The Serpent on the Crown, page 30
‘We will not keep you long,’ I promised, and launched into the reason for our visit.
‘Papyrus?’ Ayyid’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You want me to arrest a man who stole scraps of papyrus?’
‘They are valuable antiquities,’ Emerson began. ‘Er – that is – oh, what the devil. We may as well tell him the truth, eh, Peabody?’
It was a clever move on Emerson’s part, I must say. Ayyid was clearly flattered at being taken into our confidence, and he was in complete agreement with our reasons for not wishing the truth to be more widely known.
‘The temptation would be too great, even for some of my own men,’ he admitted.
‘For most men,’ said Emerson, who was really in top form that evening. ‘So, you will give the necessary orders?’
‘Yes. He is to be held for questioning – at your request, Professor.’
Emerson grinned. ‘That’s right. Why should you take the responsibility?’
I had remembered another responsibility – the one we owed Cyrus, who was almost as deeply involved in the business as we. Rather than keeping Nefret waiting for news (or irritating the cook), we went straight back to the house and sent Jamad off to the Castle with a message inviting the Vandergelts to an afterdinner conference. We were just finishing the meal when they all turned up.
‘What has happened?’ Katherine demanded. ‘Your message only said the matter was urgent. Has someone been hurt?’
I reassured her on that point and suggested we retire to the parlour for coffee. ‘I thought it best not to go into detail in a letter,’ I explained. ‘But the situation is serious enough. Mr Lidman came here this morning, and after he left, without seeing us, we discovered that the statue was gone.’
‘And you’re just getting round to telling us now?’ Bertie cried. ‘Good Lord, this is terrible. What can we do?’
In my usual well-organized fashion I described the steps we had taken.
‘Well, I guess you’ve been busy,’ Cyrus admitted. ‘It’s terrible news, all right, but see here, folks, the son of – the fellow can’t get away with this. So long as he doesn’t leave town – and it sounds as if you’ve got that covered – we’ll catch up with him sooner or later. You put Selim and Daoud on the job and with their contacts they’ll track him down. You just let us know what you want us to do.’
Sethos did not return to the house until after midnight. Ayyid himself had been on hand at the train station. Lidman had not.
‘Where the devil can he have got to?’ Emerson demanded, between bites of egg and bacon. Daoud sniffed appreciatively at the latter comestible but of course did not eat any of it. He and Selim had come by to report and to enjoy Fatima’s cooking, which included a variety of other dishes besides the forbidden bacon.
‘It is a mystery,’ said Daoud.
‘You are sure he has not been seen on the West Bank?’ I inquired of Selim.
‘Not yet, Sitt Hakim. But before long he will need food and water and shelter. The villages here are small, not like Luxor. He cannot approach any of them without being noticed.’
‘Perhaps the Father of Curses should use his magical powers to find the man,’ Daoud suggested.
Emerson, who was still smarting over the failure of his exorcism, looked suspiciously at Daoud, and then concluded, correctly, that his large friend had not meant to be sarcastic.
‘The devil with magical powers,’ said Emerson, jumping up. ‘I’m going to look for him.’
‘Please, Emerson, do not go riding off in all directions,’ I implored. ‘Wait until I –’
‘Make one of your little lists? Peabody, my dear, I have the highest respect for your lists, but –’
‘Selim has raised an important consideration, Emerson. How many places on the West Bank are there where a man like Lidman could remain concealed for more than a few hours?’
‘Hmph.’ Emerson sat down again. ‘He could not take shelter with one of the villagers. They would turn him in, to us if not to the police.’
‘He wouldn’t take the chance,’ I said. ‘Not when he has the – ouch!’
‘I beg your pardon, Peabody,’ said Emerson, giving me a terrible look. ‘My foot slipped.’
‘The statue, you mean,’ said Selim. Fatima refilled his cup. He thanked her, and I said, rubbing my shin, ‘Fatima, did you –’
‘No, Sitt,’ Selim said. ‘Fatima said nothing. I deduced it, myself. A valuable object and a missing man whom you want to find – it is, as Ramses would say, too much of a coincidence.’
