Desert Rogue (35 page)

“Fatima, this gentleman wants to ask you about Jed Kincaid.”

“That cursed infidel?” his bride of two years asked. “I have no words for a dog such as he.”

Coming forward to confront the constable, Fatima was the very picture of righteous indignation. Though only her dark eyes were visible above the veil, her body was tense, her steps quick.

“May Allah steal his sight and leave him a blind beggar to live and die in the streets, drooled upon by the mongrels with whom he lies.”

“Then the man has not been back and your husband has had no contact with Kincaid since he dishonored you?” He thought it highly unlikely, but it did not hurt to inquire. After all, the sprightly Fatima would be well worth fighting battles for, the constable mused.

“If my husband even
spoke
of that fiend again, I would leave him and return to my father's house,” Fatima said simply.

The policeman's eyes flickered briefly to the old woman near the window, apparently oblivious to their conversation. Stooped in the chair, her body appeared misshapen, but that might have been the effect of the shadowy candlelight. With her face hidden by her veil and a shawl draped over her head and shoulders, she seemed more an object of pity than a living being.

“My mother is visiting us while my father conducts his business in Alexandria,” explained Fatima, noticing his interest. “I assure you just as I care for her, she and my father would gladly take me in if ever my husband were unfaithful to me or my wishes.”

“Unfaithful? Never, ever would I dream of such a thing,” cried Ali, his voice convincingly agitated at what the constable might choose to reveal about their first meeting. “I am as loyal to my bride as this officer is to his wife.”

“Yes,” agreed the man, slapping Ali soundly on the back. “Anyone can see your husband is a man much like me. I regret having disturbed you. Good night.”

Before Ali believed it possible, they were safe. He latched the door behind the constable and his men and leaned against it, drawing the first relaxed breaths since Jed had arrived.

“Fatima, you are wonderful,” he praised, sweeping her into an enthusiastic embrace as she and Jed joined him. “And you are so clever to have thought of such a deception.”

“It was nothing, husband,” she replied modestly. “Jed, what will you do now?”

“I'm not sure. I can't help but feel that Reed is the key. True, he dislikes me for my attentions to Vicky, but the dervishes did speak of an Englishman in Cairo, and so did the men in the
medina—
”

“Wouldn't that have been the man who was killed?”

“No, he was Egyptian. Besides, his job was merely to guard the guns while they were in storage. Someone higher up had to coordinate the weapons' arrival and transport. Someone hungry for power and greedy enough for money to take the risks—”

“I suspect Reed, myself,” said Ali. “But would he dare do it?”

“I think he would,” confirmed the American.

“How can you prove it? Since he already has the police combing Cairo for you, it would not be difficult for him to arrange your disappearance before you can confront him.”

“No, I might show up half dead and totally disgraced, but I'd never disappear. The bastard will want Vicky to admit she was wrong for being attracted to me, a common thief and murderer. He could never let her dream of my returning and clearing my name.”

“If you like, I could try to reach the woman for you,” offered Fatima. “You could go away together.”

“Thank you, but I must see this out to the end. Besides, at this late hour, she and Reed are probably already eating dinner at Lady Trenton's,” said Jed, looking at his watch. “But while Reed is busy, this particular fugitive is going to go through his office. Maybe I can find something to substantiate our suspicions.”

“Will you be safe?” asked a worried Fatima. “Ali could go with you.”

For a moment, Jed hesitated, aware of the trust the couple placed in him. Another set of eyes and ears, even as a lookout, might prove damned valuable. But it would be risky.

“We began this together, Jed. We should end it the same way,” said Ali, sensing his friend's reluctance. “I want to come.”

“And you shall. Thank you,” Jed replied, clasping a hand on the Egyptian's shoulder. “I've no friend truer than you.”

Ali nodded briefly, embarrassed by the sentiment.

“You will do better wearing this,” interrupted Fatima, handing Jed one of Ali's
gallabiyas.
“I doubt those woman's clothes would be any less conspicuous than your Anglo garments.”

