IT WAS NOT DIFFICULT to tell when Sidney Gordon was annoyed with someone. She wasn’t the least bit subtle about it.
One—she returned to calling him Mr. Armstrong.
Two—she spoke to him only when necessary.
Three—she stalked the entire way to the Sphynx with her chin held high and resolve in her step. And she was far quicker than he had expected as well.
Four—she sat beside Corbin when they lunched, chatting entirely too much with him. Harry didn’t like it. The man was a threat in more ways than one.
No, when Sidney Gordon was annoyed with you—you knew it. Although it scarcely mattered. He wasn’t especially happy with her either.
Blackmail? It wasn’t blackmail. Once again she was playing fast and loose with the truth. She was wrong and he was right. It really didn’t come any more straightforward than that. He wasn’t at all sure he should show her his writing but it did seem yet another gauntlet had been thrown down. He didn’t care for this one.
In hindsight he wasn’t certain what their dispute was about or how it had started. Regardless, he was certain he was somehow to blame. Nor did he know if Sidney had said anything to the others about their disagreement although the ladies did seem to have some sort of sixth sense about it. Harry went to great efforts to be pleasant and charming but at any given moment, one or all three of them would be eyeing him closely with considerable speculation. And he did not like the look in their eyes.
He was out of the carriage the moment they reached Shepheard’s to assist the ladies. Sidney pointedly turned to Corbin for help. Which was fine with Harry.
Lady Blodgett took his arm and walked up the front steps beside him. “I do expect you to join us for tea today.”
“I shall certainly try.”
“That’s all one can ever ask, Harry,” she said and patted his arm.
Sidney and the ladies proceeded to their respective rooms to freshen up, agreeing to meet on the terrace for tea shortly. Harry fully intended to join them. Regardless of his admonition, he would not put it past any of them—including Sidney—to take off on a whim should something prove interesting. He did not intend to lose them again.
He took longer than he had expected but the moment he stepped off the lift into the lobby, the desk clerk gestured at him. Harry stepped to the counter and was handed a note from Nazzal requesting a meeting in the bar. Harry glanced out at the terrace to find his party already seated and obviously settled for the time being, then headed for the bar. Only a handful of tables were occupied and it seemed there were more servers than customers. Nazzal waited for him at a table at the far end of the room.
“So, what is this about?” Harry said the moment the waiter delivered his gin and tonic.
“You wound me deeply, Harry.” Nazzal shook his head in a mournful manner. “Can’t one old friend share a pleasant drink with another without being accused of ulterior motives?”
“Not you.” Harry chuckled. “Out with it, Nazzal, what do you want?”
“If I recall correctly, you do owe me a favor.”
Harry probably owed him any number of favors, but then he had done the Egyptian any number of favors in return. “It seems to me we were fairly even when I left Egypt.”
“Who keeps track of such things?” Nazzal waved off Harry’s words. “I help you. You help me. It’s how we have always done business in the past.”
“You have a unique view of the past.”
“Which makes it no less accurate.”
Harry took a sip of his drink. You could say whatever you wanted about the domination of the British Empire but it did guarantee acceptable gin was to be had wherever its shadow fell. “I am not the same man I was a year ago.”
“You are better dressed.” Nazzal’s assessing gaze flicked over Harry. “I had heard you had come into money.”
Harry shrugged. He was certainly not going to admit anything to this man.
“And your traveling companions are, shall we say, unexpected?”
Harry snorted. “Yes, you could say that.”
“I must say this is rather more respectable than I would have predicted for you.”
“Life is frequently unpredictable.”
“Indeed it is. You were the last person I expected to see in Cairo. It was my understanding when you left, you would not be coming back.”
“No one is more surprised than I to be here.”
“However, you are the answer to a bit of a dilemma I have encountered.” Nazzal chose his words with care. “You and I have known one another for a very long time. Most Englishmen, as well as most Europeans, who come to Egypt do so only to steal the ancient heritage that is Egypt.”
“There was a time when no one in Egypt minded,” Harry said mildly.
Nazzal’s expression darkened. “Such foolishness is no longer acceptable.”
Harry was well aware of the governmental stipulations that had been developed in the last half century designed to keep ancient Egypt’s most significant relics in Egypt where they rightfully belonged. Nearly everything of significance he had uncovered had gone to the country’s main museum and the rest to the British Museum. Thanks to his father’s influence, Harry agreed with that principle. Not all who sought Egypt’s treasures did. Smuggling was one of the country’s biggest industries.
Nazzal leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “There is an American—a Mr. Wallace, a collector of antiquities—staying here at Shepheard’s. He has in his possession a medallion, an artifact that was among a number of now-missing antiquities. Part of a shipment destined for inspection by the Egyptian Museum.”
“You can hardly take a step in Egypt without stumbling over an artifact. What’s so special about this one?”
“For one thing, it’s gold. Not pure, of course, but still impressive. For another, one side is carved with engravings that need further study but we believe might reveal the name of the queen consort of Amenemhat II.”
“A queen’s medallion from the Middle Kingdom?” Egypt’s Middle Kingdom, some four thousand years ago, was still shrouded by the mists of time although Harry’s father and other scholars considered it Egypt’s classical period.
“You can well understand its importance.” Determination underlaid Nazzal’s words. “It must be recovered and returned to where it belongs. The American denies it’s in his possession but my information is never wrong. It should be a simple matter for you to slip into his room, retrieve the item and slip out.”
Harry chose his words carefully although he suspected the answer. “Why not just turn this over to the proper authorities?”