He was so proud of himself I hadn’t the heart to deny the truth. ‘We were naive to suppose that the connection would not be made,’ I admitted. ‘Although not everyone is as clever a detective as you, Selim. To return to the previous subject: Can we assume Lidman would not openly approach any of the villagers? Yes. He would be just as noticeable if he took a room at one of the West Bank hotels. So that leaves only a hiding place in the cliffs of the high plateau. There are dozens of empty tomb shafts and caves there.’
‘A somewhat sweeping generalization, Peabody,’ said Emerson, rubbing his chin. ‘But I think you are on the right track.’
Up he got again. ‘It is an extensive area,’ I pointed out. ‘Why not leave the search to Selim and our other fellows?’
‘I can’t sit still and do nothing,’ Emerson said forcibly.
‘Wait,’ said Selim the detective, raising a finger just as Sherlock Holmes might have done. ‘I have thought of something. It would help if we had a photograph of the man.’
‘That is a very good thought, Selim,’ Nefret said. ‘I can’t recall seeing a likeness of him in any of the films we have printed so far, but a number of the plates we took in the West Valley haven’t yet been developed.’
It was agreed that she and Selim should get at the job immediately, while the rest of us started the search. It was, in my opinion, a comparatively futile enterprise, but my dear Emerson was too perturbed to sit still. Obviously I could not let him go dashing off without me to protect him. I made sure I had all my accoutrements, including my parasol and my little pistol.
We were about to leave when Cyrus, Jumana and Bertie rode up. ‘Where are you off to?’ Cyrus asked. ‘Not planning to work today, are you?’
‘No,’ said Emerson.
‘Me neither,’ Cyrus admitted. ‘We were talking last night, after we left you folks, and Jumana came up with a real bright idea. Where could this fella go, she asked, that he wouldn’t be spotted right away? Assuming he stayed on this side of the river, that is.’
‘We asked ourselves the same question,’ I said. ‘I presume you reached the same conclusion – that he is likely to have found a hiding place in the cliffs? We were about to begin searching there.’
‘It’s a large stretch of territory,’ Cyrus said. ‘Suppose we take one section and you another. What about Selim and Daoud? And – er –’
‘Anthony,’ I said. I couldn’t blame Cyrus for forgetting the name; Sethos had so many of them. ‘He’s gone back to the railway station. We sent Daoud to Gurneh; his web of informants are on the lookout and will report to him if they discover anything. Selim is helping Nefret develop some photographs, in the hope that they may contain an image of Mr Lidman.’
‘It would sure help to have a picture of him,’ Cyrus agreed. ‘So how shall we go about this? We need a plan.’
I had, of course, already given some thought to this. It was agreed that Emerson and I would begin at Deir el Bahri and work our way south towards Deir el Medina, while the other three covered the area of the Asasif and the long stretch of cliffs of Drah Abu’l Naga that ended at the road to the Valley of the Kings. Ours was the longest and most difficult path, but we were the more experienced.
I had observed Jumana’s disappointment when I anticipated her deductions, so as we rode side by side towards Deir el Bahri I took the opportunity for a cheering chat. ‘I am counting on you, Jumana, to guide the others. You know the area better than they.’
‘Yes, Sitt Hakim!’ Her face lit up. ‘You can count on me! I will miss nothing!’
I had a word with Bertie, too. ‘Don’t allow her to bully you, Bertie. Disagree with her. Sneer, if you like.’
‘Oh, no, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. She’s so much more intelligent than I am.’
Ah, well, I thought, I have done my best. Some persons cannot be helped.
As usual the road to Deir el Bahri was encumbered with carriages and donkeys carrying tourists to that popular site. Emerson and I left our horses with Jamad, who had accompanied us and who was to ride with them to Deir el Medina, where we would eventually meet him. We were further delayed by the Metropolitan Museum people, who were working at the Eleventh Dynasty temple south of Hatshepsut’s monument, and who wanted us to stop and chat. Their men had informed them of Lidman’s flight.
‘We heard he stole some of the papyri from Deir el Medina,’ Mr Winlock remarked. ‘The men don’t believe that story, you know.’
