate his studs and cufflinks, and he might have backed out if I had not agreed to his demand that he drive the motorcar instead of letting the chauffeur do so. Such little concessions are necessary if the marital state is to flourish. It was a concession on my part, for Emerson drives with a panache that keeps one in a constant state of trepidation. There was less traffic than usual, however; since the zeppelin raids had begun, a blackout was in effect and most people endeavored to get indoors before darkness fell. To be honest, I had forgotten about this or I would not have allowed Emerson to drive. We reached Berkeley Square without incident, however, the only damage being to my nerves. The party was small and intimate-our four selves, Salisbury and his lady, and another gentleman, fair-haired, languidly graceful, smiling, and supercilious. After the other introductions had been performed, Salisbury said, "You know my brother, I believe?" We did. It is impossible not to know other members of the Anglo-Egyptian community in Cairo. Lord Edward Cecil was the Financial Adviser to the Sultan (in other words, he and Englishmen like him ran the government). Our acquaintance with him was slight, since the social set of which he was a prominent member was composed of boring officials and their even more boring ladies. One would have supposed, however, from the warmth of his greeting, that he was among our closest friends. He was particularly gracious to Ramses, whom he and his circle had snubbed the year before because of Ramses's outspoken opposition to the war. If I had had any doubts about the purpose of the evening's entertainment, Lord Edward's behavior would have dispelled them. No one was ill-bred enough to refer to the matter then, or during dinner. The seating arrangements were awkward, owing to the uneven number of guests, but Lady Salisbury had done the best she could, placing me between Salisbury and his brother, and Nefret across the table with Ramses and Emerson. When the butler brought in the decanters, Lady Salisbury rose and caught my eye. I smiled pleasantly at her and remained seated. "You will excuse me, I hope, Lady Salisbury. Since I have a personal interest in the subject the gentlemen intend to discuss, I prefer to join in." Lord Edward's eyes moved from me to Nefret, who looked as if she had taken root on her chair. His elegantly shaped brows lifted. "I told you so, Jimmy." "You needn't rub it in." Like the other gentlemen, Salisbury had risen to his feet. "My dear .. ." Breeding shows. The poor woman had been thrown completely off her stride by my unorthodox behavior, but she was quick to recover. She swept elegantly out of the room and the men resumed their chairs. For a few moments no one spoke. I was waiting, as seemed proper, for Salisbury or Lord Edward to introduce the subject, and they also seemed to be waiting. Emerson, who has not my gift of patience, was about to burst into speech when the door opened and a man entered. He was of medium height and build, with shining black hair slicked back from his forehead, and a face like a wedge. His sharp nose and pointed chin appeared to have squeezed his lips between them. His stretched skin and the fine lines that covered it, especially around the eyes, were unmistakable signs of long years spent in the tropics-not in Egypt, or I would have known him-possibly in India. He took the chair Lady Salisbury had vacated and fixed a cold stare on me. His attempt to disconcert me was of course a failure. I stared back at him. "If this gentleman-I use the term loosely, since he was obviously listening at the door-if he is to join in our discussion, perhaps he will be good enough to mention his name." The thin lips opened a crack. "Smith." "Dear me, how unoriginal," I remarked. "Will you take a glass of port, Mrs. Emerson?" Salisbury inquired. He sounded a trifle rattled. "No, thank you, nor a cigar. Feel free to smoke, if you like; far be it from me to mar the atmosphere of masculine congeniality." "You've already done that," said Emerson approvingly. "Let's get down to business, shall we? We have wasted enough time already, and I want to get home. The answer is no." He pushed his chair back. "Don't be so precipitate, Emerson," I said. "The answer is no, but there are several questions I would like to have answered. First-" "You are both being precipitate," Nefret said. "And patronizing. He can speak for himself." She had dressed in her finest. Her blue frock was a Worth original and she wore a parure of Persian turquoises set in gold and diamonds. Not that she needed such adornments to set off her youthful beauty and her aristocratic bearing. She had done it for him-to make him proud of her. Indignation had brought bright spots of temper to her cheeks and made her blue eyes flash; even the enigmatic Mr. Smith paid her the compliment of a quick, indrawn breath. I realized she was absolutely furious with everyone-including me and Emerson. All eyes turned toward Ramses. Long fingers wrapped round the stem of his glass, he had been staring fixedly at the ruby liquid that filled it. Now he looked up. "No." "But my dear chap, you haven't even heard the proposal," Lord Edward said smoothly. "Make it, then," Ramses said pleasantly. Brows raised, Lord Edward glanced at the man who sat at the other end of the table. Smith had not spoken except to give a name that was certainly not his own. Now he said, "I cannot and will not discuss important business while women are present. If they insist on remaining we will have to arrange a meeting for another time and place."