Read Online He Shall Thunder in the Sky by Elizabeth Peters - Free Book Online Page A

— or intimidated.”
         “I see the difference now, of course,” one of them said.
         A chorus of embarrassed murmurs seconded the statement. “He would intimidate me if he walked into this room,” the bespectacled student admitted. “They say he has friends in every street in Cairo, that he talks with afreets and the ghosts of the dead . . . Pure superstition, of course,” he added hastily.
         “Of course,” Wardani said. He straightened and remained standing, looking down at the others.
         The handsome boy cleared his throat. “Superstition, no doubt; but he is an enemy, and dangerous. The same is true of his family. Emerson Effendi and the Sitt Hakim were with Russell the other night. Perhaps we should take steps to render them harmless.”
         “Steps?” Wardani’s voice was very soft. With a sudden movement he swept the game from the table. The aged wood of the board split when it struck the floor, and pebbles rattled and rolled. Wardani planted both hands on the table. “You presume on your position, I believe. You are my chosen aides, for the present, but you do not give the orders. You take them — from me.”
         “I did not mean —”
         “You have the brains of a louse. Leave them strictly alone, do you understand? All of them! There is one true thing in the lies they tell about the Father of Curses. When his anger is aroused he is more dangerous than a wounded lion. He is not our friend, but he is no pawn of Thomas Russell’s either. Touch his wife or his daughter and he will hunt you down without mercy. And there is another thing.” Wardani lowered his voice to a menacing whisper. “They are friends of my friend. I could not look him in the face again if I had allowed any one of them to be harmed.”
         The silence was complete. Not a chair creaked, not a breath was drawn. Wardani studied the downcast faces of his allies, and his upper lip drew back in a smile.
         “So that is settled. Now to business, eh?”
         Only two of them took part in the conversation — Wardani and the gray-bearded man. Finally the latter said, in answer to a question from Wardani, “Two hundred, to start. With a hundred rounds of ammunition for each. More later, if you can find the men to use them.”
         “Hmmm.” Wardani scratched his chin. “How many others have you approached with this enticing offer?”
         “None.”
         “You lie.”
         The other man rose and reached for his knife. “You dare call me a liar?”
         “Sit down,” Wardani said contemptuously. “You made the same offer to Nuri al-Sa’id and to that scented sodomite el-Gharbi. Sa’id will sell the weapons to the highest bidder, and el-Gharbi will laugh himself sick and ship the guns to the Senussi. Do you think his women and his pretty boys will shoot at the British troops, who are their best customers? No!” He brought his fist down on the table, and fixed a furious glare on the Bedouin. “Be quiet and listen to me. I am the best and only hope of your masters, and I am willing to discuss the matter with them. With them, not with middlemen and underlings! You will inform your German friends that they have forty-eight hours to arrange a meeting. And don’t tell me that is not time enough; do you suppose I am unaware of the fact that they have agents here in the city? If you do as I ask, I won’t tell them about the others. Make your shady little arrangements and collect your dirty little baksheesh from them. Well?”
         Graybeard was quivering with rage and frustration. He called Wardani a vile name and strode toward the door.
         “The back way, you son of an Englishman,” Wardani said.
         The narrow panel at the back of the room looked like a door for an animal, not a man; the Bedouin had to bend his knees and bow his head to get through, which did not improve his temper. “I will kill you