The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters

they held off attacking until you were with us?”
    “I hope so,” I said honestly.
    “So do I, my girl. They couldn’t have known you would be there, but they were definitely expecting David and me, and they took extraordinary measures to ensure we would be caught or killed. It can’t be a coincidence that Yussuf Mahmud offered the papyrus to us. There are too many other dealers in Cairo who would have snapped it up at the price we paid. I’m afraid we must face the possibility that somehow, some way, someone has discovered our real identities.”
    “How could they?” David demanded.
    Poor boy, he had been so proud of his clever disguise! Ramses wasn’t keen on admitting failure either. He tightened his mouth up in that way he has. When he answered, the words sounded as if they were being squeezed through a crack.
    “No scheme is completely foolproof. Several possibilities occur to me . . . But why waste time in conjecture? It’s late, and Nefret should be in bed.”
    The reeds rustled eerily. I shivered. The night wind was cold.
    David leaned forward and took my hand. He is such a dear! That sweet smile of his softened his face (and a handsome face it is, too). “Quite right. Come, little sister, you’ve had a busy night.”
    I let him help me out of the boat and up the bank. We went single file, with David leading, finding the easiest and least-littered path. The mud squelched under my boots.
    “Coincidences do happen,” David said. “We may be starting at shadows.”
    “It’s always safest to expect the worst,” said a sour voice behind me. “What a damned nuisance. We spent three years building up those personae.”
    I slipped on something that squashed and gave off a horrible smell. A hand grabbed my shirttail and steadied me.
    “Thank you,” I said. “Ugh! What was that? No, don’t tell me. Ramses is right, you can’t be Ali and Achmet again. If they do know who you really are, the papyrus could have been a means of luring you into that awful neighborhood. A would-be killer or kidnapper couldn’t easily get at you when you’re on the dahabeeyah with us and the crew, or in the respectable parts of Cairo, with lots of other people around.”
    “There’s one positive aspect to this,” Ramses admitted. (He much prefers to look on the dark side.) “We got the papyrus. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
    “All the more reason to stay away from the Old City,” I said. “Give me your word, Ramses, that you and David won’t go back there at night.”
    “What? Oh, yes, certainly.”
    So that was the end of that . None of us had to point out that we would soon know the answer to our question. We had got away—with the papyrus—and if Whoever-They-Were knew who Ramses and David were, they might come after it. But don’t worry, darling, we know how to take care of ourselves—and each other.
    :
    “M y dear Emerson,” I said. “We must call on M. Maspero before we leave Cairo.”
    “Damned if I will,” snarled Emerson.
    We were breakfasting upon the upper deck, as is our pleasant custom—though not as pleasant as it had been before motorized barges and steamers invaded the area. How I yearned to retreat to the bucolic shores of Luxor, where the sunrise colors were undimmed by smoke and the fresh morning breeze was untainted by the stench of petrol and oil!
    Emerson had already expressed the same opinion and proposed that we sail that day. That is so like a man! They assume that they need only express a desire to have it immediately fulfilled. As I pointed out to him, a number of matters remained to be done before we could depart—such as giving Reis Hassan time to collect the crew and get the necessary supplies on board. Calling on M. Maspero was, in my opinion, almost as important. The goodwill of the Director of the Department of Antiquities is essential for anyone who wishes to excavate in Egypt. Emerson did not have it.
    For the past several seasons we had been working on a