Barbara Cleverly (25 page)

She edged closer and sighed. ‘Because by finding out my identity you’ve put yourself in grave danger of assassination, Joe Sandilands. I have to warn you. And it’s important that you know the whole story to understand why.’

Wriggling gently under the jacket, she freed her right arm and carefully placed her revolver into his hand. ‘Here, take this. You have much more urgent need of it now than I. You know who I am but

you’re not the only one.’

She shivered again and turned anxious eyes, silver in the moonlight, to his, determined to make him understand the urgency of what she had to tell him.

‘Someone else in Simla knows. Someone in Simla has always known! And they’ll try to kill you now for the same reason they killed Lionel Conyers and Feodor Korsovsky.’

Ť ^ ť

A chilling wind stirred the jasmine over their heads. Alice shook a shoulder free from the jacket and spread it over Joe’s back so that they were sharing the protection of the light tweed and sharing their body heat. Her arm slipped round his waist and Joe felt a thumb inserted into his waistband. He was disconcertingly aware as she snuggled closer that her softly curved body was pressing against him, aware also of her warm breath as she whispered urgently in his ear.

‘I’m telling you all this because I need help and I think you need help too. We may be able to do a deal. Let me tell you

When I’d been in India for nearly a year I came up to Simla. My first season here in the hot weather. ICTC had begun to turn round. Everybody knew it. I had a letter. The strangest letter! It said, “Dear Isobel.” And that was all! Literally all! Someone wanted me to know that they knew who I truly was.’

‘That must have given you the fright of your life!’

‘It was totally unnerving. Calculatedly unnerving. I was left in suspense for two weeks and then the follow-up came. It said, and I remember the words exactly, “Dear Isobel, You are playing a dangerous game and you are going to need protection. This I can provide. Protection will be total but it will not be free. I shall require four thousand rupees a year. I will tell you how this is to be paid.” And that was all.’

‘Four thousand rupees a year!’ said Joe, aghast. ‘That’s about what a senior Indian Civil Service official earns.’

‘Yes, it’s a lot of money but it was well calculated. It was a sum which I could without crippling difficulty raise and manage to lose in the books. Had it been substantially more there would have been a problem. But my correspondent was no fool; eager only to keep the golden goose alive, well and paying – paying well but not absurdly well.’

‘And how did you pay it? Surely it’s traceable?’

‘No. A very clever scheme. Totally untraceable. Simple and calculated not to raise the slightest suspicion. A note was delivered to the office. It told me to go along to the jewellers, Robertson. Do you know

?’

‘Yes,’ Joe nodded. ‘I’ve seen his shop and met the proprietor. Are you telling me he’s crooked? I did wonder.’

‘You must decide for yourself when I’ve explained the scheme. He provides the perfect cover. I was told to take cash or a money order to the value of four thousand rupees but take jewellery to only half that value. That’s it. Twice a year, in April and October, I go to his shop and perform the transaction. If there are other customers present, and there sometimes are friends of mine in the shop, they simply see me take Robertson’s advice on a particular piece, and pay for it with a cheque. All above board, you see. Sometimes I come away with a Burmese ruby, a choice opal, a large star sapphire. That’s all I know. What Robertson does with the other half I have no idea.’

‘Do you think he might be the one who’s blackmailing you?’

‘No. I have a feeling that he’s just a channel for this exchange – I don’t think he knows what’s going on.’

‘And what do you do with the jewellery? With your half of the Danegeld?’

She gave a mischievous smile. ‘I’ve kept it. Every piece. It’s in a safe place. Through these Simla years I’ve been living quite dangerously in fear of being found out at any moment. Working hard relieved the pressure. It took my mind off the threat. In a way I suppose it gave me an extra incentive to make the firm as successful as I could in as short a time as I could. Never quite knowing when it would come to an end.’

‘I see,’ said Joe, making no attempt to keep a mounting admiration out of his voice. ‘A little running-away fund?’

