“Where are the three of you going?”
“You could have asked them.”
Whit dipped his chin, the moonlight casting silvery shadows across his face. He stood not even a foot away from me, looming tall and broad shouldered. He wasn’t even panting from the exertion of pummeling three people to the ground. “I’m askingmy wife.”
The only reason why I bothered to reply at all was because he had saved my life. At least, that was what I told myself in the constant argument I had in my mind to stay firm, to not give in to any admiration for the way he had rescued us. “Isadora was able to discover the location of the gate.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Is that your second question?”
He nodded.
“If I can do something without you,” I said simply, “I will.”
His face turned to stone, his expression inscrutable, and I gave up trying to read someone who had no compunction about robbing me.
“Fine. And what were you going to do when you arrived?”
“Farida’s camera is magic touched,” I said, then explained the rest of our plan quickly.
“The developed photographs will show what’s behind walls?” he asked. “That’s astounding. And useful.”
“I know,” I said dryly. “Hence the plan.”
Whit watched me narrowly. “Well, I also discovered the location of the gate,” he said in a testy voice. “And it’s in another part of the city. Were you thinking to get there by tomorrow?”
“Oh,” I said. “Were welost?”
“Damn it, Inez.”
I stiffened. “Isadora must have gotten confused. She can be quite stubborn once she gets an idea in her head.”
“Can she.” His implacable look returned. “Well, I’m on my way there. Would you like to come with me?”
I managed to hide my surprise, but only just. “Lead the way, Mr. Hayes.”
It was at that moment when one of the men lurched to his feet—the bald one—and lunged toward us. A shot rang out, and his body fell in a downward arc, blood splattering across my feet. He was utterly still, a dark puddle growing under his chest. One of his arms was reaching toward me, his index finger brushing against the toe of my left boot.
Whit dropped, peering into the man’s face. His eyes were open. Somehow, he still looked angry. “Dead.”
Isadora lowered her smoking gun. “One less for the crocodile.”
Whit led us to a dilapidated building he explained was rather close to the hotel. Not even half a mile away from Shepheard’s entrance. Isadora blushed and apologized profusely, again and again, for her error. I got the sense that she hated to be mistaken—about anything.
“It’s all right,” I said for the fifth time. “I would have gotten turned around, too.”
She walked alongside me, Farida accompanying Whit farther up ahead. Every now and again, he looked over his shoulder to make sure I was still trudging after him like a well-behaved dog. I ignored his glances, focusing instead on learning wherenotto go in Cairo.
Isadora winced and shook her head. Her honey-gold hair gleamed under the soft light of the moon. “It’s only that I wanted to be helpful,” she explained. “I thought I knew most of the streets of Cairo, and I didn’t want you to need Whit or spend more time with him than what’s absolutely necessary.”
“Sister,” I said. “Can I call you sister?”
She smiled gratefully. “Of course, but only if I can call you hermana in return.”
Warmth spread outward from my heart. “You shot a man and saved my life. I think you more than made up for it.”
“It shouldn’t have come to that,” she said. “I ought to have known we were lost.”
