In the Eye of the Storm

  ‘Hm.’ Taking a yardstick out of his pocket, Mr Ambrose unfolded it and held it against the camel’s hump. The creature gave him another contemptuous look that clearly said, ‘My hump is bigger than your hump, you hairless monkey!’

  Mr Ambrose nodded. ‘I see. An efficient storage method. That is acceptable.’ Snapping the yardstick together, he put it away again. ‘Acquire forty of these creatures for our expedition. Here is the money.’

  He handed Youssef a number of bank notes. The Egyptian’s eyes widened. ‘But… Effendi, this is no more than seven hundred pounds! That would make not even eighteen pounds for every camel!’

  ‘And?’

  The Egyptian almost seemed wounded. ‘Effendi, a camel is not a cheap thing to buy. A good camel is a precious and rare creature. One of these prized companions costs at least twenty-five pounds!’

  ‘Well, we are buying forty of them, aren’t we? They should be easier to produce en masse, so I expect to receive a bulk discount!’

  Youssef rung his hands. ‘But… Effendi! These are not shirts or saucepans produced by machine! These are beautiful and gentle creatures, reared in years of care and-’ He suddenly cut off when he saw Mr Ambrose’s expression, or perhaps I should say expressive lack thereof. Hurriedly, he gave a bow. ‘Yes, Effendi. Bulk discount, Effendi. Of course, I shall do my best.’

  And he disappeared into the crowd, muttering in Arabic.

  With the air of a suffering martyr giving away his life’s blood, Mr Ambrose started distributing more banknotes among some of the other men and instructed them about what to buy and how much to pay for it. The list included everything from water to woollen cloaks.

  ‘Woollen cloaks?’ I asked, stepping nearer as the last man was dismissed, his task before him.

  ‘It can get cold in the desert at night.’

  ‘So you’ve been into the desert before?’

  ‘Not this place.’ He eyed one of the camels distrustfully. ‘I’ve only been to decent deserts, where there were horses to ride, and the provisions were a lot cheaper.’

  I was aching to ask, to squeeze out of him what information I could get about his mysterious past. Normally, he was as tightly closed as an oyster suffering from lockjaw, and I should have used this rare opportunity. But something else struck me that was of more immediate importance.

  ‘You gave your men long lists of things to buy.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But…’ I hesitated for a moment. ‘There was one thing that wasn’t on your lists.’

  ‘Oh, and what was that?’

  ‘Weapons.’ Glancing around at the rifles and knives visible at many of the booths, I lowered my voice in an unusual bout of caution. ‘You told none of them to buy a single weapon.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  I waited for more. Naturally, nothing came but blasted silence!

  ‘Well, what about it?’ I hissed.

  ‘What about what?’

  ‘Weapons! Shouldn’t you have bought some, at least, if we’re going after dangerous bandits?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, really? Do you intend to fight the bandits with your bare hands, then?’

  ‘Certainly not. I intend them to fight them with the weapons we already have.’

  I blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

  He nodded magnanimously. ‘You are excused. You may leave and join Youssef over there, if you wish.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant by “excuse me”, blast you!’ I growled. ‘I want to know what you mean, the weapons we already have. What weapons do you have, except your revolver?’

  ‘Several hundred rifles, a hundred pistols, a wagonload of knives and daggers, and various… surprises.’

  I stared at him, as if trying to find all of the above items hidden somewhere under his tailcoat. ‘Where, in God’s name?’

  He cocked his head, giving me a look so full of cool arrogance it made me envy the camels’ excellent aim with spit. ‘I told you we had to stop by the ship before we embarked on our expedition, didn’t I?’

  Of course!

  ‘Why bring the weapons from England?’ I demanded, stepping closer and lowering my voice even farther. A man to my right was eyeing me in a speculative way I didn’t much like. ‘Why not just buy them here?’

  He shrugged. ‘People would get suspicious.’

  ‘Of someone who wants to buy enough weaponry to outfit a small army? I’ll say! But why didn’t the people who provided you with these weapons back in England get suspicious?’

  ‘When the owner of the weapons factory you work for asks for samples, most people don’t suspect he wants to use them to shoot people.’

