Chance Encounters, page 11
“To us spying is not trivial, Sir. This is not the only instance of it that we have uncovered. It proves to us that we must be eternally vigilant against foreign interests. England had shown interest in extending its influence in Africa, notably in Egypt.”
“Surely France as a near neighbor in Algeria would be more of a threat than England in far off Egypt?” A few heads in the audience bobbed in agreement.
“Still the issue to be decided here is not about international relations but about the guilt or innocence of the accused. May I also warn you that as her spokesperson, you could easily share her fate.” With that dire warning the proceeding was adjourned.
Back in the cell, Emily despaired, “They’ve made up their minds and are just playing out this charade for a semblance of justice. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”
“I came at my own risk. Besides, we aren’t done yet.” He refused to say more about it.
She was again feeling desperate, full of regret. She wished she had a piece of paper to write farewell messages to her family. In lieu, she composed them in her mind, thanking her husband for a marriage that was peaceful and comfortable. To her son, an assurance that she wasn’t afraid of whatever came, testimony of a life lived, the joys and triumphs. To her daughter, a challenge to live her life fully, not be afraid of taking chances. These thoughts calmed her considerably.
The Chief Engineer seemed impervious of the fate hanging over them. Somehow that irked Lady Bethune.
“Do you regret nothing in your life?”
“What would that serve? Life has its own momentum, things happen because they happen. We can steer this way a little, the other way a little, but can’t avoid crashing into surprises... such as this.” He spread his arms, smiling his trademark thin-lipped smile.
“You’ve never married? Wasn’t there someone in your life worth the risk?”
He didn’t reply for a long time. “There was but one...”
“What happened to her?”
He looked at her hard, struggling not to speak. We each have our milestones. Then she thought of a time long ago, with a sack over her head, lost in the dark. Today she was lost in the sunlight that poured in the window to illuminate the small cell. Both times, she had not been alone.
Chapter 14
The courtroom had the full complement of judges facing the accused. The presiding judge put a black cloth over his head and without further ado, pronounced sentence. Nadhir translated, “The accused was found guilty of spying, if not by intent, then by consequence of the outcome that letters were in her possession, letters that could do great harm to the state of Tunisia in the hands of its enemies. For this act she is condemned to death by suffocation.” Lady Bethune gave a small cry of despair. “For associating himself with the accused, Chief Engineer Fraser-Reid is condemned to fifteen years in jail.”
Lady Bethune jumped up. “That’s not fair! He had nothing to do with the letters...”
“Silence!!!” Nadhir roared. “The law is harsh, for the consequences are harsh when it comes to the security of the nation.” He turned to Chance. “Have you anything to say?”
“Indeed, I do. In my case the judgment is just. I did more than Lady Bethune to threaten the security of Tunis...”
“What?!! What...?”
“I’ve written letters to the French authorities, telling them exactly how to destroy Tunis, like the Romans did Carthage. Burn and tear down the walls, fill all the wells and scatter salt everywhere that nothing may grow in this accursed land.”
“And how have you managed all that?” Nadhir had regained his composure, his voice dripping skepticism.
“By telling them how to conquer the city without firing a single shot.”
“Again I ask, how?”
“Very simply, by telling them how to destroy the city’s water supply.” A stir went through the room. “By destroying the three aqueducts serving the city, poisoning the river and streams. The city can’t last a month using only the wells and the few cisterns to provide for the entire population.”
“Really?”
“I gave exact map references for where to blow up the aqueducts, and where to slaughter a herd of cattle upstream and let it rot there to pollute the water flowing into the city. Very simple really. All the French have to do is blockade the harbor entrance and let the plague ravage the city.” The mention of pestilence really stirred up the judges. Tides of plagues had decimated the population, the last only thirty years before.
“And you wrote this to the French?”
“Not directly. I addressed twelve letters to them, with strict instructions to be mailed if Lady Bethune and I don’t show up in Egypt by the 30th of this month.”
