Covert in Cairo, page 17
“What do you want with me?” I dropped into a chair.
“In addition to your charming company, I want to calculate how to end this war.” He sat across from me and sipped champagne. “For a small island, your countrymen are notorious for violently colonizing the entire world.” He lifted a cloth off the platter.
Golly. Strawberries, oranges, and cheese. How did he come by such delicacies? Back home, I was lucky to get war bread and the occasional tomato. In the service of espionage, and out of duty to my country, I picked up a strawberry and bit into it. Oh, my. It was heavenly.
For all his faults, Fredricks did offer excellent hospitality. At least he hadn’t kidnapped me by force like he did the first time he’d offered me wine and strawberries.
“What about the Germans?” I set aside the wretched bottle of Coca-Cola. “They’re violent and underhanded.” I’d seen firsthand the results of the German’s use of mustard gas. Utterly revolting that any man could do that to another man.
“When push comes to shove, everyone is violent and underhanded.” He poured himself another glass of champagne. “Even your beloved Lieutenant Somersby. At least the Germans are honest in their declarations of war, unlike your insidious countrymen who infiltrate even the sewers under the banner of friendship.” He sat the bottle down with such force that I felt it on the other side of the table. “And then attack from within like a cancer destroying its host.”
“I may not understand the ins and outs of politics, but the English people are honest and hardworking and—”
“Don’t be naïve, Fiona.” He waved my words away as if they were pesky flies. “The British are as dishonest as they come. They even lie to themselves.”
I nearly choked on a bit of strawberry. “I may be naïve, but at least I’m not a killer.” I glared at him.
“When push comes to shove,” he sneered, “everyone is a killer.”
My cheeks burned. “Not me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Agent Relish might disagree.”
Overcome by a wave of nausea, I dropped the fruit. “Did you add morphine to that syringe?”
“Moi?” He put his hand to his chest. “Have you forgotten I was attacked too?” He took a strawberry from the tray and popped it into his mouth.
Bang!
There was a loud crash. The door to the room flew open.
I whipped my head around.
“Freeze!” A black-clad figure jumped into the room.
Oh, my word. A flash of black lightning, Kitty was dressed in black from head to toe. Black knee-length bloomers. Black stockings. Black waistcoat over a black silk shirt. She looked like a fencer from a magazine. Instead of a blade, she wielded a revolver.
She bolted into the room, gun drawn and aimed right at Fredricks’s head.
“How did you find me?” I dropped a strawberry back onto the tray and stood up. What would the girl think of me, having a tea party with our enemy?
“My little bloodhound.” She glanced at the floor where Poppy was turning in circles.
“Poppy to the rescue.” I reached down and patted the little creature. “Good girl.”
“Put your hands on your head.” Kitty’s voice was commanding, no longer the giggling girl I knew. “Slowly.” She waved the gun at Fredricks.
“Careful,” Fredricks said, raising his hands in the air. “That’s not a toy, my child.” Like a cat about to pounce, he didn’t take his eyes off the girl… or her gun.
“I’m taking you in for the murder of Jean-Baptiste Lorrain.” Kitty took a few steps closer to her target.
“I didn’t kill him,” Fredricks scoffed. “Check my alibi. I was at the party until after midnight, and then escorted my friend Miss Al-Madie home.”
“You’re the second person to give Miss Al-Madie as an alibi,” I said. When Kitty wasn’t looking, I snatched another strawberry from the tray and popped it into my mouth. After all, this bloody war wasn’t over and, even if I survived, I might not get another one for years.
“Stand up, slowly.” Kitty thrust the gun at Fredricks. “Hands above your head.”
“And what about Mr. Relish?” I swallowed the strawberry and went to Kitty’s side.
“Agent Relish and I were having a friendly chat when someone attacked us.” Fredricks stood up. “He died at the hospital, remember.”
Technically true. I cringed. If I had killed the man, it was a terrible accident. If Fredricks had somehow sabotaged the morphine bottle to frame me, he was a lowdown good-for-nothing… all while claiming to care for me.
“Move it.” Kitty waved the gun. “Keep your hands up.”