  ‘Oh.’ I threw him a look. ‘Weapons, eh? Is there anything you don’t own a factory for?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes.’

  I waited. Nothing came. I wasn’t going to be content with that! For once, he was semi-talking about himself. That was a chance that had to be exploited!

  ‘Well?’ I demanded.

  ‘Well what?’

  I glared at him. ‘Well, what is it? What do you not own a factory for?’

  He considered this for a moment. ‘Potatoes,’ he decided, finally.

  ‘Potatoes are vegetables! They aren’t produced in factories!’

  ‘That would explain why I haven’t got one.’

  All right. Maybe I had been wrong about his being willing to talk. I chose not to dignify his last remark with a response. If I wanted to probe him further, better to wait until the desert sun had thawed him a little, if it was able to manage that.

  ‘Since we are on the subject of purchases…’ A muscle in his jaw twitched reluctantly, and he glanced at me.

  Can it be…?

  Mr Ambrose pulled two more banknotes out of his pocket and handed them to me.

  Yes! Yes, a miracle!

  ‘I suppose you cannot very well ride on a camel in a dress. Purchase something more appropriate to wear.’

  My lips twitched. ‘Appropriate being a synonym for cheap?’

  ‘Keep up this level of insight, and you might just keep your job.’

  Curtsying, I took the notes from him. ‘Always a pleasure to spend your money, Sir.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Or maybe you won’t keep it after al-’

  Before he could finish, I had whirled and vanished into the crowd, two bodyguards trailing after me and a wide grin on my face.

  *~*~**~*~*

  Slowly strolling down the row of booths, I eyed each one closely. Many sold some kind of article of clothing, but I didn’t really see anything that screamed ‘Me!’. Then again, I couldn’t expect any pirate costumes or parasols with spikes at the end at an Egyptian bazaar, could I? Not at any kind of bazaar, truth be told.

  Wandering away from the booths selling clothes, I ambled towards the ones displaying rows of knives and other glittering instruments of death and destruction. Now, those appealed far more to me than the thought of buying a pair of trousers. Mr Ambrose had said he had plenty of weapons already, but I wasn’t sure whether I would be given one, considering the fact of my femaleness.

  Hm… maybe if I showed up in a suitably masculine set of trousers, he would at least let me have a small knife…

  ‘Miss Linton!’

  At the sound of that voice, I whirled around even faster than my two bodyguards.

  Crap, crap, crap! Not he! Not here! Not again!

  But all my silent protests went in vain. There he was: Captain James Carter, tall, red-coated and just as handsome as usual - but not as well in control of himself. His face was deathly pale under his tan, and his mouth was standing open as he stared at me. What was the matter with him?

  He took an involuntary step forward. ‘Good God! Is it really you?’

  I shook my head, pointing upwards. ‘Sorry, no. He lives up there.’

  ‘Bloody hell, it is you! Only you would think of making a joke at a time like this!’

  Crossing the distance between us with a few long strides, he grab
bed me roughly by the shoulders, his hands sliding over me as if to check whether I was really there. I twisted out of his grip. I mean to say! I’m not fastidious about things like this, but he didn’t exactly exhibit the behaviour a lady could expect from a gentleman!

  ‘Captain Carter! Control yourself!’ Stepping away, I raised my parasol threateningly, somewhat taken aback. My thoughts were in disarray. Had I misjudged Captain Carter all this time? Was he, in fact, one of these sinister individuals you read about in papers who dragged innocent girls into dark alleys to slash their throats while laughing mad, cackling laughs? ‘What is the matter with you?’

  ‘With me? Me?’ His eyes bulged. I took another step back, just in case he was going to start cackling madly. ‘It’s I who should be asking that! What happened to you? I came by the Hotel Luxor this morning to visit you, just in case you were still there-’

  Oh crap.

  ‘-and the place was a smoking ruin!’

  ‘Um. Well.’ All right, that might explain his slightly irrational behaviour. If I had been wondering the whole morning whether one of my friends had been torn to bloody bits in a bomb explosion, I’d be a tiny bit surprised to see them strolling down the market, too. ‘I see.’

