Blue Damask Read online

“Why won’t you let me in?”

  Marshall’s face fell. He nodded reluctantly and gave her a slight bow, moving out of the doorway.

  She stood in the sitting area and looked at the carnage. Everything had been disturbed. Chairs were lying on their sides. The sideboard had been overturned. Clothing was strewn about as each of Sonnenby’s pieces of luggage had been opened and dispersed. This wasn’t a simple search. Someone was very angry to have made the extra effort to toss things about. Perhaps angry that they had not found anything.

  She turned to Marshall. “Did he do this?”

  He shook his head. “No, but he came running back from his visit with you to find his room like this.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Davies is chasing him down.”

  She wandered among the dark trousers and white shirts on the floor. Ties and garters hung from the legs of the overturned chairs. She felt a little faint. Whoever was bent on killing Lord Sonnenby was here on the boat with them. Marshall knew this too. His face was pale behind the ever-present stiff upper lip. She met his eyes. “Chasing him? He ran out of the room? Were you here?”

  Marshall tilted his head toward a door. “We have adjoining staterooms. When I heard the noise in here I opened the door and surprised the man as he was going through the luggage. Lord Sonnenby arrived moments later and took off after him with Davies in tow. I have alerted the captain.”

  Elsa imagined the chase through the many decks and down miles of corridors. It would either end quickly or not at all. There were too many places to hide, places to lose a pursuer. She asked, “Did you get a good look at him?”

  Marshall nodded. “Dressed in uniform like the staff.”

  “They will not find him, then. He would blend in just by standing still and bowing.” She thought about the steward who brought her to Sonnenby’s room.

  “The captain will have a roll call performed and any hastily discarded uniforms will be brought to my attention.”

  She wanted to sit down; she picked up a chair and righted it. Marshall did the same. They sat in silence, reflecting on this new twist as Davies marched into the room with Sonnenby by the arm. She rose from her chair.

  “Thank God you are here, Miss.” He led Sonnenby to her and sat him in the chair she had just vacated. “Look at him.”

  She did. He had a faraway look in his eyes. She waved a hand in his face. Nothing.

  Davies explained, “He just stopped running when he got to the stern rail. He stood there leaning on it watching the churn in the water and then collapsed.”

  “Collapsed?” She encouraged Davies to continue as she bent to look closer at Sonnenby’s face. He was sweating and his eyes were vacant. There was no need to take his pulse, she could see it throbbing on the side of his neck and across his forehead. She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to her side so his head rested against her hip. He was as pliable as rope.

  “Right to the deck, Miss. Fainted dead away.”

  “How long was he unconscious?”

  “Not more than a few minutes. Another passenger splashed a drink in his face and I loosened his collar. He opened his eyes. But he didn’t see. He didn’t speak either. Like that night on the train.”

  Marshall closed the door and came back to them. He knelt so he was eye level with Sonnenby. “Henry,” he said.

  Sonnenby did not move.

  “Get him a scotch, Davies.” Marshall patted Sonnenby’s cheek. “Wake up, Henry.”

  “That is unlikely to help, Mr. Marshall,” she informed him.

  “What do you suggest?” His tone told her he honestly hoped for an answer. He got to his feet.

  “Catatonia is not helped by anything except an injection. Usually the patient recovers on his own, or does not.”

  Davies returned with a short glass of amber fluid. He stretched his arm toward Sonnenby’s mouth.

  Elsa stopped him. “He will choke on that, Davies.”

  “It helped once before, Miss.”

  She thought about that for a moment then took the glass from him and held it under Sonnenby’s nose. He blinked and took it from her. He tossed his head back and the scotch disappeared. He shook his head then and sputtered, “God’s blood,” he gasped. “Don’t ever give me anything younger than fifteen years.”

  She squeezed his shoulder. “What happened?”

  Marshall stood before him and echoed her, “What happened?”