“Where are you taking him—”
She cut me off. “Whose side are you on?” Kitty shot me a look. “I saw you eating strawberries and drinking champagne with your dearest Fredricks.”
“I was not drinking champagne.”
Fredricks smiled.
“And those stolen glances…” Kitty shook her head. “It would be romantic if it weren’t so pathetic.”
“Now, see here.” Utterly appalled by the suggestion of romance with Fredricks, I was tongue-tied. “That’s no way to talk to your… your…”
“My what?” She stepped behind Fredricks and jabbed the gun into his back. “You’re not really my aunt.”
Bark. Bark. Bark.
Poppy growled and snarled. I’d never seen her so agitated. Her snout was pointed toward the ceiling, and she let out a pitiful howl. What in the world had gotten into her? Perhaps she didn’t approve of the way her mistress was behaving. I must say, neither did I. Confronting an adversary was no excuse for rudeness—on the part of the dog or the girl.
“Shhhhh. Poppy, behave.” I bent down to pet her.
Blimey. That’s when I saw them. Black boots approached from the hallway.
When I stood up, I was face to face with a Luger pistol.
“Drop your weapon or I’ll kill her.” The man standing before me had a pinched face, receding hairline, and the most intimidating expression I’d ever seen. He was holding Poppy hostage.
“Ladies, may I introduce Herr Hermann Gabler?” Fredricks sidestepped Kitty’s gun. “Germany’s most promising young Egyptologist.”
Herr Gabler’s brush mustache twitched.
“Not to mention the most corrupt.” Fredricks spun around and grabbed the gun out of Kitty’s hand.
“Drop it.” Gabler dropped Poppy and reached out and caught me around the waist. “Or I’ll shoot.” He held the Luger to my head.
I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the end.
What did Fredricks care if the German shot me?
17
THE COLLAR
The barrel of the Luger burned cold against my temple. I sucked in air. My palms were sweating, and I was afraid to open my eyes. I waited for the fatal shot.
A clattering nearby startled me, and I opened my eyes.
Fredricks had dropped Kitty’s gun on the floor.
Wait. Weren’t Fredricks and Gabler on the same side?
The tension between the four of us filled the storage room-cum-spy headquarters. As the walls of the windowless room closed in on me, I gulped air, wondering which one might be my last breath. The strange machine on the desk whirred. I jerked. Herr Gabler tightened his grip on me.
“Kick it over here,” Herr Gabler said. The creases in his forehead deepened. The promising young Egyptologist obviously looked older than his years. Criminal activity must have aged him prematurely.
Fredricks kicked the gun and it slid across the stone floor.
“Now sit down with your hands in the air.” Herr Gabler waved his Luger. “All of you.” He gave me a shove. For a small man, he was strong.
I stumbled but managed to sit in the nearest chair.
Fredricks and Kitty followed suit. We all sat around the table with our hands in the air. Poppy cowered under Kitty’s chair. Poor pup. The strawberries and champagne seemed even more out of place now than they had before.
“Move closer together.” Never taking his eyes off us, Herr Gabler bent down and snatched Kitty’s gun off the floor. “Move. Now!”
We scooted our chairs closer together until we were all on one side of the table. Kitty was seated between me and Fredricks. The poufy fabric of her bloomers touched my knee. I wished I was wearing trousers. My disguises—Dr. Vogel, Harold the helpful bellboy, Rear Admiral Arbuthnot—were like suits of armor. I always felt more protected wearing men’s clothes.
Herr Gabler pointed his Luger at Fredricks. “Put your hands behind your back.” He stuffed Kitty’s gun into the belt of his trousers.
Fredricks complied, albeit in his usual lackadaisical way. Was he never afraid? I’d never seen him flinch. He could stare down a lion. No wonder Clifford called him the Great African Hunter. Unless this charade with Herr Gabler was yet another one of his tricks.
“Behind the chair.” Still pointing the gun, Herr Gabler skated across the floor and came to a stop behind Fredricks’s chair. He pulled a length of rope out of his back trouser pocket and handed it to Kitty. “Tie him up.” He barked orders like an army sergeant.