“Alas, the proper authorities are not as efficient as one would wish.” Nazzal shook his head forlornly. “Mr. Wallace has friends and influence and money. He would no doubt know of any intention to seize the object before action could be taken and it would not be seen in Egypt again.”
It was a common enough story. Egypt was not a wealthy country and even the most stalwart of local officials were susceptible to the lure of bribery. “If this is so simple, why don’t you do it?”
“You are a guest of the hotel. Even if you’re caught in the wrong room you can always claim besotted ignorance. You thought it was your room.”
“So I am to be drunk?”
“Only if you’re caught.”
“I should think this is more suited to your skills than mine.”
“Possibly, but my wandering the halls might be remarked upon. The American has met me and would be immediately suspicious of my presence. Besides—” Nazzal smiled knowingly “—you were always excellent at this sort of thing.”
“This sort of thing?” Harry raised a brow. “You mean theft?”
“I mean recovering relics.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t recall doing this particular sort of thing.”
“Perhaps my memory is faulty but I clearly remember you doing this sort of thing. Spiriting objects out of encampments or warehouses or barges.” Nazzal shrugged. “I would think a hotel room would be no challenge at all.”
“Probably but—” he shook his head “—as much as I hate to disappoint you, I no longer engage in matters of a questionable nature.”
“Come now, Harry.” Nazzal scoffed. “I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“Regardless, as I said, I am not the same man I once was.”
“No?” Nazzal raised a skeptical brow. “I had a most interesting discussion with your charming traveling companions as to why you are here.”
“Did you?” Harry said slowly, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach.
“Delightful ladies, simply delightful.” Nazzal chuckled. “They remind me of my dear, departed grandmother. She too had a tendency to chat in what always appeared to be an aimless manner but was in fact quite deliberate.”
“Go on.”
“When we realized we shared a mutual acquaintance—you—they seemed rather determined, in a subtle sort of way to learn more about you.”
“Did they?”
“You needn’t be concerned. I did not reveal any of your secrets.”
“There is nothing to reveal.”
“No? I am mistaken, then.” Nazzal paused. “I did, however, take the liberty of making a few inquiries after our meeting.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “And?”
“Again I was mistaken. I had heard of Mrs. Gordon, or rather, I had heard of her book. It is not unknown here.”
“Do you have a point?”
“Perhaps one you have already reached.” Nazzal studied him curiously. “By my calculations, Mrs. Gordon’s alleged adventures in Egypt would have taken place some dozen years ago. Odd that I, or you for that matter, had never heard of her presence here.” He shook his head. “A lovely young widow carrying on the work of her husband is not something that would have gone unnoticed.”
“Even you are not aware of every foreigner in Egypt,” Harry said in a mild tone.
Nazzal laughed. “I was right. You do know the truth about her.” He paused. “Are you going to expose her?”
Harry blew a long breath. “My plans are uncertain at the moment.”
“You like her.” Nazzal grinned. “A woman, no, four women getting the best of Harry Armstrong? I never thought I’d live to see that happen.”
“Congratulations on a long life.” Harry raised his glass to the Egyptian. “But they have not gotten the best of me.”
“Not yet.” He chuckled. “You know her secret but apparently she does not know yours. And it is indeed a secret, is it not?” He leaned across the table, his voice low. “Or does she know that it was you who challenged her to prove her veracity, my lord.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t the least bit surprised. While he’d tried to be circumspect as possible, Nazzal could have learned about his title from Leo, who could never be completely trusted, or any one of several officials who had seen his passport since his arrival. “I would prefer that you keep that to yourself.”
“I would never dream of telling her anything you don’t wish her to know. Unless of course...” He spread his hands out palm up and shrugged. “I had no other choice.”
First Leo, now Nazzal. “Is blackmail the currency of Egypt these days?”
“Come now, Harry.” Nazzal smiled. “It always has been.”
Harry tossed back his drink and got to his feet. “I’ll consider your proposal.”
“Tonight would be the perfect opportunity for this venture of ours. Time is of the essence. Wallace is expected to leave Egypt tomorrow.”
What choice did he have really? “Very well. Tonight it is.”
“Excellent.” Nazzal stood. “I’ll give you further details then.”
“Dare I ask what you get out of this?”
“Aside from the knowledge that a priceless piece of my country’s ancient heritage stays where it belongs?” Nazzal shrugged. “Nothing of significance. A finder’s fee. No more. A pittance really.”
“Good to see you have not changed.”
“Few things truly do in life.” Nazzal paused for a moment. “We cannot deny our past any more than we can deny the color of our skin, Harry. The past is always with us.”
“The wisdom of the ancients?” Harry said wryly. How he’d thought for so much as a moment that he could return to Egypt without his own past catching up to him was just as ill-advised as anything else he’d done lately.
“They too are part of the past and always with us. It is our duty to honor their teachings and that which they left for us.” Nazzal glanced around then leaned close and lowered his voice. “You should know there are people who are aware you are here. Just a warning, my friend.”
“And most appreciated.” He raised a shoulder in a careless shrug. “But I have nothing to be concerned about.” He cast the other man a confident smile and took his leave.
Still, his conscience wasn’t entirely clear. While he had made no particular enemies he had also departed Egypt abruptly. There were no doubt any number of things he had left undone, loose ends left untied.
It might be best if he did not join the ladies for tea after all. Nazzal was probably right—this should be simple enough. Even so, if he was going to steal an already stolen relic from a wealthy American, his time might be better spent determining exactly how to do that.
And how not to get caught.