brings you to my doorstep?”
When Gareth glanced at the door, Roger added, “They’ve all returned to the kitchens. There’s no one about to hear.”
Gareth nodded, and between mouthfuls of unusually spiced but delicious sustenance, he told Roger the whole tale, from Hastings’s directive to their need for the robes they had arrived on his doorstep in.
Roger was one of the few men in the world in whom he had sufficient confidence to entrust with the unvarnished truth. He’d known Roger since they were both pupils at Winchester Grammar School; neither had ever let the other down. While Gareth had gone into the army, Roger had opted for the diplomatic service, but they’d kept in touch, which was why Gareth had stopped at Suez on his way out to India.
As Gareth had expected, Roger grasped the implications of just who the Black Cobra was immediately.
Frowning, Roger pushed away his empty plate. “You can lie low here, of course—my staff are sound—but you’d be wise to keep your appearances in the streets to a minimum, and as far as possible avoid the area around the consulate.”He met Gareth’s eyes, then glanced at Emily. “I’ve seen a few turbans with unusual black silk bindings recently.”
“Cult members.” Emily’s eyes widened.
Gareth nodded. “I feared they’d be here, ahead of us, keeping watch.”
“That’s what they’re doing, all right. The only place I’ve seen them is in the streets around the consulate.”
“We’ve no reason to go into that area, but”—Gareth trapped Roger’s eyes—“you’ll need to be careful, too. Someone at the consulate might remember our connection from when I was here six years ago.”
Roger pulled a face. “Possible, but unlikely, but I will take care to ensure I’m not followed, not back here, and not to where I suspect I’ll have to go to arrange your transport onward.”
“Speaking of which.” Gareth picked up the last of the flat bread and dipped it into the sauce on his plate. “I don’t think we should go via Cairo.”
“I wasn’t about to suggest it. I imagine if we have some of these cultists here, then Cairo will be swarming with them. Far better if you leave that wasps’ nest alone, and head straight to Alexandria.”
“Is it possible to do that?” When he’d come the other way, he’d traveled from Alexandria up the Nile to Cairo, then part by river, part overland, to Suez.
Roger nodded. “It’s straightforward enough, and”—he glanced at Emily—“given your entourage, it has the added benefit of being the last option anyone would expect you to take.”
Gareth wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“Why not?” Emily asked.
Roger opened his mouth, then paused, as if, faced with Emily’s wide eyes, he, too, was having second thoughts about the preferred option. But when Emily merely waited, expectant and determined, he threw Gareth an apologetic look, and explained, “I think you’ll be safest if you travelwith one of the Berber caravans across the desert direct to Alexandria.”
Gareth frowned. “Aren’t they—the Berbers—unreliable?” Warlike. Devious. Not to be trusted.
Roger heard what he left unsaid, and smiled reassuringly. “Some are, but I know a few of the sheiks, and…for want of a better description, they’re honorable. You’ll be safe with one of their tribes, but I’ll need to learn if any of them—those I’d trust—are here at the moment, and when they’ll be leaving for Alexandria.”
“How frequently do they make the trip?” Gareth asked.
“They’re on the move most of the time. The only halts between here and Alexandria are desert oases. But the tribes spend a week or two in camps outside town every time they reach here.” Roger glanced at Emily; it was to her he spoke. “If you think you can manage the privations, it would almost certainly be the safest way.”
Gareth expected her to question what the “privations” were likely to entail, but instead, her
When Gareth glanced at the door, Roger added, “They’ve all returned to the kitchens. There’s no one about to hear.”
Gareth nodded, and between mouthfuls of unusually spiced but delicious sustenance, he told Roger the whole tale, from Hastings’s directive to their need for the robes they had arrived on his doorstep in.
Roger was one of the few men in the world in whom he had sufficient confidence to entrust with the unvarnished truth. He’d known Roger since they were both pupils at Winchester Grammar School; neither had ever let the other down. While Gareth had gone into the army, Roger had opted for the diplomatic service, but they’d kept in touch, which was why Gareth had stopped at Suez on his way out to India.
As Gareth had expected, Roger grasped the implications of just who the Black Cobra was immediately.
Frowning, Roger pushed away his empty plate. “You can lie low here, of course—my staff are sound—but you’d be wise to keep your appearances in the streets to a minimum, and as far as possible avoid the area around the consulate.”He met Gareth’s eyes, then glanced at Emily. “I’ve seen a few turbans with unusual black silk bindings recently.”
“Cult members.” Emily’s eyes widened.
Gareth nodded. “I feared they’d be here, ahead of us, keeping watch.”
“That’s what they’re doing, all right. The only place I’ve seen them is in the streets around the consulate.”
“We’ve no reason to go into that area, but”—Gareth trapped Roger’s eyes—“you’ll need to be careful, too. Someone at the consulate might remember our connection from when I was here six years ago.”
Roger pulled a face. “Possible, but unlikely, but I will take care to ensure I’m not followed, not back here, and not to where I suspect I’ll have to go to arrange your transport onward.”
“Speaking of which.” Gareth picked up the last of the flat bread and dipped it into the sauce on his plate. “I don’t think we should go via Cairo.”
“I wasn’t about to suggest it. I imagine if we have some of these cultists here, then Cairo will be swarming with them. Far better if you leave that wasps’ nest alone, and head straight to Alexandria.”
“Is it possible to do that?” When he’d come the other way, he’d traveled from Alexandria up the Nile to Cairo, then part by river, part overland, to Suez.
Roger nodded. “It’s straightforward enough, and”—he glanced at Emily—“given your entourage, it has the added benefit of being the last option anyone would expect you to take.”
Gareth wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.
“Why not?” Emily asked.
Roger opened his mouth, then paused, as if, faced with Emily’s wide eyes, he, too, was having second thoughts about the preferred option. But when Emily merely waited, expectant and determined, he threw Gareth an apologetic look, and explained, “I think you’ll be safest if you travelwith one of the Berber caravans across the desert direct to Alexandria.”
Gareth frowned. “Aren’t they—the Berbers—unreliable?” Warlike. Devious. Not to be trusted.
Roger heard what he left unsaid, and smiled reassuringly. “Some are, but I know a few of the sheiks, and…for want of a better description, they’re honorable. You’ll be safe with one of their tribes, but I’ll need to learn if any of them—those I’d trust—are here at the moment, and when they’ll be leaving for Alexandria.”
“How frequently do they make the trip?” Gareth asked.
“They’re on the move most of the time. The only halts between here and Alexandria are desert oases. But the tribes spend a week or two in camps outside town every time they reach here.” Roger glanced at Emily; it was to her he spoke. “If you think you can manage the privations, it would almost certainly be the safest way.”
Gareth expected her to question what the “privations” were likely to entail, but instead, her
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