Emerson fingered the cleft in his chin. I laughed merrily. ‘Naturally they wouldn’t. You, however, know that those scraps are valuable to the scholarly world.’
‘Sure,’ Winlock said. ‘We’ll keep an eye out for the fellow.’
‘Funny, his taking something like that,’ said George Barton. ‘I mean, the guy isn’t a philologist, is he?’
‘One never knows what strange quirks may affect the human brain,’ I explained. ‘Well, gentlemen, we must be off. I hope to see you all again soon.’
‘I wouldn’t want to miss another exorcism,’ Winlock said with a smile.
‘Hmph,’ said Emerson. ‘Come along, Peabody, we have wasted enough time.’
The distance between Deir el Bahri and the workmen’s village is only a mile as the crow flies. On foot, over rough terrain, it seemed more like twenty. We followed the line of the cliffs, scrambling over heaps of fallen stone and exploring the innumerable small wadis that pierced the rocky ramparts. As we went on, under a baking sun, the futility of our search became more apparent – to me, at any rate. We could not possibly penetrate into every crevice and hole; all we could hope for was a sign that someone had recently passed that way. There was ample evidence of human and animal presence, from scraps of cloth to gnawed bones, but nothing one could specifically connect with a fleeing German.
By the time we reached Deir el Medina I was hot, dusty and thirsty, and Emerson was out of sorts. The sight of Jamad, patiently waiting with the horses and the water bottles, was as welcome as a green oasis in the desert. Emerson was all for mounting and riding back immediately, but by feigning exhaustion (which was not entirely feigned) I made him agree to rest and refresh himself, while I did the same.
After a single sip of water he was on his feet again, prowling round the ruins of the ancient temples. ‘The anonymous digger has not been back,’ he reported.
‘And no sign of Mr Lidman,’ I added. ‘Do sit down, Emerson. ‘Do sit down, Emerson. I doubt he would have come this far.’
I had informed Nefret and Selim of the change in our strategy (or is it tactics?). We were all to meet at the Castle, so Emerson and I went directly there. I apologized to Katherine for our untidiness; she was gracious enough to reply that the search for Lidman took precedence, and showed me to one of the guest chambers, where I was able to freshen up before we enjoyed a late luncheon.
Cyrus’ group had had no more luck than we. Jumana was unusually silent; she was taking her failure too much to heart, which I pointed out to her.
‘You cannot find something that isn’t there, Jumana. I am beginning to believe that Mr Lidman managed to cross the river without being observed. It is much easier to hide among hordes of people than in a wilderness.’
‘At least we now have a photograph,’ Katherine said, trying to look on the bright side.
‘Not a very good one,’ Nefret murmured. ‘It shows him in profile, with his hat shading his face. But it was the best we could come up with.’
‘Surely that is another suspicious thing,’ Selim said. ‘That he would avoid having his picture taken.’
‘You mean he’s been planning this ever since he came to work for me?’ Cyrus demanded. ‘Maybe so, Selim, but we were photographing the tomb, not people. So what do we do now?’
I was unable to repress a sigh. Emerson focused on me, for the first time in an hour, and frowned. ‘Tired, are you, my dear? I am afraid I wore you out this morning.’
‘Not at all,’ I said briskly. ‘But I confess I am at a loss as to how to proceed. Perhaps we should wait to hear from Daoud and Seth – Anthony. Tomorrow may bring fresh inspiration.’
I declined Katherine’s invitation to return to dine, for to be truthful I was a trifle weary. After promising we would inform them immediately of any new information, we returned to the house and I managed time for a nice long soak in my tin bath before facing tea with the children. The little dears were even more boisterous than usual, sensing, as children do, the distraction of their elders. Even the advent of Sethos, looking as disgruntled as Emerson, did not keep Carla from demanding when Papa and Uncle David would come home.
‘No messages as yet,’ I reported, after sorting through the post basket. ‘I had rather hoped to hear something from them by now.’
‘I would settle for hearing anything from anybody,’ said my brother-in-law. ‘We seem to have drawn a blank everywhere. I went the rounds of the Luxor hotels again, between trains. Not a sign of him.’