“A woman beyond compare,” admired Ali, squeezing his wife's hand. “My Fatima is a treasure without price.”

“So you told us repeatedly in the desert,” Jed called as he stepped into the shop to change clothes. “I am sorry if I ever doubted you. I do not now.”

Then, all too quickly, they were out on the street, en route to Hayden's government office.

V
ictoria stood conversing with one of the other guests, fighting the urge to peer past her companion and into the ornate central hallway to see if Jed had arrived. The evening was growing late, and surely dinner would be announced shortly. These days, it was unlike Jed not to be punctual, and Victoria could hear only too well the comments Hayden would make if the man who had rescued her failed to appear before everyone went in to dinner.

An unwelcome thought suddenly flashed through Victoria's mind, disturbing her greatly. What if an impatient Jed had finally given up his pursuit of her and had moved on from Cairo? A sensation of wretchedness washed over her at the possibility, and she tried to combat it by assuring herself that there was a very logical and acceptable reason for Jed's tardiness. Exactly what that was, however, she couldn't begin to guess.

In the midst of her anxiety, Victoria was aware of one small consolation. At least she wouldn't have to deal with Hayden's increasing moodiness as well as her uncertainty about Jed. This evening, the diplomat was in a better humor than he had been of late. Her glance fell upon a flawlessly attired Hayden as he stood on the other side of the elegantly furnished room, twirling a glass of sherry between his thumb and forefinger and conversing with her mother and their hostess.

Sensing that he was the object of her perusal, Hayden raised his eyes to hers and saluted her with his glass. His smile was so full of genuine happiness that it was quite dazzling, effectively eclipsing the calculating coldness that had turned his blue eyes into veritable chips of glacial ice. Though Victoria wondered at his cheerfulness, she had no cause for alarm, until Lady Trenton stepped forward to claim everyone's attention.

“I must apologize for the delay of our evening meal,” she began, with warmth and graciousness. “However, I find myself waiting for the arrival of one other guest, and it would be a shame to be seated and start without him if it can be avoided.”

“Who's the person responsible for my starvation?” a retired army officer demanded with a good-natured laugh.

“That charming but naughty Mr. Kincaid,” Lady Trenton replied with a rueful smile. “I assure you I will quite take him to task for keeping you from your meal, Colonel, but perhaps another glass of sherry would be acceptable while we linger just a few moments more.”

“Go ahead, Colonel, indulge yourself,” a smiling Cameron Shaw interjected soothingly. “I promise you'll find Kincaid interesting enough to forgive him.”

“But there's no need to keep dinner if it is Kincaid who is delaying things,” Hayden announced, a satisfied smile ringing his mouth. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” Victoria asked nervously.

“He won't be here this evening,” Hayden said, managing a certain degree of nonchalance in spite of the excitement he felt.

“Not coming?” asked Cameron Shaw with a frown. “If that were the case, Kincaid would have sent his regrets.”

“If he were a gentleman, he might. But then, to be fair, I suppose even a gentleman might have difficulty penning a note under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Victoria demanded, a handful of graceful steps bringing her to Hayden's side.

“Why, being arrested, of course,” Hayden drawled insolently. “I just surmised everyone would be aware of it by now, especially with the way news travels in our little community.”

“Arrested!” Victoria's mother said, her shocked voice no louder than a whisper. “Whatever for? Was he caught dallying with someone's wife or daughter?”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Hayden assured her, ignoring Victoria's silent plea as he used the backs of his fingertips to needlessly smooth the lapel of his dinner jacket. “He's been taken into custody for murder, though there's more to it besides even that vile crime.”

Victoria saw the room beginning to sway and everything turning hazy as she fought against the black cloud threatening to descend upon her. With sheer force of will, she managed to overcome the urge to faint, though she could not restrain herself from reaching out for her father's steadying hands.

“If any of this is true, and I have my doubts, why did you keep the information to yourself?” Cameron demanded. “It was hardly the right thing to do blurting it out like that in the presence of the ladies.”