  Sonnenby took two deep breaths and handed the empty glass back to Davies. “The good stuff this time from my baggage,” he warned. “Not the ship’s.” To Elsa he said, “You are asking about the fit.” To Marshall he said, “You are asking me about the intruder.” He leaned back in the chair as Davies put another glass of scotch in his hand. “Give me a moment and I will answer you both.”

  He drained the second glass with closed eyes. “Better, Davies. I can’t tell you exactly what happened, Elsa. I was chasing this man and then everything went black. I have a vague memory of swirling heights and a long fall.” He opened his eyes and she knew he was telling the truth. “It is your job to tell me what happens when I have these fits, Fraulein Doctor.” He flicked his eyes to Marshall. “I lost him on the promenade.”

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

  “Only if I saw him running from behind,” he answered dryly.

  “Can you get up? Are you recovered? I want you to tell me if anything is missing.” Marshall looked around the room.

  Sonnenby made to get up but Elsa pushed him down. He looked up at her.

  “I say he rests a bit longer, Mr. Marshall.”

  Marshall nodded as if he had expected that answer. “I packed most of your luggage myself, Lord Sonnenby. I can’t for the life of me think of what he was looking for.” He bent over the small side table. “It looks like he went through your cuff links and tie tacks and clips. He didn’t take any off them. The cuff links are gold. I wonder what he was looking for.”

  “I have an idea. I thought of it when I was in Miss Schluss’ cabin.” Sonnenby staggered when he stood from the chair and it wobbled from the weight as he leaned on it. Elsa could not tell if he wobbled from the scotch or from his recent exertion. She reached for him. He stopped her with a hand. “You could not catch me if I fell.” To Marshall he said. “He did not find it in my luggage.” He opened one of the smaller leather cases to show them a signet ring he kept in a small box.

  “I don’t dare wear this on my finger, and besides it is too small for my hands.” He lifted the ring and tilted it so they could see the raised coat of arms on the flat surface. “I received this upon my father’s death,” he told them. “It thought it was merely a keepsake remnant of another time and tossed it in my dressing case. Later when my father’s solicitor visited me with the endless papers to sign he asked about it. I showed it to him and he opened it for me like this,” Sonnenby flicked a thumbnail across the surface and the ring opened on a tiny hinge. Inside was an empty compartment the width of his finger in size. “It is empty now, but my father kept a key in here.”

  “Not much of a key,” Elsa said. “You could hardly hold it in your fingers.”

  “No, not a key to a lock, but a cipher key.”

  “Why would someone in Damascus want a cipher key from your father? And why would you have to die to provide it?” She asked him.

  “I think those are two separate issues,” Marshall said. “The cipher is for what purpose, Lord Sonnenby?”

  “The combination to his safe. Back in his office in London.”

  “The solicitor was unable to open it?”

  “Right. He came to me to get the cipher from the ring. It was empty as it is now. He is the one who told me of its significance.”

  “I see.” Marshall began to pace the sitting room. Davies worked at righting all the furniture and picking up the discarded clothing.

  “So someone would track you down to get the safe combination,” Elsa offered. “But Marshall is right. Killi
ng you does not get them the cipher key. Killing you prevents you from performing in Damascus. Any thief could steal a ring. Any workman can drill a safe. Why hasn’t it been forced open?”

  “Oh, I am certain it has been opened. Someone had already taken the cipher key. Someone made sure that I, personally, would not have access to the safe”

  “Then why would someone come looking for your cipher?”

  “Exactly. It had to be someone who didn’t know it was already missing.”

  “No. I think he was looking for something else,” Marshall picked up Sonnenby’s shaving kit.

  “What did your father keep in that safe?” Elsa asked.

  Sonnenby shrugged. “The solicitor made it sound like it was just documents. No cash or jewels or the like. Father kept mother’s jewels in the safe at home and his money in the bank. When he was in London he had no need of large amounts of cash. Expenses were paid out on account. The solicitor told me that the shareholders were in disagreement about the running of the company without my father. He may have died with some secrets.” His face told her he knew for a fact that his father had died with some secrets. His lips thinned and his jaw tightened. One cheek twitched. “I think the safe was full of stock certificates.”

