Scoundrel's Honor (Russian Connection 3)

“Yes.”

Dimitri narrowed his gaze, sensing that Rajih had not come to announce he was at liberty to leave.

“And?”

Rajih mo

ved to the tray on a side table, pouring a drink from the decanter of brandy.

“Unfortunately, I was not the only petitioner to approach the pasha concerning your presence in Cairo.”

“Petitioner?” Dimitri stiffened in shock, wondering if the word had a different meaning in Egyptian politics. “What precisely does that mean?”

Rajih emptied his glass in one swallow. “When I was brought before the pasha to proclaim your innocence another arrived to swear to your guilt.”

So, it was precisely what he feared.

But how could anyone possibly know he was currently being held captive by the pasha? And why would they come as a petitioner to proclaim his guilt?

“Who?”

“Baron Koman.”

“The Russian ambassador?” He frowned, a fury exploding through him. “Damn his black soul.”

Rajih smiled, not bothering to hide his amusement at Dimitri’s frustration.

“I assume the two of you are acquainted?”

“Unfortunately.” Dimitri paced across the floor, brooding on the unexpected complication. “The bastard must have discovered my intention to speak with Alexander Pavlovich to have him removed from his position.”

Rajih made a choked sound of surprise. “You have such influence with Czar Alexander?”

“It is not a matter of influence. The man is an incompetent fool.”

“Not entirely incompetent,” Rajih countered. “He made quite a compelling argument that you are an infamous Russian criminal who had recently decided to take command of the slave trade.”

Dimitri came to a sharp halt, unable to dismiss the sensation that there was far more to his current troubles than an indolent, half-witted Russian nobleman.

“If that were true then why would I have killed Valik and allowed the girls to be released into your care?”

“It was suggested that it was a battle for power.” Rajih shrugged. “You would, after all, need to destroy the current business before establishing your own.”

Dimitri paused, his suspicions becoming certainty. “Koman made this suggestion?”

Rajih set aside his glass, sensing the sudden danger that prickled in the air.

“Why are you so surprised?” he asked. “You admitted the man has reason to wish you harm.”

Dimitri prowled forward, his expression hard. “Yes, but he is a lazy, stupid man who is barely capable of summoning the ambition to leave his divan.”

An age-old bitterness flared through Rajih’s dark eyes. “He resembles every other foreign diplomat in Cairo.”

“The crux of the matter is that Koman might pout and complain and even threaten retribution, but he would never summon the initiative or the temerity to approach the pasha,” he growled, fiercely regretting his lack of weapons. “And he most certainly does not possess the intelligence to devise such a clever means of implicating me as a slave trader.”

The dark eyes narrowed. “I assure you that it most certainly was the baron I just witnessed testifying to your guilt.”

“I do not question his presence, only his motive,” Dimitri replied, his voice cold. “There has to be more than revenge that compelled him to the citadel.”