Ethan Gage Collection # 1 by William Dietrich Read Free Book Online

everyone will have forgotten the unfortunate death of a whore.”
    â€œAn expedition where?” I’ve always been skeptical of Alexander, who may have done a great deal in a short time but was dead one year younger than my own age, a fact which didn’t recommend his career in the slightest.
    â€œWhere do you think?” Berthollet said impatiently. “Egypt! We go not just to seize a key trade route and open the door to our allies fighting the British in India. We go to explore the dawn of history. There might be useful secrets there. Better we men of science have the clues than the heretical Egyptian Rite, no?”
    â€œEgypt?” By Franklin’s ghost, what possible interest did I have there? Few Europeans had ever seen the place, shrouded as it was in Arab mystery. I had a vague impression of sand, the pyramids, and heathen fanaticism.
    â€œNot that you’re much of a scientist or a Freemason,” Berthollet amended. “But as an American and frontiersman, you might offer interesting perspective. Your medallion may also be a stroke of luck. If Silano wants it, it could have significance.”
    I hadn’t heard much past the first sentence. “Why aren’t I much of a scientist or Mason?” I was defensive because I secretly agreed.
    â€œCome, Ethan,” Talma said. “Berthollet means you’ve yet to make your mark.”
    â€œI am saying, Monsieur Gage, that at the age of thirty-three, your achievement is well short of your ability, and your ambition is shy of diligence. You’ve not contributed reports to the academies, advanced in Masonic degree, accumulated a fortune, started a family, owned a home, or produced writing of distinction. Frankly, I was skeptical when Antoine first suggested you. But he thinks you have potential,and we rationalists are enemies of the mystic followers of Cagliostro. I don’t want the medallion slipping from your guillotined neck. I greatly respect Franklin, and hope you might someday copy him. So, you can seek to prove your innocence in the revolutionary courts. Or you can come with us.”
    Talma grasped my arm. “Egypt, Ethan! Think of it!”
    This would completely overturn my life, but then how much life did I have to overturn? Berthollet had made an annoyingly accurate assessment of my character, though I was rather proud of my travels. Few men had seen as much of North America as I had—or, admittedly, done as little with it.
    â€œDoesn’t somebody already own Egypt?”
    Berthollet waved his hand. “It is nominally part of the Ottoman Empire but is really under the control of a renegade caste of slave warriors called the Mamelukes. They ignore Constantinople more than they pay tribute to it, and they oppress the ordinary Egyptians. They are not even of the same race! Ours is a mission of liberation, not conquest, Monsieur Gage.”
    â€œWe won’t have to do the fighting?”
    â€œBonaparte assures us we’ll take Egypt with a cannon shot or two.”
    Well, that was optimistic. Napoleon sounded like a general who was either a shrewd opportunist or blind as a stone. “This Bonaparte, what do you think of him?” We’d all heard his praise after his early victories, but he’d spent little time in Paris and was largely unknown. Word was that he was something of an upstart.
    â€œHe’s the most energetic man I’ve ever met, and will either succeed spectacularly or fail spectacularly,” Talma said.
    â€œOr, as is the case with many ambitious men, do both,” Berthollet amended. “There’s no denying his brilliance, but it is judgment that makes greatness.”
    â€œI will be abandoning all my trade and diplomatic contacts,” I said. “And run as if I’m guilty of murder. Can’t the police find Count Silano and the captain who lost the card game? Put us all in a room and let the truth come out?”
    Berthollet looked