  Elsa tried to divert his thoughts. “How do you feel now? I think you should lie down and rest. This has been quite a shock.”

  “I agree.” Marshall stood at the port looking out to sea. “Rest until dinner.”

  Davies bent down and picked up a small object. “This didn’t come from your luggage, sir.”

  They bent their heads over the small object in Davies’ hand. It looked like a dead mouse, but after Davies held it up closer to the light they could see it was a small leather purse, hair on the outside and thin leather laces tied it together.

  “Good God, what the hell is that?” Marshall moved his hand as though to take it, but Sonnenby snatched it from Davies.

  “It is a charm.”

  “Bloody disgusting if you ask me,” Davies said.

  Sonnenby squeezed the little bag and rolled it between his fingers. Elsa leaned in to try to see it better. He looked at her when she got in his light and she pulled back. He said, “It is a charm. Bedouin charm. It hung around his neck with these longer thongs and snapped off when the cords caught on the chair. He pointed to a fallen piece of leather cord on the carpet. “He will be distraught when he discovers it is missing.”

  “What is it for?” Elsa held out a hand for it and he laid it on her palm.

  “To keep the jinn away,” he smiled.

  “Jinn?”

  “Evil spirits that inhabit the wastelands. Their eerie voices carry on the wind, inciting a man to sin. They bring sandstorms and scorpions and sometimes wilt a man’s resolve with his wife.” He smiled at Elsa’s expression. “All the things a man does not welcome in his life are caused by the jinn.”

  He pulled the strings that bound the little fur bundle until it opened and then he pulled out a small scroll. “This is inscribed with the names of God, in beautiful calligraphy. Our man is naked now and susceptible to the wiles of demons. I pity him.” He tucked the little scroll gently back inside the soft fur and wrapped the bundle with the remnants of the cords before tucking it in his coat pocket over his heart. “I am protected now.”

  “He stole nothing.” Marshall shook his head.

  “He was not a thief,” Sonnenby agreed.

  “You think he was looking for your cipher?” Elsa asked.

  “Not anymore. Not after finding this.” Sonnenby touched his jacket over his heart. “This tells me he wanted something else. That cipher would be no use to a Ruwallah.

  Elsa repeated the unfamiliar word, “Ruwallah”. It that an English word?”

  Marshall frowned. “No, it is the name of a tribe.”

  Sonnenby made a face. “I wonder…”

  She looked from man to man, both deep in thought. “Would this tribe benefit from your death, Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Absolutely not!” Marshall harrumphed. “They need him to negotiate.”

  “Do they?” Sonnenby sat down. “Perhaps they see me as a traitor already.” He looked up at Marshall. “Who exactly will be meeting with the delegation?” His voice changed tone, “And I don’t mean the French ambassador.”

  Marshall nodded, understanding. “We have invited the leaders of the tribe. We did not specify. We thought it prudent for them to choose their representatives.”

  “So it could be anyone.”

  “I assume they will send your uncles. Probably also your brother.”

  “They might. They might also send cousins. That would be bad. The young men do not want foreign rule. At any price. They have not grown into greed and still think with their balls.” He flashed a glance at Elsa to apologize for his vulgarity.

  “You think there is infighting, then? They have not decided who will sign the treaty?”

  “There is always infighting. Most likely they will send a representative from both sides of the issue and the men will continue fighting.” He leaned back and put his hand over the charm in his pocket.

  Marshall looked grim. “Then you are doubly important. We must get there before they do and prepare the delegation. I need you to look through your things right now and tell me if something is missing, then rest.”

  Davies stood close to Sonnenby and moved around the room with him as he examined his discarded clothing and touched the items in his shaving kit. Davies held the leather satchel open so Sonnenby could dig through it with both hands. He paused. Elsa stepped toward him but Davies had an arm on his elbow before she got there. Sonnenby sank slowly to his knees and put a hand to his head.

  “I don’t think I have recovered,” he said softly.