* Ramses raised his eyebrows. They were very thick and very black, and they tilted up at the corners in a way that gave his face a decidedly skeptical expression. "There would be no point in such a meeting. I was prepared to listen to your proposition as a matter of courtesy, but I cannot conceive of anything that would induce me to take on another assignment." "I'm afraid we can't accept that without an attempt, at least, to make you change your mind," Salisbury said in his calm, well-bred voice. "Your duty to your country-" "Duty," Nefret repeated. Her voice was unsteady and the pretty color had faded from her cheeks. Her eyes moved to Lord Edward. "You would know about that, wouldn't you? You were a soldier, leading your men into battle, sword in hand, with flags flying and bugles sounding the charge. I've been told it's quite exciting while it lasts, and when it's over you can bask in the admiration of the ladies and discuss the brilliance of your strategy with your fellow officers over a glass of port." Lord Edward was no fool. He didn't try to stop her. "Not at all the same," said Nefret, "as walking a sword's edge, instead of carrying one, not for a few glorious hours but for month after dragging month. No bugles, no flags; dark alleys and dirty little back rooms, never knowing, when you enter one of them, whether you'll get a knife in the ribs from someone who has found out who you are. No praise, no admiration, only white feathers from stupid women and insults from men like your friends, Lord Edward. And you. He was staring at his clasped hands, and his cheeks were a trifle flushed. "I had to do that, Miss-Mrs. Emerson. It was for his own protection." "And now you want him to do it again. Hell and damnation, you all know what happened to him when he went after the traitor your pompous lot never even suspected. How dare you speak of duty to him?" "His Majesty's government is well aware of his contribution," Lord Salisbury said stiffly. Ramses had listened without comment, his eyes on Nefret's face. Now they moved to Salisbury. "And that of David Todros? He risked far more than I, and he did it for a country that insults him and denies him social and political equality. My wife . . ." His voice lingered on the word. "My wife gives me too much credit. I just happened to have the right qualifications for that particular job. I took it on because I hoped to save lives, including the lives of the Egyptians who thought they were fighting for the independence of their country. I was, and am, in complete sympathy with their aims. I don't like violence and I'm sick to death of role-playing and deception, and of putting my friends and family at risk." "Not to mention yourself," said Emerson, who had controlled himself longer than I had expected. "Your part in that business and your real identity are known to a number of unpleasant individuals, including the chief of the Turkish secret service. If they so much as suspect you are back in the game, they'll be down on you like a pack of pariah dogs. Anyhow, I can't spare you. I need you on the dig." "Is Egyptology more important than fighting this war?" Mr. Smith demanded. Emerson's sapphire-blue eyes widened in surprise. "Of course." It was deliberate aggravation, at which Emerson excels; but when Mr. Smith's lips curled in a sneer-an expression for which they were well-suited-Emerson abandoned irony for blunt and passionate speech. "This war has been a monumental blunder from the start! Britain is not solely responsible, but by God, gentlemen, she must share the blame, and she will pay a heavy price: the best of her young men, future scholars and scientists and statesmen, and ordinary, decent men who might have led ordinary, decent lives. And how will it end, when you tire of your game of soldiers? A few boundaries redrawn, a few transitory political advantages, in exchange for an entire continent laid waste and a million graves! What I do may be of minor importance in the total accumulation of knowledge, but at least I don't have blood on my hands." He drew a long breath and, having expressed his feelings to his satisfaction, went on in a calmer voice. "Well, that's settled. Good night, gentlemen. Thank you for a most entertaining evening." We emerged from the civilized luxury of the house into bedlam. I had been vaguely aware of sounds from outside the thick walls and heavily curtained windows, but had been too preoccupied to pay much attention. They were clearly audible now-loud popping sounds, like a series of corks being removed from champagne bottles. The sky overhead was patterned with moving strips of light. "Dear me," I said, drawing my evening wrap closer around my throat. "It appears to be an air raid. That must have been what Lord Salisbury was trying to tell us. Perhaps we ought to have listened to him instead of rushing away." "Do you want to take cover?" Emerson inquired. "There is a tube station down the street." "What would be the point of that? Bombs fall at random. I want to go home." In the lull between the guns I heard another sound-a distant humming. "Look," Nefret whispered. "Up there." They looked very pretty and harmless, floating like great silvery