“But I assumed everyone had heard and was just too well-bred to speak of it before we dined,” Hayden asserted innocently. “Lady Trenton's announcement of waiting dinner for the scoundrel took me by surprise, and when I could find my voice, I spoke without thinking. My apologies to the ladies.”

“None of this is true, none of it,” Victoria insisted. Her complexion, despite her weeks in the sun, had turned as pale as the ecru organza gown she wore. Still, she faced Hayden squarely and refused to be quelled by his look of icy disdain.

“I am sorry to say, my dear, that it is,” he replied with an expression of sympathy that belied the triumph in his heart. The Shaw bitch deserved this and more for playing him false with the crude American. “I know you feel you owe Kincaid something. But you are completely misguided. In my opinion, he never rescued you at all.”

“He most certainly did,” cried Victoria. “He traveled down to Khartoum and blew up a great deal of the city in order to secure my safety.”

“My dear, my dear, think about what it is you're saying,” Hayden chided her. “No law-abiding man would have been able to reach you, never mind get you safely away from that devil's den where you were being held. It was only possible for Kincaid to do so because he had contacts in Khartoum, people he knew from his gunrunning operation. In fact, I shouldn't be surprised to find the whole thing had been staged simply to allow him entry into another, higher level of society where he might glean more information about exactly what the British government knew concerning his illegal activities. And your father helped him do just that,” Hayden added with a reproving glance in the banker's direction.

“But you told me there was no foundation to rumors about gun smuggling,” Victoria insisted.

“I couldn't speak the truth, my darling,” Hayden responded, taking Victoria's hand and pressing it within his own before she snatched it away again. “How could I gamble on Kincaid learning just how closely we had him under surveillance?”

“I thought you said he was arrested for murder,” the Colonel objected, forgetting his grumbling stomach in all the excitement. The knowledge that he'd be able to dine out for weeks afterward on the story that was unfolding in Lady Trenton's drawing room assuaged his hunger enough for him to want to learn every available detail.

“Yes, he was,” Hayden said. “As the authorities drew nearer to arresting him, he began to suspect as much. Unaware we had already gathered evidence linking him to the unlawful transport of guns to the Sudan, shipments coinciding with his stays in Cairo I might add, he thought that he could keep his name out of this by simply murdering his confederate. But he only dug himself in deeper when we went to question the watchman and found the poor fellow's body along with Kincaid's rifle.”

“A watchman, you say. What was his connection?” Victoria's father asked.

“He allowed the guns to be stored in his warehouse until they could be shipped out,” Hayden said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“And which warehouse was this?” Shaw inquired, trying to reconcile what Reed had to say with his own perceptions of the American.

“Embarrassed as I am to admit this,” Hayden began, knowing that at least a kernel of truth had to be included in his fabrication if he wanted it to appear truthful, “the blackguard was storing his weapons in the same warehouse that the consulate uses for its supplies.”

“A rather stupid tactical error,” the Colonel commented dryly.

“It was a bold move that would have been brilliant had it not been for our present investigation,” Hayden lied deftly. “We would never have thought to look under our own noses for such unlawful goings-on.”

“But Jed was the one who pressed for the consulate to delve into the matter,” Victoria protested. “Why would he do that if he were in any way involved?”

“I don't know. Maybe he wanted to get out of the smuggling ring and couldn't. Or perhaps he fed us false information in an attempt to put himself above suspicion and send us off on the wrong track. As it was, I certainly found no use for any of the details with which he provided us. I can assure you, however, the police will be able to obtain all the specifics. They have methods for dealing with even the most recalcitrant of criminals, and they will not be shy about employing them. As for anything else I can tell you, it would merely be conjecture at this time.”

“Surely you have some idea what will happen to Kincaid now,” Cameron Shaw prompted in his most commanding voice.

“There'll—there'll be a trial of course,” Hayden blustered.

“Just so long as there is,” Shaw stated, his words echoing the thoughts of all. Everyone had heard of the terrible conditions and strange fates that sometimes befell those held in the khedive's prisons. “I'll go and see Kincaid myself tomorrow.”