Kitty glanced back at me, and then proceeded to tie Fredricks’s wrists behind the chair.
“Look, Gabler,” Fredricks said. “I know you hate the British as much as I do.”
“I hate snitches even more.” Gabler held the Luger to Kitty’s head. “Tighter. Tie his hands, tighter.”
Kitty yanked on one end of the rope.
“That was Dankworth, not me.” Fredricks didn’t baulk as the rope tightened around his wrists.
Dankworth? The missing British agent? “What does Dankworth have to do with this?” I sized up the distance between me and Herr Gabler. Did I dare make a move on him? I reconsidered. If I did, he might shoot Kitty. Besides, even without a damaged wing, I was no match for the wiry German.
“Nothing… any more.” Fredricks shot me a look. “Thanks to Gabler.”
“What do you mean?” Had Gabler disposed of Agent Dankworth? Kidnapped him? Or locked him in a tomb?
“Shut up!” Herr Gabler pointed the Luger at me. “All of you.” What he lacked in stature, he made up for in gruffness.
Lips tight, I glared at him.
Woosh. The sound of Kitty’s foot slicing the air caught me off guard. Again, a black boot flew past me and landed on Herr Gabler’s chin.
I gasped.
The girl held onto the edges of her chair and pinwheeled her feet into the air. Again. She landed a kick to the side of Herr Gabler’s head.
Where in the world did the girl learn to do that? “Yes!” I cheered.
The table shook and a champagne glass fell to the floor with a crash.
From under Kitty’s chair, Poppy alternated barking and growling.
Herr Gabler grunted as his head swung this way and that. But instead of dropping his Luger or falling to the floor, the attack just made him angry. He hauled off and struck Kitty with the butt of his gun.
She crumpled into a heap on the floor at my feet.
Oh, no! No. No. No. I jumped up. “What have you done?”
Herr Gabler shoved me back down onto the chair. “Hands behind your back.”
“Impossible.” I held up my bandaged arm. “My arm is broken.” Alright. I exaggerated my injury.
“You’re really getting on my nerves.” Luger in one hand, Herr Gabler jerked a handkerchief out of his breast pocket with the other. He grabbed me by the hair and stuffed the handkerchief into my mouth.
My wig was wrenched off my head.
“What the hell is this?” He held my wig in his hand like a dirty rag and then threw it across the room. It landed atop the telegraph machine. He wrapped a rope around my torso and tied me to my chair. “Keep it in your mouth or I’ll shoot you.”
The taste of his dirty handkerchief in my mouth turned my stomach, and the gag made it even more difficult to breathe in the stifling storage room.
“I have an errand to run but I’ll be back.” He bent down, rolled Kitty over onto her stomach, tied her limp hands behind her back, and then looped the rope around her ankles too. “Nasty girl.”
Poor Kitty. I’d been rather impressed with her foot-fighting—which, no doubt, she’d learned at her “boarding school” in France.
“Make any noise and I’ll turn around and shoot you.” Herr Gabler left and slammed the door.
Thank heavens the heinous man was gone. I managed to spit out the handkerchief. “What’s going on here?” If only I could have reached Fredricks, I would have socked him. He’d gotten us into this mess, after all. “Aren’t you working with that horrible man?”
“Gabler has a bee in his bonnet.” Fredricks tugged at the ropes around his wrists. “He thinks I turned him in for selling antiquities on the black market.” He scooted his chair around to face me. “I only wish I had.”
“Illegal antiquities.” Surely Fredricks wasn’t in Cairo to protect antiquities.
“Neither side in this bloody war has the right to pillage Egypt’s heritage.” His countenance was stern. He was nothing if not an idealist.
“Where is Ag… er, Mr. Dankworth?” I stared down at Kitty to see if she was still breathing.
Throwing my body against the ropes, again I tried to free myself. Struggling with all my might, I strained to break loose. It was no use. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I was bound up like a Christmas goose.
“Keeping lover boy company, I’m afraid.” Fredricks cursed as he labored against his ropes. “Did the girl really have to tie me so tight?”
