Covert in Cairo, page 19
“We haven’t been able to locate him.” The officer tapped his notepad with his pen.
Find him and you’ll find the killer. I kept my mouth shut. Either Fredricks did it or he knew who did. I only hoped I found the scoundrel before the police did. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. I wanted to see the look on his face when I hauled him in. I wanted the satisfaction of finally beating him at his own game.
The copper held up a finger and then went back to his notepad.
Chloroform. I should have recognized the smell. If only I’d checked the bottle before preparing the injection. How was I to know someone had tampered with it? It wasn’t my fault… was it?
Overcome with nausea and pain, I put my head in my hands. My elbows slid and my head almost hit the table. Given the level of my exhaustion, I wished it had knocked me unconscious and put me out of my misery.
I needed a warm bath, a hot cuppa, and a good night’s sleep. But most of all, I needed to make sure Archie was safe.
“What happened to your arm?” The copper didn’t look up.
“I fell off a horse at the Gezira Sporting Club.” Actually, a branch threw me off a horse during a fox hunt, but I didn’t want to admit either of those things to this man.
“How very posh.” He closed his notebook.
Did he think I was a toff?
Even if I were, that was no reason to be rude.
19
THE MISSING AGENT
By the time I got back to the hotel, I was dead on my feet. Severely sleep deprived, in full migraine mode, my vision was blurry, and my mouth was as dry as the Arabian desert. I hoped Clifford and Kitty had made it to the tomb in time to save Archie. There was no way I could make it back to the tomb on my own, especially if it meant riding another dung-encrusted ass.
Slightly off-balance, I crossed the lobby, which stretched out before me like an endless sea. Unfamiliar faces stared at me with concern. I didn’t even want to think of the mess I’d become. I was queasy from pain and lack of sleep, and it took all my effort to drag myself to the lift.
I’d forgotten to pick up my key at the front desk, so I rapped on the door to our room. Waiting for Kitty to open it, I leaned against the door frame.
Bed. I needed to lie down.
The door burst open, nearly knocking me over. Dressed in a pink cotton frock with bright yellow flowers, and a yellow sailor hat, Kitty stood smiling at me. “Aunt Fiona, are you alright?”
“No.” I pushed past her.
Barking, Poppy jumped up and down and then turned in circles like a whirling dervish.
Clifford paced the room. “Good lord. You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“You would too if a fiendish panther had been toying with you.” I threw myself onto my bed. “Your brilliant friend and hunting pal.”
Poppy followed close on my heels.
“What happened?” Kitty grabbed the pillow off her bed and brought it to me.
“Thank you, dear.” I added her pillow to my own and propped myself up. “Did you find Archie? Is he alright?”
Clifford and Kitty looked at each other.
“What’s happened to Lieutenant Somersby?” Clifford said, pulling out his pipe.
I gave him the evil eye. He pouted but put the offending object away. “Didn’t you hear me ask you to go to Lorrain’s tomb?”
“No.” Clifford’s shoulders jerked as if from an unwanted slap on the back. “Why?”
I pulled myself to my feet. “I’ll fill you in on the gory details later. Right now, we need to save Archie.” I glanced at my watch. It had just gone noon. Those cursed coppers had kept me at the nick for hours.
How long had Archie been tied up without food or water? Not yet twenty-four hours, although it felt like it had been a week since I’d seen him. Even an hour bound up in a dank tomb was deuced unpleasant. And he was bleeding. How badly, I didn’t know.
I went to the dressing table and peered into the looking glass. Good heavens. What a mess! My wig was ratty and askew, my gown was filthy and streaked with dirt and blood. Where did that come from? I examined my person to make sure it wasn’t mine. Must be Archie’s. My gown also had a large tear to boot. The purple bags under my eyes made me look a hundred years old. I covered my face with my hand.
Kitty joined me at the mirror. “You need to rest.”
She led me to my bed and I sat down with a groan. My head felt like it might explode. I rubbed my temples.
“She’s ill, poor thing.” Clifford came to my bedside. “Can I get you a glass of water? How about a cup of tea?”