“You’re trying to blackmail this judicial seating!”
“Not blackmail. It’s a form of insurance. Like a policy with Lloyd’s of London. If we die, or even are late, the letters will go out to the appropriate addresses. I’m sure that the French will know what to do with them.”
“Hardly seems possible you would have the skill and expertise to...”
“I’m an engineer, concerned with water and steam. Believe me, I know exactly what it would take... With water short, all it takes is a few smuggled-in firebombs to start a conflagration that would use up your water reserves fighting fires or letting the city burn down. With the crowding of the Lower Quarter and the Waterfront, a fire would be easy. A hard choice. The letters explaining all this are on their way to Egypt now―”
“You are making this up...”
“Can you afford to take the risk? I think the French would gladly sacrifice the city to gain the rest of the country.” The translator translated hurriedly, at his words the judges looked aghast. Fire was feared as much as pestilence, and the Chief Engineer was proposing the dangers of both.
Nadhir looked contemptuous at the Chief Engineer, “And you are willing to put thousands at risk, just to save yourselves?”
Chance remained calm. “It seems to me that you’re quite willing to risk those same thousands yourself just to punish the two of us. Where is the sense in that?”
There was a hurried consult as the judges considered how best to respond. In the discussion that followed, the judges lost some of their haughtiness as they argued among themselves. The voices rose and the gestures at times became vehement.
“If, and I emphasize the if, we let you go, what assurance do we have that the letters will not go out?”
“First, our word. Second, we have no personal or national desire to help the French in anything. Although I can’t say that I have enjoyed my stay in your city, I’m not vengeful enough to unleash such a catastrophe.” Challenging, he looked the judges in the eye. “You dilemma is to risk our word against the certainty that the letters will be sent to your enemies... unless you reconsider your judgment.”
There was again a conference, sharp arguments for and against; the panel seemed split down the middle. The Chief Engineer stood calm, as he had in midst of the recent storm.
Lady Bethune sat there, her face pale, her heart hammering. Where did the Chief Engineer get the audacity to come up with such a brazen insurance policy? And more importantly, would the judges swallow it? Finally, they seemed to have come to a compromise, the faces again resuming their stony look of authority. Nadhir turned to the accused and his expression changed to conciliatory.
“It seems that we may have overestimated the damage Lady Bethune represents to our interest. Though we continue to condemn her role, we are inclined to be merciful. We therefore deem the sentence just, but suspend the sentence on grounds of compassion.”
“That seems fair. We never contested the fact that she accepted the letters, but she did so unknowingly.” Chance nodded his head approvingly, showing agreement with the concession, but he wasn’t through yet. “Our one remaining problem is that the process exposed us to a number of inconveniences. Extra costs, and the need and expense of arranging transportation to Egypt.”
Nadhir looked momentarily taken aback, but let himself into bargaining. After all, the one thing all Tunisians were good at was arguing the price of things. They were soon haggling over sums trying to make a better deal.
After quite a bit of haggling, the expenses were assumed by Tunis. A dhow would be placed at their disposal, to leave at their earliest convenience. A 500 dinar compensation was also made part of the transaction to speed them on their way.
Not long after, Lady Bethune and The Chief Engineer stood on deck of a dhow watching the city shrink as they sailed away. Lady Bethune couldn’t breathe freely until they had left the channel and reached the open sea of the Mediterranean.
“Now tell me honestly,” Lady Bethune asked, her eyes sharp on the Chief Engineer. “Did you write those letters or was it all a bluff?”
“Does it really matter now?” Chance looked back at the coastline, a strip of land fading from sight. “I might have, then again I might not...” was his answer. Lady Bethune couldn’t decide between the alternatives. She shuddered that her life had been balanced on such a flimsy supposition. There had to be those letters, she decided, struggling back to firmer ground. It was unthinkable that the Chief Engineer could be such a gambler, daring such slim odds.