  ‘I see? What’s that supposed to mean?’ Breathing hard, he stepped towards me again and grasped me by the shoulders, hard. This time, I didn’t twist away. I couldn’t. Gazing up into his brown eyes, normally so cheerful, I could see they were filled with genuine concern. Maybe even with something more. ‘How on earth did you get out of there unharmed? And your grandmother…’

  ‘She’s fine. We’re both perfectly fine.’

  ‘How?’ he demanded, his hands still clutching my shoulders too tightly. Strangely, I didn’t mind.

  Oh, it wasn’t that hard. We were escorted out by three dozen guards in the employ of my pseudo-husband.

  ‘Well…’ My brain scrambled for the easiest lie. ‘Um… we… we weren’t there when it happened. We were out, shopping for… fans. You know, because the weather is so terribly hot here.’

  ‘Thank the Lord!’ He let out a breath of relief and moved to enfold me in his arms - then realized what he was doing, stepping back a step, a slight tinge of colour in his cheeks. ‘My pardon, Miss Linton. I was overcome at the joy of seeing you well.’

  ‘Err… I’m flattered.’

  And also very, very, very glad he had remembered himself before actually hugging me. If he had come that close, I think I wouldn’t just have been flattered, but he would have been flattened. My bodyguards were staring daggers at him already.

  ‘So… you’ve found a safe place to stay, Miss Linton?’

  ‘Yes, Captain. My grandmother and I are perfectly safe, thank you. We’re staying at a nice little hotel near the Nile and I’m just out on another shopping trip.’

  Captain Carter smiled - then his eyes fell on the products of the booth beside me, and his smile became a bit strained. ‘Um… you are, are you?’

  Lowering my gaze, I looked at the impressive array of curved daggers in front of me. Some had ivory handles, some ones made from wood. Some were just slightly curved, others shaped in a snake-like pattern. But all had two things in common: a wickedly sharp edge and a deadly point at the end.

  Ooops…

  Quickly, my gaze darted around to the other booths, looking for a suitable product for a lady to buy. What I found were several dozen muskets, about ten rifles, one with a suspicious-looking dark red stain on the barrel, and hundreds more daggers and sabres.

  ‘Ehem… well… Dear me. A minute ago I was looking at perfumes and handkerchiefs. I must have lost my way a bit.’

  That excuse is really wearing a bit thin. Why don’t you think of something new, for a change?

  ‘Should I escort you back to the hotel again?’ Captain Carter offered, his eyes returning to my face and staying there, the weapons forgotten.

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ a thickly accented voice said from behind me. I winced. Captain Carter’s eyes flicked to the man who had spoken. For the first time, he seemed to notice the two large Arabs with their curved sabres, standing behind me like bodyguards. Which was, after all, exactly what they were.

  ‘And who are you, pray?’ he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  ‘They’re men my grandmother hired to protect me,’ I hurriedly constructed another ramshackle lie. ‘She, um… knows a few people whom nobody wants to cross.’

  ‘Your grandmother?’ The captain’s eyebrows shot up, no doubt thinking of the deaf little old lady he had met a few days ago. He eyed the bulks of my dark-skinned bodyguards again. ‘Um… an impressive old lady. I wouldn’t have thought she’d have it in her.’

  ‘She has hidden depths,’ I assured him solemnly. ‘And very powerful contacts. There’s not a man in Alexandria who would dare to bring her wrath down on him.’

  He eyed the bodyguards again. ‘I can readily believe that. At any rate, I’m glad to hear that you’re both well.’

  ‘Indeed we are.’

  ‘So… do you know what it was all about? The explosion and the fighting at the Luxor, I mean. Do you have any idea who was behind it?’

  Oh yes, certainly. Lord Daniel Eugene Dalgliesh, Peer of the Realm of Great Britain and Ireland, Member of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, resident at East India House, Leadenhall Street, London. It’s wonderful to have all-powerful enemies, isn’t it?

  ‘None at all, I’m afraid, Captain.’

  ‘Strange… very strange…’ For a moment, he looked troubled, thoughtfully stroking the speck of beard on his chin. Then he shrugged. ‘Well, as long as you are unharmed - that is all that matters.’

