The Ape Who Guards the Balance (9 page)

The only light in the room came from a lamp on the table, dangerously close to the papyrus, which had been partially unrolled to display a painted vignette. I edged closer. The sheer size of it was enough to take one’s breath away; I could tell, from the thickness of the unrolled portions, that it must be very long. The miniature scene depicted the weighing of the heart.

Before I saw more than that, Ramses grabbed hold of me and turned me round to face him. He must have thought I was about to exclaim aloud or move closer to the light—which I never would have done! I scowled at him and he leered at me. You have no idea how horrible Ali the Rat looks close up, even when he
isn’t
leering.

The man said, “A new one, is he? You are a besotted fool to bring him here.”

“He is such a pretty thing I cannot bear to be parted from him,” Ramses muttered, leering even more hideously. “Go stand in the corner, my little gazelle, until we complete our business.”

They had reached an agreement on the price the night before, but knowing the way these people operate I fully expected Yussuf Mahmud would demand more. Instead Yussuf Mahmud shoved the ragged bundle at Ramses—keeping one hand firmly on it—and said brusquely, “You have the money?”

Ramses stared at him. Then he said—squeaked, rather—“Why such haste, my friend? I hope you are not expecting anyone else this evening. I would be . . . displeased to share your company with others.”

“Not so displeased as I,” the fellow said, with a certain air of bravado. “But none of us will linger if we are wise. There are those who can hear words that are not uttered and see through windowless walls.”

“Is it so? Who are these magicians?” Ramses leaned forward, smiling Ali’s distorted smile.

“I cannot—”

“No?” Ramses took a heavy sack from the folds of his robe and poured a rain of shining gold coins onto the table. We had agreed they would make a more impressive show than banknotes, and they certainly had the desired effect on Yussuf Mahmud. His eyes practically popped out of his head.

“Information is part of the bargain,” Ramses went on. “You have not told me where this came from, or through what channels it passed. How many people did you cheat or murder or rob to get it? How many of them will transfer their attentions to me once I have possession of it?”

He gestured unobtrusively to David, who took the papyrus and laid it carefully in the wooden case we had brought with us. The man paid no attention; his greedy eyes were fixed on that shining golden heap. Ramses glanced quickly from the shuttered window to the barred door. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t have to; the room was so small that the shadowy corner to which he had directed me was within the range of his vision. I didn’t see or hear anything out of the way, but he must have done, for he jumped up and reached for me as the flimsy wooden shutters gave way under the impact of a heavy body.

The body was that of a man, his face covered by a tightly wound scarf that left only his eyes exposed. He hit the floor and rolled upright, agile as an acrobat. I thought there was another one behind him, but before I could be sure Ramses tucked me under one arm and sprang toward the door. David was already there, the case that held the papyrus in one hand, his knife in the other. He flattened himself against the wall on one side of the door; Ramses pulled the bar back and jumped out of the way. The door flew open, and the man who had hurled himself against it stumbled into the room.

David kicked him in the ribs and he fell flat. I was tempted to kick Ramses, for handling me like a bundle of laundry instead of letting me join in the defense, but I decided I hadn’t better; he and David were operating quite efficiently and it would have been stupid (and possibly fatal) to break their rhythm. The whole business had taken only a few seconds.

That heap of gold was our second line of defense. Over Ramses’s shoulder I saw a writhing tangle of limbs as the newcomers and Yussuf Mahmud fought with teeth and knives and bodies to possess their prize. They fought on a carpet of gold; coins spilled from the table and rolled across the floor.

David had gone out the door. Another body fell into the room and David called out to us to come ahead. Ramses pulled the door shut behind us.

“I hope you didn’t hit him with the papyrus box,” he remarked in Arabic.

“What do you take me for?” David’s voice was breathless but amused.

“Was he the last?”

“Yes. Lock the door and come on.”

Ramses set me on my feet. The stairwell was dark as pitch, but I heard the click of a key turning. I doubted it would hold the men inside for long, for the door was a flimsy thing; but by the time they finished fighting over the gold, there might not be anyone left to follow.

