Rajih’s hands settled on her shoulders. “Emma.”
“No, it is true.” Her gaze absently lingered on the stunning sight of Cairo spread below. “I am a mere commoner from an unremarkable village in Russia. And even there I am a source of mockery. I have no influence.”
She was not certain what she expected, but it was not his breathy chuckle as he lowered his head to speak directly into her ear.
“You could not be more mistaken, habiba. I am quite certain that within moments of being in your company, Alexander Pavlovich would be willing to demand the release of every prisoner in Egypt.” He deliberately allowed his lips to brush her cheek. “But that will not be necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tipova mentioned that you are related to Herrick Gerhardt.”
Caught off guard by the unexpected words, Emma stepped from his lingering touch. Turning, she regarded him with a wary frown.
“He is a distant relative,” she admitted, “but we had never met until I came to St. Petersburg to seek his assistance in finding Anya.”
“Distant relative or not, he is a well-respected advisor who has the ear of the czar.”
“Herrick has been very kind, but I am not certain he would be willing to speak with Czar Alexander on my behalf.”
Rajih frowned, sensing her hesitation. “What is it Emma? Do you find it difficult to ask others for help?”
She was briefly distracted by his perceptiveness, even if it was misplaced on this occasion.
“To be honest, I used to find it impossible.” She wrinkled her nose, all too easily recalling her stiff-necked refusal to seek out those distant relatives who might have been of assistance. “I considered it essential that I be able to survive on my own. After all, what could possibly be more important than my independence?”
“Anyone who has endured your loss would seek to gain a sense of control over their lives.” He glanced up at the birds of prey circling overhead, his jaw clenched with suppressed emotions. “I understand better than most.”
“Of course.” Sympathy tugged at her heart. “You have lost both your parents.”
His gaze shifted to the distant outline of the pyramids that stood with ageless splendor among the sand.
“And my country,” he murmured. “Now I would do whatever necessary to protect it.”
A bittersweet smile arched her lips. Until her sister had left her stranded in that brothel, she had believed that there was no sacrifice too great to keep her family safe.
“You do understand,” she murmured. “A pity Anya was not so forgiving.”
His expression hardened at the mention of Anya. “You cannot continue to punish yourself for the failures of your sister. You have done all that was possible to offer her a stable home. Her future is now in her own hands.”
“Yes.”
“So, will you overcome your reluctance and ask for Herrick Gerhardt’s assistance?”
She paused, unconsciously shifting her feet. “Of course. I will do whatever possible to help.”
“And yet you hesitate.”
A wry smile curved her lips as she met his deliberately bland gaze.
“Because I am not utterly stupid,” she said, her eyes narrowing in warning. “I know very well that Dimitri demanded that I be rushed away from the dangers of Cairo and returned to Russia.”
His lips parted, as if he were debating the ridiculous notion of lying to her. At last he reached to take her hand in a comforting grip.
“Emma, there is nothing you can accomplish by remaining here. A female, especially an unwed female, has no power or freedom in Cairo.” A suddenly wicked promise smoldered in the dark eyes. “Unless you prefer to remain hidden in my harem?”
Conceding that she had been neatly outmaneuvered, Emma gave a rueful shake of her head.
Rajih spoke the truth.
What could she possibly achieve if she lingered in Egypt? It was not as if she had a small army at her disposal to overrun the citadel. Or even the skills to slip past the guards and secretly free Dimitri.
And while she was far from convinced her plea to Herrick Gerhardt would be more than a waste of breath, she was willing to make the attempt.
“I am beginning to suspect you are attempting to be rid of me,” she teased.
With a mysterious smile, Rajih lifted her fingers to his lips.
“Quite the contrary.
“What do you mean?”
“I intend to escort you to St. Petersburg.”
WAITING UNTIL THE DINNER trays had been removed and the servants had finished preparing the beds for the night, Dimitri gathered several pillows from the outer chamber and arranged them beneath the silk sheets.
“This is a very bad plan,” Josef muttered as he stuffed his own bed with pillows.
Dimitri smiled wryly. His servant had been grumbling and moaning for hours. Not that he blamed his companion. They were very much the pasha’s prisoners, even if they were not locked in the dungeons. But, Dimitri was familiar enough with his long-time friend to know it was not being held in the citadel that was causing his foul mood, but fear that Dimitri’s suspicions might not be as stupid as he wanted to believe.
Josef would stand before the firing squad without batting an eye, but the thought of someone he cared for in danger nearly unmanned him.
“It is not a plan at all,” he pointed out. “Merely a hasty attempt to avoid being murdered in my bed.”
Josef snorted. “I still don’t understand why you believe we are going to be attacked.”
“It is the only explanation that makes sense.”
“Sense?” Josef straightened from the bed, throwing his hands in the air. “What sense is there in trying to keep you locked behind this fortress if someone wants you dead? It is much easier to shoot you in the back if you are walking down the street.”
“Yes, but the benefit is knowing my precise location.”
“So would kidnapping you.”