  ‘Yes.’ Inside, I breathed a sigh of relief. The difficult part of the conversation seemed to be over. ‘Enough about boring old me, Captain. How are things going with you? Was the man you were going to question as informative as you hoped?’

  Regretfully, he shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, no. I don’t know what was the matter with him. When I arrived at Dark Nights of Delight, he was red in the face and shouting at his subordinates at the top of his voice about some fellow named Thomson. When I tried to approach him about the subject of the bandits, he cursed at me and ordered his men to chase me out of the building.’

  I coughed delicately. ‘Fancy that.’

  ‘I imagine someone must have angered him for some reason, just before I arrived - maybe this Thomson. In any case, he wasn’t very informative and, for some reason, neither were the other informants I have been able to find. They all seemed a little on edge.’

  Probably a residue left over from our visit a day or two earlier.

  ‘Strange. Very strange indeed.’

  ‘Now there’s nothing to do but to head out into the desert and find the bandits by good old tracking and searching,’ he sighed, gazing around the bazaar. ‘That’s why I’m here, in fact, I and a few of my men. We have to buy supplies and camels for our journey into the desert.’

  ‘No! Camels?’ My eyes became huge with fake surprise. ‘You can buy those creatures here in the bazaar, too? I never knew!’

  ‘Yes, but don’t get too close to one. They spit.’

  ‘You don’t say!’

  From the distance, we heard someone shouting Captain Carter’s name. Turning, we saw a young sergeant waving his hat above the crowd, pointing to a particularly disagreeable camel tethered right beside him.

  ‘Sir! Captain Carter, Sir, I’ve found one for you!’

  The captain sighed. ‘Well, duty calls, Miss Linton. I’m going to have to leave, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, that’s perfectly all right, Captain! You go back to your duties, and the best of luck to you. And to your French and Egyptian comrades, too.’ The corner of my mouth twitched. ‘Make the world a safer place for helpless maidens such as myself, will you?’

  His eyes strayed to the two bulky guards behind me, their hands on their sabres, and his lips twitched, too. ‘I’m not sure whether young maidens nowadays are quit
e as helpless as sometimes assumed. Au revoir, Miss Linton.’

  And with a bow, he vanished into the crowd.

  Breathing another sigh of relief, I turned back to the nearest booth. Behind it, a Bedouin man with a big dagger at his belt and an equally big paunch behind the belt, looked uncertainly from me to his deadly wares.

  ‘You would, um, be interested in my wares, Hanem?’

  ‘Depends. How much is one of those?’ I pointed to a wickedly sharp dagger, at least as long as my forearm. The trader’s eyes widened.

  ‘Um… perhaps you’d find something more appropriate at another stall, Hanem,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe a trinket, or a nice lace handkerchief?’

  I was just about to shoot him a dark glare when I noticed something right behind him. On a peg sticking from one of the posts of the stall hung a long, bright white garment. My eyes lit up. I was supposed to find something to wear, wasn’t I? Well… maybe I had found just the right thing.

  ‘Forget about the dagger. How much is that?’ I pointed to the unconventional piece of clothing.

  ‘What?’ The man’s eyes widened even more. ‘This is not a clothes booth, Hanem!’

  ‘How much would you ask for it?’

  The trader drew himself to his full height, width and breadth. ‘That garment belongs to my wife’s grandfather, Hanem! It is absolutely non-saleable!’

  ‘Now then, now then… what seems to be the matter here?’ A woman peaked her head out from the back of the stall. ‘Fazl, what are you doing? Are you scaring off the customers again?’

  ‘Scaring off the customers?’ the man demanded, his belly wobbling in outrage. ‘Do you know what this young woman wants, Abda? She wants to buy your grandfather’s thobe!’

  ‘She does, does she?’ Abda asked, stepping out of the shadows and up beside her husband. Her sharp, intelligent eyes landed on me.

  ‘Yes. Of course, I told her it’s not for sale.’

  Quickly, the wife’s eyes shifted to her husband, narrowing. ‘You did, did you?’