Thieves Fall Out by Gore Vidal

It is the necklace of Queen Tiy, whose scarab you have in your pocket.”
    “How did you come by it?”
    “That is a long story, Mr. Wells. Let me say, though, there is blood already on the necklace, and a curse.” It was strange, thought Pete, to hear a modern man make such a statement in such a matter-of-fact tone, yet the words struck home. This was not, after all, the world he knew. He was far from home in an ancient, haunted land, among killers. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, though they were in the relatively cool shadow of columns.
    “What am I supposed to do when I get it?”
    “I will tell you at that time.”
    “You don’t have it with you?”
    Said shook his head. “I do not carry such things about with me.”
    “How much is it worth?”
    “The ruby in it is worth, I suppose, thirty or forty thousand pounds, about seventy thousand dollars. As an antiquity, though, its value is many times greater.”
    Pete whistled. A thought occurred to him. “What good would it do somebody outside Egypt? I mean, they could never show it or resell it, because it’s stolen property—stolen from the country, anyway.”
    Said smiled tolerantly. “You don’t understand collectors. They will pay our price just to have the necklace. Also, in time, they can show the necklace and even resell it, saying that it was got out of Egypt before the law concerning antiquities was passed.”
    “You have a buyer?”
    “Buyers,” said Said. “There is some bidding going on right now in the United States. We will get a high price, never fear.”
    “What is your connection with Hastings and Hélène?”
    “They are my employees.”
    This was a jolt. For some reason it had never occurred to Pete that the two Europeans were not the main figures in the plot. “I didn’t know,” said Pete.
    “Why should you know?” Said was bland. “They are both discreet persons. We have been in business, off and on, for some years. Since 1940, as a matter of fact.”
    “During the war?”
    “Business does not stop because people decide to kill one another on a large scale. If anything, business becomes even more interesting and profitable then.”
    Pete said nothing to that bit of wisdom. His whole original conception of this venture was obviously all wrong; he would have to begin again. “You live in Luxor?”
    Said nodded. “I prefer it. I was born here, though I’ve traveled a good bit. Went to school in England, where I knew Hastings. First-rate athlete, by the way. Hard to believe now. I have since conducted a number of enterprises here-abouts, which have not all proved to be disappointing.” He chuckled softly and with his sinewy brown hand caressed the carvings on the wall.
    “When do I get the necklace?”
    Said stared at him, or seemed to, his face made impassive by the dark glasses. “You are in a hurry?”
    “A little bit. I want to get back to Cairo.”
    “To Hélène?”
    “Yes, now you mention it.” The lie came easily.
    “I will give it to you tomorrow, perhaps later. There is no hurry at the moment.”
    “You mean you’re sizing me up?”
    “How well you put it! Yes, that is what I am doing.”
    “Afraid maybe I’ll take off with it?”
    “Not exactly.” Said lit a Turkish cigarette, after offering one to Pete, who refused it. Delicate blue smoke curled upward between them for a brief moment. Said exhaled comfortably. “Put it this way: You might possibly want to get out of Egypt with our necklace, then again you might not. I have no way of knowing. I am hardly a psychologist. My one fault is that I am by nature trusting and I am often tricked.” He removed a fleck of tobacco from his lower lip. Pete did not even pretend to be taken in by the other’s pose of innocence.
    “I am known to be an easy mark among the natives here,” continued Said, obviously enjoying the image of himself as a trusting fool. “But I do my best to get by, to defend my interests. That is why I am, as you call it, sizing