We pelted down the creaking stairs—first David, then me, then Ramses. When we emerged onto the narrow street I realized that there was light where there had been none before. A door opposite stood open. The form silhouetted in the opening was definitely female; I could see every voluptuous curve through the thin fabric that draped her body. The light glimmered off twists of gold in her hair and on her arms.

David had come to an abrupt halt. Seeing the woman, he let out a sigh of relief. I will not repeat what she said, dear, for fear of shocking you; but I am happy to report that David refused the invitation in terms as blunt as those in which it had been couched. He started to turn away. The street was very narrow; a single step brought her close to him. She threw her arms around him—and I hit her behind her ear with my joined fists, the way Aunt Amelia taught me.

As that dear lady would say, the result was most satisfactory. The woman dropped the knife and fell to the ground. Another silhouetted shape appeared in the open doorway—a man this time. There were others behind him. In their haste they blocked one another trying to get through the narrow aperture, which was lucky for us, since both my valiant escorts appeared to be momentarily paralyzed. I gave Ramses a shove.

“Run!” I said.

It isn’t difficult to lose pursuers in that maze of filthy alleyways and dark streets, if one knows the area. I didn’t, but once Ramses had got his wits back he took the lead, and the sounds of pursuit died away. We were all tired and out of breath, and
very
dirty, by the time we reached the river, but Ramses wouldn’t let me take off my stained, smelly robe until we were in the boat and underway. In case I neglected to mention it, I was wearing my own shirt and trousers under my disguise. The boys weren’t, and they made me turn my back while they changed. Men are sometimes very silly.

When we reached the other side and the little boat had come to rest, I waited for someone to clap me on the shoulder and say “Well done!” or “Jolly good show!” or some such thing. Neither of them spoke. They sat motionless, like a pair of twin statues, gaping at me. The cut at the base of David’s throat had stopped bleeding. It looked like a thin dark cord.

“Don’t just sit there,” I said in exasperation. “Let’s go back to the dahabeeyah where we can talk in comfort. I want a drink of water and a cigarette and a change of clothing and a nice soft chair and—”

“You’ll have to settle for one out of four,” Ramses said, rummaging under the seat. He handed me a flask. “We must finish our discussion before we go back to the dahabeeyah. Mother is always hanging about, and this is one conversation I don’t want her to overhear.”

I drank deeply of the lukewarm water, wishing it were something stronger. Then I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and handed the bottle to David. “Yussuf Mahmud betrayed us,” I said. “It was an ambush. You expected it.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Ramses said rudely. “If I had anticipated an ambush I would not have allowed . . . That is, I would have acted differently.”

“I don’t see how you could have acted any more effectively,” I admitted. “You and David must have worked out in advance what to do if things went wrong.”

“We always do,” Ramses said. “Never mind the flattery, Nefret; the fact is, I miscalculated rather badly. We were lucky to get away unhurt.”

“Lucky!” I said indignantly.

Ramses started to speak, but for once David beat him to it. “It wasn’t luck that saved my life tonight, it was Nefret’s quick wits and courage. Thank you, my sister. I didn’t see the knife until it was at my throat.”

Ramses shifted position slightly. “I didn’t see it until it fell from her hand.”

It had taken them long enough to admit it. I couldn’t resist. “That,” I said, “is because neither of you knows—”

“Anything about women?” Ramses finished.

The moon was high and bright. I could see his face clearly. It was what I call his stone-pharaoh face, stiff and remote as the statue of Khafre in the Museum. I thought he was angry until he leaned forward and pulled me off the bench and hugged me so hard I could feel my ribs creaking. “One of these days,” he said in a choked voice, “you are going to make me forget I am supposed to be an English gentleman.”

Well, my dear, I
was
pleased! For years I’ve been trying to shatter that shell of his and get him to act like a human being. Occasionally I succeed—usually by stirring up his temper!—but the moment never lasts long. Making the most of that
particular
moment, I held on to him when he would have drawn away.

“You’re trembling,” I said suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me, curse you?”