“We made it,” she said finally when the land slipped below the horizon, not sure which was real: the freedom or the nightmare of the last days.
“And this time we didn’t even need a carpet.”
“What did you say???”
“Surely, you remember the oriental story of the magical carpet that flies...?”
Chapter 15
The dhow caught up with the Orion in Alexandria. The cruise ship was tied up quayside opposite the Hotel Arambas where most of the passengers were staying while in port.
Lady Bethune and the Chief Engineer, followed by a porter, made their way up the companion ladder of the Orion. Most of the crew were portside so only the Third Officer on watch saw the two arrive topside.
“My God! Is it really you?”
“Yes it’s me,” Chance replied, rather irritated. “Where’s Captain Harris?”
“In his cabin, I believe.” The Third Officer’s eyes were large with amazement.
The Chief Engineer led them to the Captain’s cabin and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came a gruff reply.
Chance held the door open for Lady Bethune to enter. Inside an astounded Captain beheld the sudden appearance of his two visitors. “How? How did you...? Escape?”
“No. We negotiated our freedom,” Chief Engineer said simply.
“Well, he did,” Lady Bethune added, pointing to her companion.
It took about half an hour to describe the events.
“My God, we thought you were both dead or in prison!” The captain couldn’t get over their exploits. “My God, I wrote to your husband in Cairo and notified the consulate...” Captain Harris was confused. “Now what?”
“I must go to my husband right away,” Lady Bethune said.
“The mail boat just left and won’t be back until next week.”
“Can’t wait that long. I must intercept my husband before he does something rash...”
“You could take a local boat upriver and be there in two days. The feluccas are primitive but they’ll get you there sooner than a scheduled steam boat.”
“Then felucca it is,” Lady Bethune decided. “I’ll take very little; you must send the rest by steam later.”
“Of course. Of course.” The Captain rose belatedly, recovering from his shock. “It’s exceedingly good to see you safe, Lady Bethune. I... We were devastated by your arrest and that we... we could do nothing for you.”
“You did well to leave your Chief Engineer to rescue me.”
The Captain look confused. “He did that on his own accord.”
It was Lady Bethune’s turn to be surprised. “Then I owe you even more thanks...”
But the Chief Engineer waved her off. “It was my duty, Milady. As it is to accompany you to Cairo.”
“Yes, yes. The shipping firm owes you that much.” The Captain turned to Chance to make it official. “You will make sure that Lady Bethune is delivered safely to her husband.”
On leaving the cabin, they were swooped down upon by Lady Chillon. “My God, it’s true. You’re safe! You’re here!” She grabbed Emily and hugged her ferociously. “You don’t know how agonizing it’s been...” and she burst into tears.
“There, there,” Lady Bethune consoled her friend.
“My God, I wrote to your husband! That you were imprisoned and being tried for spying. What tortures he must be feeling now...” The new worry replaced Lady Chillon’s relief.
“We’re hurrying to Cairo right away.”
“We?”
“The Chief Engineer will be accompanying me.”
“Yes, that’ll be good. You can’t be alone in these countries.”
While Emily took a quick bath, Lady Chillon packed a small bag for her. She promised to pack the rest later. Refreshed, in new clothes, Lady Bethune arrived on deck to join the Chief Engineer who was all ready to go. The Captain had a felucca waiting and helped the lady on board. “The fare’s been paid, Milady. And again, my deepest apologies.”
“Good luck. Be safe,” Lady Chillon called from the deck, waving her handkerchief.
Old, sun-bleached, and primitive, the felucca wasn’t a water craft to inspire much confidence. At least it was larger than other boats of similar design. The craft had no cabin but a sheet had been stretched for the passengers’ comfort. A crew of three handled the boat with seeming expertise, setting the lateen-rigged sails and making good progress along the shore.