“That would be lovely.” I nodded. “And some headache powders.”
Poppy jumped up onto my bed and licked my face. I was too tired to stop her.
Clifford opened and closed his mouth like a gasping codfish. “Righto.” He took off at a trot and disappeared from the room.
“Kitty, dear.” I lifted my head. “Can you get us back out to Monsieur Lorrain’s tomb?”
“I could hire some camels.” She sat on the edge of my bed. Her own bed was piled high with clothing.
The thought of riding one of those stinky beasts again turned my stomach. “Is there no other way?” Why didn’t they have a motorcar or trolley out to the pyramids? It would be so much more convenient.
“Would you prefer donkeys?” She patted my ankle. “They’re slower.”
“I would prefer something that didn’t have a mind of its own.” I shut my eyes. “Or a stomach and everything it entails.” Oh dear. My head was under attack by Vickers machine guns, and someone had lobbed a grenade at my stomach. “Archie. He’s bleeding—”
A rap on the door signaled Clifford’s return.
“A glass of water and a cup of tea,” Clifford said. “As ordered.”
I pried an eye open.
He sat the beverages on the nightstand and then handed me a packet of powders.
I tried to lift myself on my elbows. But with the hurt arm, it was impossible. With an audible groan, I rolled onto my side and with great effort levered myself upright. “Thank you, Clifford, dear.” Whatever his faults, he was loyal, in contrast to my ex-husband, Fredricks, and just about every other person I knew.
Clifford handed me the glass of water and a spoon.
I opened the packet, poured in the powder, gave it a stir, and drank it down. Ugh. I washed it down with tea.
Unlike the Americans and the French, the Egyptians knew how to make a good cuppa. Strong tea with a splash of milk.
As my grandmother always said, “If tea can’t fix it, it must be darned serious.” Only she didn’t say darned. “And even then, tea helps.” Not even a strong cuppa could console me if I didn’t save Archie. If only this blasted migraine would subside. With my vision blurred and my head spinning, I doubted I could even stand up at this point, let alone ride a blooming donkey.
It was difficult to drink tea with one hand. I couldn’t hold the saucer and drink at the same time. As I tried to replace the cup on the saucer, the whole kit-and-caboodle slid onto the floor. Drat. There went my only hope at revival. I stared down at the dark spot on the carpet and wanted to cry from sheer exhaustion.
Poppy jumped off the bed and licked at the spot. I was almost envious of the little beast.
The carpet! Good grief. My fiber sample. I sat upright and then fished in my pocket for the fiber. I held the frayed orange threads between my thumb and forefinger. “A carpet sample from the German Archeology Institute.”
Kitty extended her hand, and I dropped the fiber into her palm.
“Orange and green carpet.” I scrabbled around in my pocket. Where was the bit of white plant? “This might establish the whereabouts of Jean-Baptiste’s attack.” I handed her the chamomile flower. “White plant matter.”
“Would you like me to test it now?” Kitty went to the dressing table and dropped the fiber into a small envelope. “Or shall we rescue your Lieutenant Somersby first?”
I stood up but got so dizzy, I had to sit back down.
“We’ll go to the tomb.” Kitty came to my side. “You get some rest, Aunt Fiona.”
“Good idea.” Clifford joined her at my bedside.
The last few days weighed heavily on me, as if I was being pressed onto my bed like a dried and wilted flower. As I lay back on the pillows, tears rolled across my temples.
“Everything will be alright, old bean.” Clifford stood over me. “You’ll see.” He bent down and patted my hand. “You’ll figure it out.” He smiled. “You always do.”
“Figure out what?” The light hurt my eyes.
“Everything.” He beamed down at me. “And don’t worry about Lieutenant Somersby. He’s a tough lad.” Good old Clifford. “Kitty and I will go and fetch him.” He brushed a strand of my wig out of my watery eyes. He really was a decent sort.
“Poppy will stay with you.” Kitty lifted the pup onto my bed. “Take good care of Aunt Fiona.”