  Elsa said, “Here. Let me help you to the bed. You need to lie down.”

  Sonnenby lurched to his feet and Davies steadied him. Elsa tried to lead him to the bed with a hand on his other arm, but he stopped and turned his head and shoulders with great effort toward Marshall.

  “The photograph missing from this satchel. And the silver filigreed frame.”

  Marshall picked the satchel up from the floor and looked inside. “Just the photograph?”

  Sonnenby nodded and put a hand to his head. “I have a terrible headache,” he murmured. Elsa tugged him toward the bed.

  Marshall set the satchel down on the sideboard with a thoughtful frown.

  Elsa asked, “Who was the photograph of?”

  Sonnenby did not answer until his head was on the pillow. He took a deep breath and answered, “My mother.”

  “Your mother,” Elsa breathed. She went to the lavatory and came back with a moistened cloth. “Your mother,” she repeated as she folded the cool cloth and put it on his forehead. “I have aspirin powders in my room. I will get them for you.”

  “Why would a Bedouin want the photograph of your mother?” Marshall asked. “I put all of your personal things in this satchel when I was at the asylum. Your cuff links and watch are still here.”

  Elsa sat next to Sonnenby and took his pulse. Fast. She did not look up when she answered. “It is obvious to me, Mr. Marshall.”

  “Indeed?”

  “We are bringing a man to Damascus to represent a tribe in a very important matter of sovereignty.” She leaned over Sonnenby’s face and asked him gently, “How long has it been since you were in El Zor?”

  He did not open his eyes and his voice was weak when he answered her. “Fifteen years.”

  Elsa turned to face Marshall and Davies. “See? They sent a man to confirm his identity. Really. You didn’t expect them to trust that any Englishman you dragged to Damascus was really their sheikh’s son?” She patted Sonnenby’s wrist. “They would recognize the photograph as your mother, yes?”

  “My mother was…distinctive. They would know her.”

  “There, Mr. Marshall. The man was sent to identify Lord Sonnenby. Perhaps the spy recognized Lord Sonnenby by sight, but proof would be in one
of his possessions. He was looking for something to take back to the others to confirm his identity. A photograph of the late Lady Sonnenby is proof positive he can take back to his leaders. I think we can relax. The man was not an assassin.”

  Marshall bent to pick up a shirt and draped it over a chair. “You are a remarkable woman, Fraulein Schluss.”

  Elsa gave him a look that suggested she did not appreciate his sarcasm, but softened her brows when she saw he was serious.

  Marshall continued, “If nothing else is missing, I will be inclined to agree. Lord Sonnenby looks very much like Medjel. They would know him if they saw him, but perhaps they want to know sooner. It does not surprise me that they do not trust us.” He gestured toward Davies who finished picking up the strewn clothing. “Just the same, I would like Sonnenby to stay here until the ship reaches the dock. If you would be so kind, fraulein, to stay with him until I return.”

  “The aspirin powders—“

  “Davies will get some from the purser.”

  “Of course, Mr. Marshall.”

  The two men left the room with a soft click of the door behind them. Elsa patted Sonnenby’s arm then turned the cloth on his forehead over so the cooler side would touch his skin.

  “Does your head feel any better?”

  “It is better. Thank you.”

  “Do you need another drink? Water, I mean.” She added hastily.

  “Yes. I feel drained, like there is nothing inside.”

  “Adrenaline depletion.” She diagnosed as she walked to the side board. She poured him some water. “It leaves the muscles as suddenly as it had flooded them before. The exhaustion is truly devastating, especially if you had been weak to start with.” She put the glass in his hand and helped lift his shoulders.

  “Weakness. I despise it,” he said as he handed her the empty glass and closed his eyes.

  She smiled. “Of course. Spoken like a soldier.” His face had regained some of its color. He needed a shave. He appeared to be one of those men who need to shave twice a day. Behind the dark stubble his cheeks were still pale, but not the ghastly gray that had been there before. She got up and began to smooth and fold his clothing.

  “Don’t do that.”