A River in the Sky by Elizabeth Peters

purpose was accurate, they were stirring up antagonism toward infidels and foreigners. From what he had observed so far, it appeared to be a fairly ineffectual operation, but he would like to have found out more about the plan and what part, if any, the lady played in it.
    It was now so dark that venturing closer might get him shot, and there were too many people about. He started to get to his feet.
    There was no warning, not even the snap of a twig or an indrawn breath. He fell flat under the impact of a heavy body. A hand clamped over his mouth and a voice hissed in his ear.
    “For God’s sake don’t make a noise or you’ll get us both scragged!”
    The voice had spoken English. Unaccented, idiomatic English.
    Ramses forced his taut muscles to relax. After a few seconds the hand over his mouth lifted.
    “Who—”
    “Ssssh! Let’s get farther away. Someone may have heard you fall.”
    It struck Ramses as excellent advice. He followed the crawling figure as it made its way rapidly but silently through the grove. When they were some fifty yards away from the camp the other man stood up. Ramses couldn’t make out his features, only the general outline of someone wearing a loose dark garment and headcloth. The large leaves of the fig tree against which his back was pressed provided deep shade.
    “Well done,” said the unknown, in the same barely audible murmur. “We should be all right now. But keep your voice down.”
    “Who the devil are you?”
    After a moment of hesitation the other man said resignedly, “I’ll have to come clean, I suppose, although it’s against regulations. Name’s Macomber. We met at Oxford two years ago. Hogarth’s rooms at Magdalen.”
    Macomber’s name meant nothing to Ramses, but Hogarth’s did.Distinguished scholar, experienced archaeologist, rabid imperialist, Hogarth despised “men in the lump” and believed in the God-given superiority of the white “races”—particularly the British. He gathered round him young men whom he inspired to share his vision, who asked nothing more than to serve their country in the great game of empire, without recognition or reward. Ramses had been invited to join the select circle because of his long years of experience in the Middle East, but he had only attended one of the meetings: he had found Hogarth’s beliefs and air of certitude thoroughly offensive. He remembered Macomber now—a pale young man with a shock of yellow hair and eyes that glowed with adolescent fervor as he listened to his mentor hold forth. Officially Hogarth had no connection with any of the intelligence organizations, but Ramses wasn’t the only one who suspected he recommended worthy acolytes for recruitment.
    “Regulations,” he repeated. “Which lot are you working for?”
    “Never mind that, just listen. I spotted you when you came here with her the first time, been trying to speak with you ever since, but you were always with someone, and I wasn’t allowed to leave camp except once or twice to go to the mosque, and—” A rustle of leaves nearby brought him up sharp. He wasn’t as cool as he had tried to appear. Ramses was getting uneasy too. If they were found together they would both be in trouble.
    “Get to the point,” he said. “Why is MO2 interested in Mme von Eine?”
    “She’s high up with the German government. They are trying to move into the Middle East, preparing for war eventually—”
    “I know. Be specific. Why her, why here, why now?”
    “She’s after something. Some talisman, some document, some…I don’t know what, but she and that fellow Mansur consider it vital in their plot to unify Islam against us. I overheard them talk about other places to look—Jericho, Jerusalem—” He glanced over hisshoulder. “I’ve got to get back before I’m missed. I’m telling you this so you can pass the word on if something happens to me.”
    “Why do you think it might? Has something gone wrong?”
    Macomber swallowed noisily.