I didn’t have the heart to object.
When I woke up, the room was dark. Had I slept through the night? Why didn’t Kitty wake me? Groggy, I sat up in bed. My gown stuck to my skin, and I felt covered in a thin layer of Egypt.
Did they rescue Archie? Was the canal safe? Had Kitty tested the fibers and discovered the location of Jean-Baptiste’s murder, and perhaps the identity of the killer too?
I willed my eyes to adjust to the darkness. What had I missed?
Kitty’s bed was empty—or at least empty of her person.
Desperate to scrape off the desert, I decided on a bath. My migraine had dulled into a hangover. Perhaps a soak would help revive me. Then I could go looking for Archie and my companions.
Loath to turn on the light for fear my migraine would come back, I picked my way across the room in the dark to the lav. Once inside, I shut the door, careful not to make any noise. Any sound or bright light might trigger the migraine again. I squeezed my eyes shut and then turned on the light. Opening my eyes halfway, I waited for my poor tired brain to process even the smallest amount of light.
As I turned on the tap, I realized something was missing. It was entirely too quiet. I was reminded of Conan Doyle’s story “Silver Blaze,” wherein Holmes reports the curious incident of the dog in the night, which turns out to be the absence of the dog in the night.
Why wasn’t Poppy barking? Or at least tripping me up as I went to the lav? Had Kitty changed her mind and taken the pup with her to the tomb after all? Gracious me. A lump formed in my throat. Weren’t they back from the tomb yet? Had something happened to them? Were they too late? Was Archie dead?
I turned off the tap, adjusted my wig and clothing as best as I could, and dashed out into the other room. Flipping on the light confirmed my fears. Poppy was gone. Had they come back while I was sleeping and taken Poppy out for a walk? The little creature couldn’t have escaped, could she? I circled the room like a headless chicken.
Calm down, Fiona.
All three of them were probably just next door in Clifford’s room… or down on the terrace… or in the restaurant.
I glanced at my watch. It had gone four. I moved the heavy curtain and looked out the window. The sun was low in the sky. It would be dark in an hour. Nights were long in Cairo in December.
I dashed next door to Clifford’s room and knocked. Nothing. I knocked again. No answer. Curses. Where were they? Lying unconscious in a tomb? Or laughing over cocktails in the bar?
I went back to my room and stuffed my buttoned pockets with spy paraphernalia. I checked my handbag for Mata Hari’s gun.
On my way out of the hotel, I peeked into the bar. Nope. Not there. I hurried out to the terrace and scanned the tables. Not there either. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know what else to do. I ran back through the hotel and out the back door, racing around the zoo to the stables. I would have to rent a camel and ride out to Lorrain’s tomb myself.
If anything had happened to Archie—or the girl—I’d never forgive myself. Of course, Clifford was the one I should worry about. No doubt Archie or Kitty could take on any comers. Please, let Poppy be alright.
When I arrived at the stable, the dragoman was just closing the doors. “Sorry, madam, we’re closed.” The sleeve of his robe waved in the wind as he gripped the door latch.
“But I need a camel.” I fished in my bag for my purse. “My friends are in trouble.” I pulled out a note. “I’ll pay double.” I held out the money.
“Too dangerous in the desert at twilight.” He shook his head. “Especially for lady.”
“Triple.” I pulled out another note.
He tilted his head and waited.
Another note. And another. After another minute, I held a wad of cash. “Here,” I said, defeated. “This is all I have.”
He snatched the bills from my hand. “Don’t blame me if you don’t come back.” He opened the barn door.
“Thank you, sir.” I followed him inside. “I’ll get your camel back to you.”
“I’m not worried about camel.” He smiled. “He knows the way home.”
The desert sunset was a magnificent blanket of reds and golds. If I hadn’t been in such a hurry, I could have stopped to admire it. As it was, I would be lucky to reach Monsieur Lorrain’s tomb before complete darkness.
Riding a camel was difficult under the best of circumstances. Riding with one hand took all my concentration and then some. As much as it hurt, I had to use my bad arm to steady myself, otherwise I’d fall off the stinky beast.
