Sethos snorted. “Please do what you can to minimalize intercourse with Gunter. He will not recognize you, but he may become so annoyed that he shoots you anyway. If he doesn’t, I might.”

“And risk my mother’s wrath?”

“She does have a temper, at times more rabid than your father’s. I will be careful to shoot you in a nonessential body part.”

“How comforting,” Ramses said drily, “but all of my body parts are essential to me. I cannot return to Amarna missing so much as my little finger. I am planning to learn to play the kanun, which requires all my digits to pluck the strings in a melodious fashion. Furthermore, my toes will be indispensable when I take up ballet.”

The carriage stopped at the curb in front of the embassy, and the guard allowed them to continue to the porch. Ramses steeled himself not to react when the butler opened the door and muttered, “Guten Abend.”

“Good evening to you,” Sethos said. “I am here to see Herr Gunter once again. Tell him it is of the utmost importance. My name, if you have forgotten, is Professor Ambrose Doyle. This is my secretary, Higginsnort.”

The butler gestured for them to enter. He led them to the front room and pointed at the decanters. “Machen Sie es sich bequem,” he said in the same dour voice as he left the room.

“If we are to make ourselves comfortable, we should have a drink,” Ramses said. “What do you prefer?”

“Whiskey and soda. Is that not your parents’ preference?”

“Hardly any of your business, is it?” Ramses poured a scant amount of whiskey into two glasses and topped them with soda. He delivered one to Sethos, and then sat down across from him. “How many guards did you see in the courtyard?”

“Three concealed in the bushes, and the one at the gate. I presume they are all armed.”

“You overlooked the one on the roof,” Ramses commented as he tasted his drink, “and there are likely to be more behind the house. What was your story when you came here several days ago? It must have been credible, since you stayed so long.”

“I told Gunter that I was an old acquaintance of the ambassador and enjoyed his hospitality when I was in Berlin on sabbatical. I also mentioned that I was a professor of ancient history at Cambridge and familiar with the Egyptian dynasties. Gunter insisted that I stay for dinner and peppered me with rather naive questions about current archaeological activity—including Amarna. He did not mention Nefertiti, nor did I.” He glanced at the door. “Kindly remember that you are a pathetic pretext for a secretary—with a Welsh accent.”

Gunter entered the room and bowed. “Good evening, Professor Doyle. The manservant informs me that you claim to be here on an important mission.” He glanced at Ramses, curled his lip, and turned his attention back to Sethos. “Please enlighten me, sir.”