The Hippopotamus Pool (42 page)

It was as I had thought: Ramses had decided to take it upon himself to track down Riccetti. David had not even tried to dissuade him; he had a wholly disproportionate respect for Ramses's abilities. "And is he not my brother? Where he goes, I go."

They had "borrowed" a boat and rowed across the river. "She," said David, indicating Bastet, "she came too."

"Has she been with you all this time?" Walter asked, eyeing without favor the cat, who was calmly browsing among the left-over food.

"Let him tell it in the proper order, Walter," said Evelyn. "Go on, David."

I had to admit Ramses had gone about the business more intelligently than I would have expected. Knowing that an ordinary barefoot fellah would never be allowed in one of the large hotels, he had got himself up quite smartly in what might have been mistaken for a kind of livery— sandals, clean white robe and red fez. Purporting to have been given a parcel to be delivered to Signor Riccetti, he had gone the rounds of the hotels, without, I hardly need add, success. He had also taken the precaution of telling David to follow him at a discreet distance—with the cat.

"All in Luxor know her," David explained. "She cannot be seen with him. He ordered her to stay with me."

I looked at Bastet. She raised her head from my plate and gave me a cool, appraising stare. The creature really was rather uncanny, and Ramses's relationship with her was one I did not care to explore.

"Then what?" Walter demanded.

Then Ramses had called on the antika dealers.

"Oh, good Gad," I exclaimed. "That is how Riccetti found out! Half of them are in his pay and the other half are terrified of him."

"Hush," Evelyn said. "Let him go on."

The rest of the tale was soon told. Ramses had emerged from one of the shops with a particularly smug smile (David did not use that expression, but I knew Ramses well enough to picture it) and, after signaling David, had plunged straight into the back alleys. He had been given an address, or rather, since street names and numbers are unknown in Luxor, directions. Hanging back as he had been instructed, David was ten feet away when aman stepped out of a dark doorway and caught hold of Ramses, clapping a hand over his mouth.

He got a bit more than he had bargained for. Ramses was as slippery as an eel and unrestrained by gentlemanly scruples. He had managed to free his mouth long enough to call out.

"He said 'Run,' " David said. "I ran."

"And the cat?"

"He said to her, 'Stay with David.' I ran and she ran with me, to find you, to bring help. That is what he said to do." The boy was trembling again. "Another man ran after me. At the riverbank I looked for the boat. It was not there. Then a man said, 'Do you want to go across the river? Get into my boat, you and the cat; I am going to my house.' The man who followed was close behind. I was afraid. So I got into the boat and called the cat Bastet to come. But when we reached the other side ..."

He had woken up in a windowless, dirt-floored room, with no memory of how he had got there. His head hurt and his mouth was dry. Fumbling around in the dark, he had found a water bottle, and after assuaging his thirst he had explored the room by touch. The single door was of heavy wood; it must have been bolted on the outside, for there was no keyhole and it did not yield when he threw himself against it. There was no furniture in the room, not even a pile of rags on which to lie; but they had left him his knife. And so, after pounding on the door and shouting till he was hoarse, he began to dig at the mud-brick of one of the walls. He had not got far before dizziness overcame him and he fell asleep.

"There must have been some drug in the water," I said. "But then how did you get out?"

"When I woke up the door was open," David said. "And the cat Bastet was there, licking my face. So I came here. Now, please, will we go to find Ramses?"

       CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Most People Obey the Orders of an Individual Who   Is Pointing a Gun at Them

We could not have held him back,even if we had not been burning to pursue the same end. Every square inch of the boy's meager frame was quivering with frustration. I could only imagine how much it had cost him to run away instead of rushing to Ramses's aid. A rescue attempt would have been worse than futile, but most lads would not have exhibited that degree of self-discipline and common sense.

Our decision was unanimous and virtually instantaneous. Walter did not even protest when Evelyn declared she meant to go with us. Our forces were already dangerously divided; we must stay together from now on.

I persuaded David to take food and water while we made the necessary preparations. He had not eaten since the night before and had been afraid to risk another drink from the tainted bottle, but he was on his feet, ready and waiting, when I returned to the saloon and sat down to pen a brief note to Emerson, and another to Cyrus Vandergelt.

There were a number of questions I wanted to ask the boy, but they could wait. They would have to wait. It was obvious to all of us that we dared not delay. Once Riccetti learned of David's escape he might view it as a violation of his orders and if, as the boy claimed, he could lead us tothe precise spot where Ramses had last been seen, the villain might decide to move his captive to a more secure location—before or after detaching the "reminder" he had promised us.

Walter had gone to tell Daoud we were crossing to Luxor. When he joined us to announce that all was ready, his resolute countenance assured me I could count on him not to fail me; but oh, how I wished it were Emerson at my side!

To conceal our departure would have been impossible. Speed was our best hope now. I could have wished for a few more weapons; I had my pistol and my knife, but owing to Emerson's prejudice against firearms, that was the extent of our arsenal. A paltry armament with which to face a man like Riccetti and his hired thugs! I reminded myself that fortune favors the brave, not the party with the most rifles. The adage would have cheered me more if I had not been able to think of so many examples that contradicted it.