Dimitri smiled, recalling numerous traps meant to destroy him that he had efficiently avoided. There were many on the streets of St. Petersburg who would swear he possessed magical powers.
“I am not so easily captured, as many men have discovered over the years.”
Josef grunted, unable to argue with his logic. Not that he was satisfied. The servant would be snarling and snapping until they were far away from Egypt.
“But how could any enemy know you would kill Valik and that the pasha’s guards would bring you to the citadel? Do you think they are fortune-tellers?”
Dimitri stepped back, regarding the narrow bed. At the moment it appeared to be a sheet pulled over a line of pillows. But in the dark and at a distance, the lumps beneath the sheet should give the impression of a body.
Or at least that was his hope.
All he needed was for his enemy to be distracted for a few moments to launch his ambush.
Dimitri returned his attention to Josef, accepting he had done all that was possible with no weapons, no notion of who or how many might attack, and a wounded shoulder that still ached like the very devil.
“No fortune-tellers, merely a man swift to take advantage of the situation,” he said. “After all, no one attempted to have me arrested before now—”
“That we know of,” Josef interrupted.
“That we know of,” Dimitri conceded. “But now that I am trapped at the citadel, it obviously occurred to someone that they could use my confinement to their advantage.”
“To kill you?”
Dimitri restlessly paced to blow out the candles that burned in the candelabras. The light from the fireplace should be ample enough to see any intruder without revealing his bed was empty.
“Who is to say?” he muttered. “It could be for the simple enjoyment of watching me suffer, or an attempt to flee before I have the opportunity to interfere in their plans, or any number of plots…including the desire to put me in my grave.” His jaw clenched. “I intend to be prepared.”
/> Josef’s lips parted to continue his arguments, then recognizing Dimitri’s stubborn expression, he heaved a resigned sigh.
“What do you want of me?”
“It appears that the doors are the only entrance to the room, but I prefer not to take a risk of being caught off guard.” He waved a hand toward the elaborate gilded-iron grills he had inspected earlier. So far as he could determine they appeared to be firmly attached to the stone of the citadel, but he had not survived so long without a good deal of caution. “I want you to remain near the windows.”
Josef grimaced, but he readily moved to crouch near the edge of the windows.
“This is going to be a tedious night.”
Dimitri extinguished the rest of the candles and moved to stand beside the door.
“It is preferable to listening to you snore.”
They fell silent as they waited.
And waited. And waited.
As the minutes, and then hours, passed, however, he did not abandon his post or ease his vigilance. He was accustomed to thieves, cutthroats and pirates who did their business at night and on their own schedules.
Besides, if there were an assassin, he would want to wait until he was confident that Dimitri was asleep before entering the room.
Shifting his weight from foot to foot to keep alert, Dimitri froze at the sound of the door being slowly pressed open.
A fierce satisfaction jolted through him. Not at the sight of the slender man who slipped into the room and crept toward the bed with a pistol in his hand. In truth, it was unnerving to witness his potential murder from a distance. But at the knowledge his suspicions had been justified.
His instincts remained honed to razor sharpness, even if his lust for his career had begun to wane.
Waiting until the intruder had nearly reached the bed, Dimitri slid silently forward, approaching the man from behind. With one swift motion, he had plucked the pistol from the intruder’s hand and pressed it to his temple. His other hand he wrapped around the man’s neck, jerking him against his chest to cease his struggles.
There was the faint sound of shuffling from across the room before Josef was lighting the candles to show that the intruder was an Egyptian attired in a European-styled uniform that revealed he was one of the pasha’s guards.
“Do you speak English? Russian?” Dimitri’s fingers tightened on the man’s throat, grimacing at the sour stench of fear that clung to him. Whoever he was, he most certainly was not a hardened criminal. “Answer me or I will crush your throat.”
“I can discover the truth.” Josef prowled forward, bending downward to uncover the knife strapped to the man’s ankle. Then, with an evil grin that emphasized his scar, he pressed the tip of the knife to man’s groin. “Answer the question.”
“Bastards,” the man spat in a thickly accented English.
“Who are you?” Dimitri asked.
“Fawzi.”
“Well, Fawzi, perhaps you would not mind explaining what you are doing in this room?”
Fawzi shuddered, his breath a heavy rasp and his heart thumping so hard that Dimitri could actually feel its pounding beat.
“Please.”
Sensing the fool was about to become hysterical, Dimitri glanced down at his servant.
“Josef, I believe our companion is prepared to be reasonable.”
“Yes, yes.” Waiting until Josef had removed the knife from his most tender parts, Fawzi swallowed heavily. “It is nothing more than an unfortunate mistake.”
“I will agree with unfortunate, but it was no mistake,” Dimitri mocked.
“No, no. A big mistake. I thought I heard a noise and I entered to make certain you were not ill.”
“How very considerate.”
“The pasha was insistent you be comfortable during your stay at the citadel.”
With a sudden movement, Dimitri shoved the man until he was turned to face him, pointing the pistol at his heart. He needed to see a man’s face to know when he lied.