“I am not laughing at you. I’m shaking with terror.” I thought I felt his lips brush my hair, but I must have been mistaken, because he returned me to the hard seat with a thump that rattled my teeth. Ramses has the most formidable eyebrows of anyone I know, including the Professor. At that moment they met in the middle of his forehead like lifting black wings. I had been right the first time. He was absolutely furious!

“Hell and damnation, Nefret! Will you never learn to stop and think before you act? You were quick and brave and clever and all that rot, but you were also bloody lucky. One of these days you are going to get yourself in serious trouble if you rush headlong into action without—”

“You’re a fine one to talk!”

“I never act without premeditation.”

“Oh, no, not you! You have no more feelings than a—”

“Make up your mind,” said Ramses, between his teeth. “I can’t be both impetuous and unfeeling.”

David reached out and took my hand (fist, rather; I admit it was clenched and raised). “Nefret, he’s scolding because he was frightened for you. Tell her, Ramses. Tell her you aren’t angry.”

“I am angry. I . . .” He stopped speaking, drew a long breath and slowly let it out. The eyebrows slipped back into their normal position. “Angry with myself. I failed you, my brother. I failed Nefret too. She wouldn’t have had to take such a hideous risk if I had been more alert.”

David took Ramses’s outstretched hand. His eyes shone bright with tears. David is as sentimental as Ramses is
not
. I am all in favor of sentiment—as
you
know—but the reaction had hit me and
I
was starting to shake too.

“None of that,” I said sternly. “As usual, you are taking too much on yourself, Ramses. An exaggerated sense of responsibility is a sign of excessive egotism.”

“Is that one of Mother’s famous aphorisms?” Ramses was himself again. He released David’s hand and smiled sardonically at me.

“No, I made it up myself. You were both at fault this time. You’d have seen the knife, as I did, if your masculine conceit hadn’t assumed that there was nothing to be feared from a woman. My suspicions were aroused the instant she appeared; it was too much of a coincidence that a lady of the evening should present herself at that precise moment, when we’d seen no sign of activity in the house earlier. Establishments of that sort aren’t so discreet as to—”

“You have made your point,” Ramses said, looking down his nose at me.

Something rustled through the reeds along the bank. None of us started; even I have learned to know the difference between the movements of a rat and those of a man. I do not much like rats, though, and I wanted to go home.

“Be damned to that,” I said, trying to look down my nose at him (that’s not easy when the other person is almost a foot taller). “Thanks to our
combined
quick wits and daring we got away unscathed, with the papyrus, but we haven’t settled the vital question of how to
remain
unscathed. What went wrong tonight?”

Ramses settled back on the seat and rubbed his neck. (The adhesive itches, even after it has been washed off.) “There was always a possibility that Yussuf Mahmud meant to cheat us—to keep the money as well as the papyrus. But he couldn’t hope to pull off a swindle like that without murdering both of us, and I doubted he would risk it. Ali the Rat and his taciturn friend have a certain . . . reputation in Cairo.”

“A fictitious reputation, I hope,” I said.

The two of them exchanged glances. “For the most part,” Ramses said. “Anyhow, I decided the risk was negligible. Yussuf Mahmud has a certain reputation too. He deals in stolen antiquities, and he would cheat his own mother, but he is no killer.”

“Then he must have swindled some other thief to get his hands on the papyrus,” I said. “That would mean that the men who broke in were after it—and him. Not us.”

“I would love to be able to believe that,” Ramses muttered. “The alternative is decidedly unpleasant. Let us suppose that Yussuf Mahmud and his employers, whoever they may be, have worked out an ingenious method of robbery. They offer the papyrus for sale, lure prospective buyers to the house, knock them over the head, steal the money, and walk away with the papyrus. They can repeat the process over and over, since the victims aren’t likely to admit participating in an illegal transaction. This time Yussuf Mahmud decided to go into business for himself. He was expecting the others, but not so soon. He hoped to conclude the deal and get away with the money before they arrived. He’d have locked us in—I noticed he’d left the key on the outside of the door, which ought to have made me more suspicious than it did—and left us to the tender mercies of the lads. They came early because
they
didn’t trust
him
. Instead of joining forces against us, the fools let greed get the better of them. Gold, I have been informed, has a demoralizing effect on those of weak character.”