It was not until Daoud ran to meet us and took his cousin in a warm embrace that I realized I should have sent word to Abdullah. His anxiety must of necessity be prolonged, however; there was not time to summon him and our men, nor even a messenger to send. We needed Daoud.

Once we had taken our places in the boat, I asked David to explain some of the details urgency had forced him to omit. My first question concerned the location of the place where he had been imprisoned. He informed me that it had not been in Gurneh, but farther south, near the small hamlet of Medinet Habu.

"Close enough," I muttered. "Evelyn, could we have been wrong about Abd el Hamel? His hatred of the man who maimed him might have been overcome by fear, or the desire for profit. It must have been one of Riccetti's people who caught David—but then who freed him?"

David was unable to satisfy my curiosity on that point. He had not lingered to examine the outside of the door; as soon as he made certain no one was lying in wait for him, he had run, straight to the dahabeeyah. However, he had no doubt as to the identity of his rescuer.

"She," he said, nodding at Bastet, lying along the bench beside him.

"Come now," Walter exclaimed. "The door must have been bolted or barred. Even granting the creature sufficient intelligence to comprehend the mechanism, it would not have had the strength."

"It would have been more sensible of her to come to us and guide us to your prison," I said, giving the cat a critical look. She yawned.

"He tells her to stay with me," David explained.

Walter shook his head so emphatically that his eyeglasses slipped down. He pushed them back into place. "David's pounding on the door must have loosened the bar; that is the only possible explanation. You are assuperstitious as the boy, Amelia. It is only a cat, you know, not a supernatural being."

"She," I said, unconsciously emphasizing the pronoun as David had done, "has some qualities more like those of a dog than a cat. I am hoping she can pick up Ramses's trail."

"Ridiculous," Walter muttered.

I would not have had to convince Emerson, who knew, as I did, that Bastet could also be useful in a scrap. She had left poor Mahmud's back badly scratched—and she had only been mildly annoyed with him. I bit my lip to hold back an irritable response. Walter was doing his best; he could not help being what he had become, but I would have given a great deal to have him be the man he once was—the gallant youth who had risked his life for loyalty and love.

Evelyn was the first to break the ensuing silence. "We are halfway across. Shall we not assume our disguises now, and make our final plans?"

The disguises had been her idea. I doubted they would help us much, but she had been so keen on the plan I did not argue, nor did I ask where she had procured the black robe and face veil. I had my own, of course. I always have such an ensemble in my wardrobe. One never knows when an emergency may arise.

We put them on and Walter slipped a galabeeyah over his head. There was not much more we could do. Our plans, such as they were, had already been formulated. When we landed I gave Daoud his final instructions.

"Stay at a distance, Daoud, and in the shadows. Watch where we go. If we enter a house, wait for ten ... Wait till you have counted to five hundred. If we have not come out by then, or if you hear sounds of gunfire within, go and tell Mr. Vandergelt what has happened."

Daoud was a big, easygoing man who held me in considerable awe. He had never opposed an order of mine. He opposed this one, heatedly. I was forced to brandish my parasol at him before he agreed.

Anonymous in our black garments, we women trailed humbly behind Walter and David. Walter's hand was on the boy's shoulder—an ostensibly friendly gesture, but I knew what Walter was thinking: that David might be leading us into an ambush. Evelyn would have indignantly denied the possibility; I did not believe it myself, but belief is not certainty. It was just another of the risks we had been forced to take.

Luxor has only twelve thousand inhabitants, but some of them live crowded together in areas as dark and cramped as the slums of a city. They were not so dark that night. The Lesser Festival of Bairam, which follows the fasting of Ramadan, was being celebrated with visits of ceremony and the giving of gifts. We passed doors that were hospitably open, and groupsof people talking, but when David finally stopped, the voices had died away and the surrounding houses were dark.

"Here," he whispered. "It was here the man caught hold of him."

Instinctively we drew together, with a wall at our backs. It was up to the cat now, and when so much hung on her purported talents it was hard even for me to have much faith in them. I was about to speak to her when my eyes, searching my surroundings, fell on something I recognized.

"That is the house," I hissed, pointing.

"How do you know?" Walter demanded.

"It would take too long to explain." I studied the facade of the house.

Like the others that abutted it on either side, it was several stories high, its peeling stucco surface broken only by shuttered windows on either side of the doorway and a balcony over it.

Was this unpretentious dwelling Riccetti's Luxor headquarters? It was certainly the house from which the very large man had emerged and—I now realized—attempted to intercept me. As I continued to study it I observed several interesting features. For one thing, the shutters were solid, and so well secured to the frames that not a single ray of light escaped. The inhabitants must be unsociable individuals who did not encourage visitors, even during the days of the festival. The same was true of the houses on either side and those that faced them across the narrow way. The whole area was uncommonly dark and quiet; I wondered whether Riccetti owned or controlled every house on the street.

