“My friend Hessam told me that he was stopped by a tall man with a great bushy beard who was looking for Harun. Hessam was frightened and ran away. He is a coward. I would have kicked the man before I ran away.”

Ramses gazed at David. “I’m not surprised that Sethos is as eager as we to find this workshop and lay his hands on the original bust. He was in the alley behind the German embassy when we exited with all due haste. He must have believed that Gunter possessed it, and was plotting to steal it when we upstaged him.”

“He did not attempt to take it from us,” David commented as he lit his pipe. “He had a gun, after all. He could have forced us to stop and . . . well . . .”

“Were it not for his inexplicable adulation of my mother, he probably would have done so. Now we are one step ahead of him. It is not too far to the Egyptian Museum. I suggest we go to the tourist shop and purchase the bust. If it is the original, then we may be able to catch the night train. If not, then we proceed to the warehouse to deal with Harun. Latif, we will require your services for the next few hours. You will be rewarded generously for your ingenuity.”

“Shukran,” Latif said cheerfully as tea dribbled down his chin. “I am ready.”

Ramses paid the bill. To the lad’s delight, they took a carriage to the shop, and then went inside. The proprietor cringed when Ramses nudged aside the tourists and approached.

“Masa el-kheir, Brother of Demons,” he whimpered. “I am most grateful for your presence in my unworthy shop. Please tell me how I can accommodate you.”

“Produce the bust of Nefertiti that you purchased earlier.”

“I do not know of what you speak. I have a very fine shabti from the tomb of Taharqa. May I show it to you?”

Ramses spread his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “I am not in the mood to listen to your evasions. Bring me the bust or face my fury!” Once the bust was placed on the counter, he growled in frustration. “Now we possess three copies, damn it! You can see where the apprentice nicked her throat. He attempted to patch it with plaster and repaint it, but it is flawed.”

“Take it,” begged the proprietor. “It is rubbish, and I must protect my reputation. Please let me wrap it for you, Brother of Demons.”

David had bent down to examine the nick. “Only you would notice it,” he said as he straightened up. “If we are to take this damn thing, we need a bag. Surely one can be found in the back room.”

“That’s right,” Latif said, his thin arms crossed. “Bring us a bag or the Brother of Demons destroys you! I promise there will be blood!”