“Then perhaps we should join the pasha,” he suggested. “He will be pleased to know how dedicated you have been to my welfare.”
Fawzi licked his lips, his eyes darting toward the distant door.
“He will be in his bed.”
“I do not mind awakening him.”
Beneath his bronzed skin the man paled. “No.”
A hard smile curved his lips. He was at least reassured that the nefarious plot to see him dead had not come from the pasha.
“Josef, would you discreetly discover what has happened to our guards?”
With a silence few men could match, Josef glided across the room and after a covert peek into the hallway, he disappeared through the door. A handful of minutes passed before he returned, his expression unreadable.
“They are both on the ground.”
“Dead?”
“Drugged.”
Dimitri returned his attention to Fawzi, his finger tightening on the trigger.
“It would be a simple matter to drug the dinner sent from the kitchens.” His gaze bore into the man’s wide eyes. Fawzi was terrified at being caught, but Dimitri sensed a desperate cunning beneath his fear. He was like a rat, all the more dangerous for being cornered. “Especially if the tray was delivered by a fellow guard.”
“Yes, I think we really must wake the pasha.”
“Please.” Fawzi held out his hands in a pleading motion. “What do you want of me?”
Dimitri studied the narrow face with its sunken black eyes and scraggly black beard.
“Why did you drug the guards and sneak into this room?” He gave a deliberate wave of the gun. “The truth.”
The man hesitated, clearly weighing the danger of being caught in a lie. At last he grimaced.
“I came here to kill you.”
Dimitri’s lips twisted. That was certainly blunt.
“Is there a particular reason you wished me dead or do you simply hate all infidels?”
“A man approached me on my way back from a visit to my mother and offered me a fortune if I would put you in your grave.”
“What man?”
“I don’t know.” Fawzi pressed his hands together in a gesture of entreaty. “No…wait. He called to me from a carriage as I was about to enter the citadel. He kept the curtain across the window so I never saw his face.”
Frustration settled in the pit of his stomach.
Of course Fawzi never saw the man’s face. Why would discovering the truth become a simple matter at this late date?
“Was he an Egyptian?”
“No, a foreigner. Like you.”
“Russian?”
Fawzi shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What did he say?” Dimitri took a step closer, his expression hard with warning. “I want every word.”
“I can’t remember every word.”
“Try very, very hard.”
Sweat dripped from the man’s face as his gaze lowered to the pistol a short distance from his heart.
“He asked if I was a guard at the citadel and if I had the means to enter the room of the pasha’s two foreign prisoners. When I admitted I could move freely about the citadel he promised me a purse filled with silver.”
Dimitri lifted his brows in astonishment. “And you believed him?”
“He gave me a few coins to prove his sincerity,” the man muttered, his expression sullen. “He said I could have the rest when I brought him proof that you were dead.”
“What proof?”
The man nervously cleared his throat. “I was to cut out your eye and bring it to him.”
“God almighty,” Josef breathed.
“He claimed he would recognize it, so I was not to try and fool him,” the man hurriedly explained.
Dimitri was forced to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. His life had been one of upheaval and violent survival. He had assumed that nothing could shock him.
Now, however, he was stunned by this ruthless confession. Who could hate hi
m with such passion?
“Did he give a reason he desired my death?” he rasped.
“No.”
Dimitri regarded the bumbling assassin with distaste. “You were willing to kill a man in his sleep and cut out his eye for no other reason than a purse of silver?”
An unctuous smile curved his lips as he pressed a hand to his chest.
“My mother is ill. I need the money for her medicine.”
“Of course. Your poor, sick mother,” Dimitri drawled, his eyes narrowing as he realized the pathetic louse might actually be of worth. “Then we had best go and collect your reward.”
Without warning Josef moved to grab his arm.
“Have you lost all sense?” he demanded.
“We shall soon enough discover.” Dimitri’s gaze never shifted from Fawzi. “Where were you to meet your mysterious patron?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DIMITRI WAS CAREFUL TO keep the pistol prominently displayed as Fawzi led them through the sleeping citadel. It seemed wise to remind the man just what would happen should he be foolish enough to attempt an escape or to alert the guards that prowled through the dark corridors.
Depending upon Fawzi’s familiarity with the maze of rooms, they were soon out of the main building and moving through the servants’ quarters. Dimitri demanded that they pause long enough for Josef and him to change into the rough linen tunics and loose breeches of stable hands before they were leaving the main building and heading toward the massive tower that guarded the nearest gate.
There was a tense moment as they were halted by the sentry, his expression skeptical as Fawzi babbled in Arabic. Unable to follow the conversation, Dimitri could only trust that the knife Josef had discreetly pressed to the man’s back would discourage any attempt to attract unwanted attention.
At last they were through the thick walls that surrounded the citadel and moving down the hill to the city below.
Dimitri sucked in a deep breath, astonished that they had truly managed to escape the fortress.
Of course, if he were thinking clearly he would knock Fawzi senseless and flee Cairo with all possible speed. Instead, he poked the slender man in the back with his pistol and urged him toward the clump of palm trees.
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