‘Something is sure to turn up,’ I replied, repressing a yawn. ‘You can try again tomorrow, now that we have a photograph.’
‘What a wonderful thought. I know every knothole and every splinter in that station platform, and every desk clerk in Luxor.’
However, troubles never come singly, as the saying goes. Bertie arrived next morning before breakfast, on a horse he had ridden hard. Jumana was gone.
Chapter Nine
From Manuscript H
The desk clerk at the Mena House remembered the lady very well. ‘Magda von Ormond, yes. She is a very – er – forceful lady. We had no rooms available but she – er – prevailed upon me to make an exception.’
Ramses wondered how much it had cost Harriet in baksheesh, and how much money she had, and where she had got it. Not from her father, if her description of him had been accurate.
‘She and the gentleman have been here for several days,’ the clerk went on. ‘Her – er – secretary, she said he was.’
He rolled his eyes and smirked.
Either he didn’t read the newspapers or he had not connected the murdered Mrs Petherick with her nom de plume. ‘Are they in their rooms?’ Ramses asked.
‘They went out early this morning for a ride around the pyramids. It is a favourite ride, as you know, out into the desert to the point from which one can see all nine of the –’
‘Yes, I know. Who went with them?’
The answer was reassuring. Ahmed Ali was one of the most reliable and persistent dragomen at Giza. They wouldn’t have been able to elude him even if they had wanted to.
‘Shall we hire horses and go after them?’ David asked as they turned away from the desk.
Ramses thought for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Nefret said we must avoid doing anything that might agitate him. If he spots us heading directly for them he may interpret it as a threat. They’ll be back for luncheon. We will casually encounter them in the dining salon.’
‘Oh, we get to eat?’ David inquired with a grin. ‘Things are looking up.’
It wasn’t difficult to pass the time at Giza, where they had once excavated. They spent the morning wandering round the cemeteries of private tombs and examining the six minor pyramids. The three large pyramids were the chief attraction for tourists, and the interior passageways were usually too crowded for comfort.
‘Reisner’s crew isn’t working,’ David said, as they approached the site where the Boston Museum–Harvard University crew were excavating.
Ramses consulted his watch. ‘Stopped for lunch, I expect. We’d best go back to the hotel. Perhaps Father’s prestige can get us a table.’
Fame had its penalties as well as its privileges. They were intercepted by the desk clerk, who proudly announced that he had told Madame von Ormond and her – er – secretary a member of the distinguished Emerson family was looking for them.
Ramses and David stared at each other in consternation. ‘I suppose they have gone out again,’ the former said, trying to keep his voice down.
‘But surely they will return soon. They have not lunched, nor even changed their clothing.’ A well-manicured brown hand lifted. Ramses handed over the expected baksheesh. It wasn’t the clerk’s fault. He hadn’t been told to keep their arrival secret.
‘God damn it,’ said David, who seldom used bad language.
‘The fat is well and truly in the fire,’ Ramses agreed. ‘Let’s find Ahmed Ali. There’s no hope of a casual encounter now.’
For years the normal methods of travel around the pyramid plateau had been by camel, donkey, or the so-called desert carriage, a diabolical conveyance that jolted the occupants’ insides to a jelly. Camels were selected by many tourists – what would a trip to Egypt be without a photograph of the traveller on that picturesque beast? – but they weren’t the carefully bred riding animals owned by aficionados of the breed. There was an old saying: ‘Everyone should ride a camel . . . once.’
Ahmed Ali had only recently introduced horses. He and his brother ran the operation, which had proved to be highly successful. They found him sitting in the shade of the shed he had erected, fahddling with some of the other dragomen and enjoying his lunch of bread, cheese and onions. After the obligatory exchange of courtesies, which took some time, Ramses asked about his friends.
‘Strange people,’ Ahmed Ali said, shaking his head. As befitted a successful merchant, his turban was very large and very intricately wound. ‘Very strange. No sooner had they returned than they were back again, demanding fresh horses. They wanted to go alone, but I could not permit that, so I sent Ibrahim Mohammed with them.’