Shading herself from the reflection of the sunlight from the water’s surface, Lady Bethune asked, “Have you stopped those letters then?” The Chief Engineer, whose face remained an unreadable mask, didn’t answer her. She dared not ask again, preferring to let the mystery go: never in her life had she encountered such brazen disregard of fate hanging in the balance. It took her some time to realize that wasn’t strictly true: once before, someone had wagered a life to save her.
With the city left behind, for a good while they sailed along the coast, reaching the Nile delta by late afternoon. They turned into an expanse of green that soon swallowed them. It seemed that the delta was a vast jungle of lush vegetation. On both sides, an unending vista of reeds waved in the breeze, and water plants crowded the waterway. They passed an occasional boat fishing with nets cast into the water, or other boats with sail full on, heading upstream. Deeper into the greenery, they tied up for the night by a waterlogged tree. A fine-mesh net was erected and bedding arranged. Given the Spartan accommodations, Lady Bethune soon wished she’d waited for the mail boat.
With the rising of the sun, they were again underway, and as it got hotter the passengers hid in the shadow of the much-mended sail. From time to time they pulled to shore to allow people to attend to their needs. Lady Bethune found this situation most unsatisfactory, and the lack of opportunities for proper exercise of hygiene insufferable. With grim determination she tried not to complain to the Chief Engineer who seemed unaffected by all these discomforts. Still, in his uniform, he looked every inch an officer.
Lady Bethune talked little because they’d already exhausted most topics on board the dhow, and inasmuch as the Chief Engineer refused to talk about himself, Lady Bethune was constrained to turn to her books for amusement. She read; he watched the shoreline moodily.
It took three days more to reach the outskirts of Cairo. Lady Bethune was stiff from all the sitting, sick and tired of not being able to move around freely. She was dirty and suffered the indignity of it. It was with great relief that she was able to exit the boat and walk unsteadily up the steps to enter the Palace Hotel that catered to foreigners. Stiffening her resolve, dirty as she was, she marched to the front desk and checked in, to her surprise able to do so in English. Immediately she went to her room.
First, she had to have a bath and fresh clothes and only then asked for some food. She was served light refreshments and told that the dining room would be open in an hour.
The Chief Engineer joined her at the table and they decided on a lamb dish. After the sparse diet on the felucca, the meal was delicious. It was nice to be ensconced in comfortable seating surrounded by luxury of sight and service. Most of all, free of the swarm of pesky insects.
“I’ve made some inquiries. Lord Bethune is expected back within days from an archeological dig south of Luxor.”
“Yes. He’s collecting artifacts for the British Museum. He buys oriental rugs and sells them in England. You won’t believe the demand for oriental things in London. Everybody has to have some. All this import is only to finance his true passion.” There was a hint of regret in Lady Bethune’s statement of facts. More than likely she would have liked a share of those passions.
“I learned that the Captain’s and Lady Chillon’s letters have been forwarded to him, so I’m afraid that he won’t be spared the worry.”
“Couldn’t be helped, I suppose.”
“He has rooms at the Lions Head Hotel, a half mile up the river front.”
“Did they say when he would be back more precisely?”
“Not exactly, only that it could be as early as tomorrow.”
“Then first thing in the morning, I shall check in there. You could safely leave me there.”
Chance shook his head. “I have my orders to hand you over personally.”
“It’s not as if I’m a piece of luggage,” Lady Bethune protested mildly, but secretly, she was glad. She felt indebted to the man and enjoyed his presence. Having been constantly in each other’s company, they developed an odd intimacy based on shared experiences, but he remained an enigma to her. Also, she was cognizant of an increased awkwardness of their positions; after all she was expecting her husband and was soon to resume her role as a dutiful wife.
Next morning they moved over to the Lion Hotel. Yes, Lord Bethune was expected back at any time, they were told. She was allowed into his room and poked among his things, finding shipping manifests, schedules and general correspondence. There were several bookshelves of reference materials, and a half finished research paper on the desk. She made herself at home.