“Well, well, this has been a most fascinating evening,” Lady Trenton interrupted, trying to salvage something of her dinner party. “All of the excitement must have sharpened everyone's appetite. I propose we continue this discussion over dinner.”

“If you'll forgive me, I'm afraid I have no desire for food,” Victoria said wanly.

“But, my dear—”

“Excuse me, your ladyship. There is someone to see Mr. Reed,” the butler announced. “I believe he said he was the chief constable.”

“Send him in,” the noblewoman ordered, wanting this business conducted out in the open so she could put it to an end. Then, perhaps everyone could sit down to a glass of fine wine and the elaborate meal she had so carefully planned.

As he waited for the constable to make his appearance, Hayden wondered if the police had done away with Kincaid already. Wanting to see Victoria's expression upon hearing such news constrained him from speaking with the Egyptian officer privately. By God, he was so happy, he could be dining on camel tonight and he would think it the most enjoyable meal he had ever tasted.

“Mr. Reed,” the officer called in worried greeting as he crossed the threshold into a room so richly decorated he had never seen its like.

“Yes, what is it?” Hayden inquired officiously, unable to keep from casting a look in Victoria's direction.

“In the matter of the American, Jed Kincaid, I am afraid I must inform you that—”

“Dear God!” Victoria whispered, clutching her father when she found herself unable to bear the thought of any more bad news.

“Yes,” Hayden prompted, impatient for the news of the American's death.

“He has escaped.”

“What!”

Victoria was conscious of no more than hearing Hayden Reed roar his anger as she slid toward the floor, the darkness that had loomed finally enveloping her and blocking out all else.

* * *

Jed stepped stealthily along the shadows flanking the ornate hallway, flattening himself against the wall wherever the soft glow of the sporadically placed lamps penetrated the murky darkness. He had stationed Ali outside with strict instructions to alert him if trouble arose.

A half grin etched itself across the American's otherwise serious face. His experience at moving undetected had begun in his youth, when he used to creep out of his mother and stepfather's house late at night. Little had he known at the time he had been honing a skill that would be useful in his chosen career. But none of his other adventures was as significant as the one in which he now found himself.

A man to whom danger was a way of life, Jed nevertheless found his heart beating rapidly as he stood stone still, hardly daring to breathe until he was satisfied no one was nearby. To be found here, in the British Consulate, would mean his capture. And he couldn't afford to be taken now, for Vicky's sake as well as his own.

After his talk with Ali, he was positive he had solved the mystery that had woven itself around him like some confining cocoon. But whom could he alert when the man he believed to be involved was, in Malet's and Cookson's absence, the very person to whom such suspicions were to be reported? What would persuade the authorities to go counter to Hayden Reed's orders? Somewhere in Hayden's office there had to exist evidence that tied him to the warehouse and the dead watchman.

Taking a slender pick supplied by Ali, Jed silently attacked the lock that kept the world from Hayden's door. With a few deft movements, he breached Reed's meager security, slipped through the anteroom and entered the Englishman's official sanctum. Here the darkness was pierced by a sole shaft of moonlight stealing into the room through a chink in the closed wooden shutters.

Noiselessly, he stole across the floor to Hayden's desk where he lit the oil lamp he had seen so many weeks before. With an expedience born of experience, Jed shaded most of the light emitted by the lamp with his hand, directing its beam onto the top of Hayden's desk.

Shuffling though papers, Jed assumed Hayden would be too clever to leave anything lying about that would provide hard and fast evidence of his illicit activities. Yet he fervently prayed that somewhere there would be a clue that would strip away his blindness, so that he could see a possible link between the minor British official and the rebel Sudanese.

Stacks of paper neatly aligned along the desk's surface produced nothing more than directives sent to Hayden by his superiors, Cookson and Malet. In a drawer Jed found files for the promotion of several consulate personnel as well as transfer requests and documents validating future postings. Nothing connected with Reed's duties seemed to reach beyond the building in which his office was located. With sagging hopes, Jed learned that another drawer yielded only a stack of announcements proclaiming Reed's recent change of residence.