The Eye of Midnight (9 page)

“Get down!” hissed a voice.

The unseen stranger yanked them back into their hiding place, where the cousins lay motionless, petrified with fright.

“Who are you?” gasped William.

“Where is Colonel Battersea?” came the reply.

The timbre of the voice startled William as much as Grandpa's name.

“It's just a kid,” he whispered. “A girl!”

“I am meeting Horatius Battersea here tonight,” said the girl, speaking the words with a careful accent that leaned hard on every syllable. “Where is he?”

“Are you the courier?” asked Maxine.

“I came with a package,” said the girl. “I seek Colonel Battersea's protection. My name is Nura.”

The three children scrambled out of the brush and retreated from the Needle, staying in the shadows and off the paths.

“The man at the obelisk—who was he?” asked William, breathing hard.

“He belongs to the Hashashin,” answered Nura. “They are the enemy—the servants of the Old Man of the Mountain.”

The cousins' faces were blank.

“The Old Man is the author of bloodshed,” said Nura, “the king of all the sons of pride. His eye and his blade reach everywhere.”

She walked quickly and offered no further explanation, leading them down a wide gully that wound through a thick stand of elms. They emerged in a remote quarter of the park, behind a small, shingled pavilion, and there, in the light of a solitary streetlamp, the cousins finally came face to face with their new companion.

The girl's skin was the color of oiled teak; her lashes were long and thick, her teeth uneven but pearly white. She wore a checked shawl over her smooth dark hair, and a coarse brown dress that brushed the ground. Across her shoulder she carried a canvas haversack. Her face was solemn, and although she was slight and seemed rather breakable, she set her jaw and met their eyes directly.

“Where are you from?” asked William.

“How'd you find us?” Maxine added.

“Do you have the package?” they both said at once.

Nura only shook her head at them and asked, “Where is Colonel Battersea?”

“Not here,” replied Maxine coolly. “He sent Will and me.”

The two girls eyed each other with suspicion.

“You can trust us—honest,” said William. “Colonel Battersea is our granddad.”

At this Nura's brows lifted slightly.

“If you give us the package, we can take it to him for you,” William added.

“You're the courier, right?” said Maxine, watching the tight-lipped girl carefully. “You
do
have a package for us?”

Nura's defiance faltered, and she looked away. “I had it,” she replied. “The parcel was lost.”

“You mean you lost it. How clever of you.” It was a petty, mean-spirited thing to say, but Maxine couldn't help herself.

“I carried the parcel safely for six thousand miles,” said Nura with a glare, “on horseback and on foot, by camel and by ship. No harm came to it. Only here at the end of my journey was it snatched from my hand.” She turned away to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“Aw, don't pay any attention to Maxine,” said William. “She's pretty much a world champion when it comes to making people feel small.”

He thought for a moment. “How old are you, anyways?” he asked.

“Twelve.”

“And you traveled six thousand miles to get here?” he said with a low whistle. “So what happened? With the package, I mean.”

Nura shut her mouth and said nothing, but the cousins' stares were so steady and expectant that finally she shook her head and sighed.

“A month ago I left my home in Turkey with the parcel,” she said.

“Were you alone?”

“Who sent you?”

Nura halted and gave them a stinging look that made it clear she would suffer no further interruptions.

“I left home and traveled the desert road over many hills and plains and came to the coast, to the house of a friend of my father's. I rested there, and then the man put me on a ship bound for America. For two weeks I never left my berth, except for necessities. I made myself
gorunmeyen
—invisible. The package I kept with me always, as I was afraid for it, and there was no knowing which of the passengers might be the enemy. For the length of the voyage I spoke to no one.

“Then, two days ago, I arrived here in New York and met disaster. I left the ship. There were long lines, hundreds of people, men asking questions and stamping papers. When it was all over, my feet and my head ached, and I sat down on a bench to rest. My long journey had left me weary, and I was careless.

“The package was in a leather satchel that I carried over my shoulder. I took it off and placed it by my side. A man sat down next to me on the bench. He wore a white hat and white clothes that were not fitting, and I didn't care to look at him—he was like a sneaking animal. But for some reason, I don't know why, I only pulled the bag closer to me and closed my eyes to rest. That was my ruin.”

Nura's voice cracked, and she paused, resenting the memory.

“The man tore the bag from my arms and ran down the street, clutching his hat to his head. I was crying out, ‘Stop!' but the people all around just moved out of his way, staring like sheep.”

“Was he the enemy?” asked William. “Hashashin?”

Nura shook her head impatiently. “Impossible. He was clumsy and stupid—a common thief.”

“So why didn't you go to the police?” William asked.

“I found a policeman, yes.” Nura nodded. “He laughed and told me to forget the package. He said it was hopeless. He said I would never see my bag or the thief again.”

“Well, of course not,” replied Maxine. “The police aren't going to search the whole city for one bag belonging to a little gir—”

“But I
did
see the thief again,” interrupted Nura, and her eyes flashed. “I went back this morning to the place where the bag was taken. He was wandering the harbor in the same white suit and hat, like a rat scratching in his favorite garbage heap. But what could I do against a grown man? He sneered when he saw me. I ran to try to find a policeman again, but when I am returning, the White Rat is gone.” Nura paused, and her lip trembled. “I came to the Needle, even though I had nothing to deliver, because I was thinking maybe Colonel Battersea could help me. I saw you then,” she said at length. “I watched you reach the circle and hide in the bushes. I waited, wondering who you were. I had decided to come to you, but then the Hashashin stepped into the circle.”

“I thought we were goners for sure.” William nodded.

Nura smiled for the first time. She pursed her lips and repeated the shrill warble.

“That was you?” William said. “It sounded like some kind of strange bird.”

“It is a signal used by the Hashashin,” Nura replied.

The cousins blinked in surprise, regarding the girl with a mixture of respect and reservation.

“When you found us, what made you so sure we weren't Hashashin, too?” asked Maxine.

“The enemy takes many forms,” said Nura, “but I did not think two children hiding in a bush were cause for fear.”

“Oh no?” snapped Maxine. “Well, you were plenty afraid of something. What's so precious about this package of yours, anyhow?”

Nura raised an eyebrow. “You told me Colonel Battersea sent you to collect it,” she said cautiously, “and yet you don't know what it contains?”

Her hand went to a blue stone that she wore at her throat—a flat glass disk with concentric blue circles that looked like a staring eye—and she shook her head and would speak no further.

“Maybe we should get out of the city,” Maxine whispered to William. “If we hurry, we might catch the last train.”

Behind her Nura's mouth tightened in a thin, obstinate line. “We cannot leave without the package,” she said.

William looked back and forth between the two girls, wondering which of them to listen to. “I wish Grandpa were here,” he said. “He'd know what to do.”