If he had stationed a guard outside we were done for, but I did not think he would bother. The solid walls and shuttered windows made the houses into virtual fortresses. I decided not to waste time looking for a back entrance. There probably was one, but we might not be able to distinguish it from others, and if it offered an easier means of entry, it would undoubtedly be guarded.

I removed the muffling black garments and kicked them away. "Lift me on your shoulders," I said to Walter, indicating the balcony.

It was the only possible way; he knew that too, but he felt obliged to assert his masculinity. "Not you. I will—"

"I cannot lift
you,
you idiot." I forced the words between clenched teeth. "If you argue with me, Walter, I will—I will—I may be forced to strike you."

"Do as she says," Evelyn said. She had her parasol in her hand now. It had been hidden under her robe.

It was rather a tricky business, since I was in a hurry, and even standing on Walter's shoulders I could not quite reach the balcony. Had Emerson been there ... I forced that seductive image from my mind and found acrack large enough for the toe of my boot. From there—to be honest, I don't know how I managed it, but I did, because I had to.

The shutters here were not solid. I could see no light between the strips of wood and I hoped that meant the room beyond was uninhabited. I could not avoid making some small noises when I ran my knife blade along the crack between the shutters and forced the inner bolt. The cursed hinges creaked, too.

I had had to leave my parasol behind, but I had my usual tools, and as I hesitated in the dark opening, I knew I must risk striking a match.

The room was a sleeping chamber, skimpily furnished with cots and a few tables and an assortment of pottery vessels. It resembled a dormitory in one of the cheaper boarding schools. Quarters for the thugs, I decided, and served them right, too. It was lucky we had come when we did; a few hours from now the room might be filled with sleeping men.

It behooved me to make haste, in case one of them decided on an early night. I paused only long enough to light my dark lantern. Then I tiptoed to the door and eased it open.

The room was on a corridor that ran around four sides of an open stairwell. From below I heard voices and saw a glow of light. Indecision, which rarely afflicts me, struck me now. Should I attempt to open the front door, or should I immediately pursue my search for Ramses?

In fact, the decision was not difficult. There were people below; reaching the door unobserved and undoing bolts, bars and/or locks would be difficult if not impossible.

I had another reason for preferring the second alternative. I need not explain that reason to any parent.

I was nerving myself to leave the illusory safety of the room when something pushed against my ankle and a sound like the buzzing of a giant insect struck my ears. I whirled round, my knife raised, and saw a dark form silhouetted against the window opening.

"It is I, Sitt, and the cat Bastet. Do not strike!"

I swallowed my heart—at least that was how it felt—and managed to speak. "David! How did you get here?"

"I climb." He came to my side, silent as a shadow, on bare feet. "Mr. Walter Emerson says, open the door. If you do not he climb too."

I felt a little easier, coward that I was, at having him—both of them— with me. It is very lonely in a dark house filled with foes.

The cat was still purring. (It is a well-known fact that familiar sounds are not easy to identify in unfamiliar surroundings.) I bent over to stroke her head.

"I don't think we can get to the door," I whispered. "The most important thing is to find Ramses, if he is here."

"He is here. The cat Bastet know. She climb on my shoulder. Now you hear, she purr."

"Too loudly. Bastet, stop purring at once."

She obeyed. Walter would have said it was coincidence.

"We must not be discovered, David. If Ramses is not in the house, we dare not let Riccetti know we were here. And for heaven's sake, speak Arabic! Your English is coming along nicely, but this is no time to practice a new language."

I sensed rather than saw him nod. "Sitt, you hold the knife wrong. Strike up, not down."

It was good practical advice under the circumstances, though not what I had expected. "I know," I said meekly. "I forgot."

"Do not forget. Come now."

Confound the boy, he was beginning to sound just like Ramses, trying to order me around and take charge. So was the cat (but that is the habit of cats). She preceded us along the corridor, her tail switching, and led the way up the stairs.

The doors on this level were closer together and the floor was splintered and worn. Every step produced a squeak or a groan that seemed to echo like a pistol shot. I used my dark lantern as sparingly as possible; every time I opened the shutter, I felt as if the light must be visible throughout the entire house.

The cat Bastet moved on, past door after closed door. She appeared very confident—but that, again, is a characteristic of cats. My faith in her began to waver. How could she possibly know where she was going? This upper floor, bare and comfortless as it was, was not the most logical place for a prisoner to be confined. I would have expected Riccetti's tastes to run to something more unpleasant—a dank, dismal den far underground, with water dripping from the walls, and rats, and snakes .. .

So dreadful and pervasive was this mental image that David had to catch me by the sleeve before I saw it—a thin ray of light lying across the worn floorboards like a golden thread. The door from which it issued was closed, but the hinged side had warped a trifle.

The cat Bastet sat down in front of the door and looked at me expectantly. I closed the shutter on the dark lantern and leaned close to David. "I think there will be a guard."

"Aywa. If it is locked, let me speak. If it opens, I will go first."

Not likely, my lad, I thought, reaching for my pistol. I hoped I would not have to fire it and alarm the entire house, but if Ramses was there I would do anything I had to do in order to get him out. The sight of the pistol might be enough. Most people obey the orders of an individual who is pointing a gun at them.