“Come on, you foul thing,” I shouted. “Faster.”
The creature let out a pitiful groan. But it did quicken its pace. The animal could move when it wanted to.
All my muscles were taut. My heart was racing faster than the camel. Please, let them be alright. Please, let them be alright. This silent prayer echoed through my head endlessly. Please, let them be alright.
When the silhouette of the Great Sphinx of Giza came into view, I let out an audible sigh. Almost there. Of course, I wasn’t almost there. The blooming Sphinx dominated the horizon for hectares. At least it gave me my bearings.
The moon rising over the Sphinx took my breath away. It also helped illuminate my way.
Finally. Monsieur Lorrain’s tomb was in sight. I gritted my teeth for the last few yards of my perilous journey. I passed the ragged tent, its flaps waving in the breeze. No one had touched anything since Jean-Baptiste’s death. At least not officially.
A dim light glowed at the tomb’s entrance. Two camels were tied to the hitching post. Someone was inside with a torch. Archie? Clifford and Kitty? That bounder Fredricks or the evil Hermann Gabler? I shuddered. Whoever it was, I was about to find out. I took a deep breath and prepared to dismount.
Dismounting was even more difficult than mounting the beast. My efforts landed me on the sand in a solid thud that knocked the air out of me. I rolled clear of the camel’s hooves. Once I’d caught my breath, I picked myself up and brushed myself off.
I wrapped the camel’s leather rein around the post. “Stay!”
Picking my way across the rocks and sand, I creeped toward the entrance. Breathe, Fiona. Just breathe.
Just in case, I pulled Mata Hari’s gun from my bag. Clutching it in both hands, I entered the tomb. “Hello?” I took a few more steps. “Anybody here?” Ears pricked, I stopped and listened. A faint hammering reverberated through the cave. Was someone excavating?
That horrible smell was even stronger than before. I put the crook of my arm over my nose and tiptoed inside. Luckily, I had my small American torch in my handbag. But given I had only one working arm, I had to choose between the gun and the torch. What good would the gun do if I couldn’t see? I traded the gun for the torch and clicked it on. Staying close to the wall, I made my way to the spot where I’d last seen Archie.
The deeper I got into the tomb, the louder the hammering and the stronger the smell. Did I hear voices too?
“Hello?” I stumbled along next to the wall. “Archie?”
I shone the torch around the tomb. My heart leaped into my throat.
He was gone. I whirled around. This was where I’d left him. I hoped to heaven he was safe.
The hammering was getting louder.
I continued further into the tomb. “Clifford? Kitty?”
Bark. Bark. Bark.
“Poppy!” My heart leaped into my throat.
“We’re here, Aunt Fiona.” The small voice came from the back of the tomb.
I exhaled an audible sigh. I was never so relieved in my life. Thank goodness. The girl was alive. But what in heaven’s name was she doing?
“Are you alright?” I hurried through the dark tunnel toward her voice.
The hammering stopped.
“It’s ghastly.” It was Clifford. “You’ll never believe it.”
What’s ghastly? Believe what?
I went as fast as the uneven terrain and limited light would allow. “Where are you?”
“We’re here!” The smooth tenor was a balm for my soul.
“Archie?”
What in the blazes were they doing? Had they found a mummy?
“We’re here!” A chorus of voices echoed through the cave, followed by a refrain of barking.
I rounded the corner and there they were. Archie, Clifford, Kitty, and Poppy. Three of them had handkerchiefs tied over their noses and were clawing at a pile of rocks. Tail wagging, Poppy pawed at the rocks, clearly enjoying the dig.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” I clicked off my torch.
Lanterns hung from pegs in either side of the rock wall. Surrounded by loose rocks, they’d managed to open a small passageway. But why?
“That vile smell…” Archie raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid we found the source.” With his charcoal fedora cocked to one side and stripped down to his undershirt and trousers, he looked like an American film star. I averted my eyes from his bare shoulders.