Lover boy? Did he mean… “Archie?”
Had Herr Gabler—or Fredricks—kidnapped Agent Dankworth and deposited him in the tomb with Archie? Blast it. I had to liberate myself so I could save Archie and Agent Dankworth. Every time I twisted against the rope, I got a stabbing pain in my arm.
Kitty groaned.
Thank heavens. She was still alive.
I let out a great sigh of relief.
She said something I didn’t understand. Heavens. Was she speaking Russian? The whack on the head must have made her delirious.
Tail wagging, Poppy emerged from under the chair.
Kitty lifted her bound hands behind her back and said something else… in Russian. Or was it an Asian language? Chinese maybe?
Poppy put her front paws on Kitty’s back and then ducked her furry little head under the rope that connected the girl’s hands and feet. What in the world? The little dog caught the biggest gemstone on her collar on the rope and proceeded to tug and wiggle.
Unbelievable!
The rope began to fray.
“Good girl,” Kitty said, encouragingly. She wrenched her head back to glance over her shoulder at Poppy, who was busy using the stone of her collar to saw through the rope.
It must be a real diamond. Otherwise, it couldn’t cut through that rope.
Tug. Wag. Yap. Pant. Saw. Snap.
Oh, my word. She did it. With her collar, Poppy had cut through the rope.
Kitty kicked her feet and the rope fell away. Now only her hands were tied.
“Bravo.” I would have clapped my hands if I could. “Good doggie.”
Kitty flipped over onto her back, sat up, and jumped into a squatting position—all with her hands still tied behind her back. Now, she was squatting on the floor next to the table where Fredricks and I were tied to chairs. She was as agile as a cat.
Like a circus contortionist, she slid her arms around under her legs until her arms were tied in front of her body. She drew her knife from her boot, and then stood up and came behind me.
Suddenly, the rope fell away from my body. How did she do that so fast? Her wrists were bound. Nimble fingers?
Whatever she’d done, I was free.
“My turn,” Fredricks said, wiggling his fingers.
I dashed over to him.
“Are you mad?” Kitty said, shaking her head. “Don’t untie him.”
She had a point. He was our enemy, after all.
“He’s tied to a chair, for heaven’s sake.” I slapped the back of his chair. “Do you plan to take chair and all?” Had she changed her mind about taking him in? We couldn’t just leave him here for Herr Gabler.
Poppy growled, alerting us to approaching footsteps.
I froze. “He’s coming back!” I stage whispered, glancing around for a hiding place.
“Quick. Get into the wardrobe,” Fredricks said. “I’ll cover for you.”
I didn’t trust him. But I had no choice. The footfalls were getting louder.
Kitty scooped up the pup and dashed to the wardrobe. She held Poppy in one hand and opened the wardrobe door for me with the other. “Hurry.”
I climbed into the wardrobe and shut the door.
My heart was racing. I was panting as fast as Poppy.
Filled with old costumes, the wardrobe smelled musty. I huddled between a frilly ballgown and a pirate’s outfit. It was too dark to see Poppy, but I could hear her panting. Within seconds, the smell of warm dog breath overpowered the costumes’ stale odors.
Kitty whispered something. The pup quit panting and was as still as a grave.
Good grief. Why did I have to think of graves? I pushed the thought from my mind.
“Where are they?” The voice boomed on the other side of the wardrobe.
My hand flew to my mouth. Tears filled my eyes. Not a sound, Fiona. Not a sound.
“Gone,” Fredricks said.
“I can see that.” A chair scraped against the floor. More scraping. Fredricks groaned. What is Herr Gabler doing?
“They escaped.” Fredricks covered for us, just like he said he would. Maybe Clifford was right. His pal wasn’t all bad.
“How?” Herr Gabler didn’t sound happy.
“The dog untied them.” Fredricks chuckled.
I smiled. It was true. Poppy had rescued us.
Scuffling sounds penetrated the wardrobe. Fredricks groaned again.
What the blazes was going on out there? Was Gabler torturing him?
I felt like jumping out of the wardrobe and kicking the villain. If only I’d gone to boarding school in France.
