“Take care, Tipova. I have several daggers hidden beneath these robes,” the scar-faced man warned.
They both tensed as the distant sound of voices echoed through the gardens, reminding Dimitri they were standing in the gardens of a man who had only yesterday threatened to have him beheaded.
As if reading his mind, Josef silently turned toward the wall, running his hands over the smooth stones until there was a faint click and a portion slid open.
“Through here,” the man urged.
Ducking through the opening, Dimitri glanced about the dark street that ran beside the palace, abruptly realizing that Josef had managed to discover a secret entrance through the ancient walls.
“You never cease to amaze me, Josef,” he muttered as his companion joined him.
With swift, efficient motions, Josef rid himself of his robes to reveal a rough tunic and loose breeches worn by Turkish servants.
“I prefer a more tangible reward than mere amazement.”
“What of my heartfelt appreciation?” Dimitri laughed as his servant grunted his disapproval. “Do not fear, you will be properly rewarded.” His amusement faded as he glanced up and down the narrow street, ensuring they could not be overheard. “What have you discovered?”
“There was a man who resembled Valik’s description who was seen in a café near the citadel.”
It was precisely what Dimitri had hoped to discover when he requested Josef make contacts among the natives of Cairo. After all, a man involved in an illegal trade might do his best to avoid soldiers or those in authority, but he would never notice the thousands of commoners who filled the markets and cafés and public baths. Such people always made the best spies.
“Have you visited the café?”
“I went there earlier to enjoy a small pastry.”
“Did your pastry include any information?”
“Not so much as I would have desired.” Josef’s grimace was barely visible in the wash of moonlight. “There were several patrons who recalled a large man, possibly Russian, who briefly visited the café, but he left long before I arrived and no one knew where he was staying.”
Dimitri swore. “So we are still in ignorance.”
“Not entirely. I made a search of the neighbor hood.”
“And?”
“I discovered three brothels within walking distance of the café.”
Dimitri shrugged, not willing to leap to conclusions that might blind him to other possibilities. He had already allowed Anya to slip through his fingers once. It would not happen again.
“The auctions needn’t be offered at a brothel. It is quite possible that the girls are being held in a private residence.”
“It is possible, but with the pasha’s current disapproval of the slave trade there are fewer citizens willing to risk the citadel’s dungeons by being so intimately associated with the traffickers,” Josef reasoned. “If they are hidden in a brothel then all involved could plead to have no knowledge of the auction. Besides, we must begin somewhere.”
“Yes,” Dimitri readily agreed, sensing there was something his companion was keeping from him. “Is that why you intruded on my private evening with Emma?”
Josef discreetly shifted back, a certain indication that he had been indulging his love for daring gambles.
“I made a brief sojourn to each of the brothels to discover the various pleasures offered.”
Anger jolted through Dimitri at the grudging confession. Damn, the obstinate fool. After Josef had risked his neck to bring an end to a foul murderer who had kidnapped the Duchess of Huntley, Dimitri had decided his old friend had reached an age when his lust for adventure needed to be curtailed. He had brought him to England and then Egypt for his cunning, not to charge recklessly into danger.
“You entered the brothels alone?”
Josef jerked a head toward the nearby harem. “As you just mentioned, you were otherwise occupied.”
“You should have waited until I could accompany you,” he growled. “I did not bring you to Cairo for you to have your throat slit and your body tossed into the Nile.”
“If I desired a mother hen, Tipova, I would find one considerably more attractive than you.”