‘A big running-away fund. And getting bigger every year. Gems can cross borders so easily and I can sell them anywhere, no questions asked. They’re the international currency in these parts. Much more reliable and acceptable than paper currency. But one day I got a letter from Lionel Conyers. My “brother”, if you please! I knew a good deal about him from Alice’s diary. I knew that he was seven years older than her; I knew she didn’t like him, perhaps was even a bit afraid of him. It seemed they hardly knew each other – hadn’t seen each other for years. I turned this way and that! Risk it with the unknown Lionel? Could I ever deceive him? Play the game of “do you remember?” In the end I decided to perfect my arrangements for a sudden and discreet (and by no means empty-handed!) disappearance but to leave this till the very last minute, arguing to myself that anything could happen. I was right. In India anything could and something did! Poor Lionel! I was taken to identify the body. He was rather a mess. He’d been shot through the head. But, I’ll tell you, Joe, I was so bloody relieved I had no problem in giving him a sisterly kiss.’

She was silent for a moment as if daring Joe to comment and then, ‘Bystanders were much affected by this, I’m told. Many shed a tear and so did I! Do you wonder I thought myself invincible? Fate again, you see! But I was very confused. Fate this time had had an instrument. I couldn’t understand why or who

though I had an awful suspicion. Then the day after Lionel’s funeral a letter arrived at the office. “Dear Isobel, Danger averted. In gratitude for extra protection pay three thousand rupees.” ’

‘A one-off payment?’

She nodded. ‘A substantial sum, you see, but just possible.’

‘And what about Korsovsky? Have your protectors communicated with you about his death?’

‘No. Not yet. I found out about his theatre booking last November when it was all arranged and was very alarmed, as you might guess. He would obviously identify me the minute he set eyes on me but I knew Feodor wouldn’t give me away if he was forewarned. Or even if not forewarned. One look, one wink across the heads of the crowd would have been enough! He had a rascally sense of humour and he would have relished the situation. I really loved him, Joe. Once

’ Her voice trailed away but she shook off her memories and her voice hardened. ‘My bloody protection squad! Keeping me here like a milk cow! I feel trapped, Joe! Under surveillance the whole time! But by whom?’

‘Well, it has to be somebody who knows Isobel Newton rather than Alice Conyers if you think about it,’ said Joe. ‘Anyone who was familiar with Alice would know that her brother would unmask you but they wouldn’t know about the Korsovsky danger unless they knew Isobel from her past. And from her relatively recent past. It has to be someone who knew you in the days when you lived in France. Your gallery of old lovers? Has one of them surfaced in Simla?’

‘A desperately depleted band! Not one. I check the arrivals list every day. You know that everyone arriving in Simla has to give their name and business

it’s easy to get access to it – you could say it’s almost a social register.’

‘An old school friend?’

‘I haven’t recognized anyone. And don’t forget, Joe, that anyone who knew me – Isobel – from my schooldays would remember the sixteen-year-old that I was when I left for France. I look and am a very different person.’

‘Someone then who was close to you at the time of the accident, before, as it were, you had had time to slip into the role and play it as confidently as you do now?’

‘Marie-Jeanne, you mean? Yes, I had considered that. I’ve replayed every word we exchanged in those first days over and over and I’m quite certain that I gave nothing away. I spoke entirely in English, I appeared to know who I was

I gave a very convincing account of myself. When they left me alone to sleep I used to get out my

Alice’s

diary and learn up her life for the previous five years.’ Isobel rolled her eyes. ‘My God! It didn’t take long to learn! My own would have filled ten volumes! And then there was the leather folder

’

‘Containing the Company details?’

‘Yes, that one. Now that held far more interest for me. Even then I began to understand and unravel the Company. Certain executive gentlemen were about to be catapulted into early retirement even before I’d left Marseilles!’

‘So, as far as Marie-Jeanne was concerned, you didn’t falter or hesitate?’

‘No. It would have been easy enough to blame any aberration, any loss of memory on the accident, but I never needed to do that.’

‘She did notice one odd thing, though.’

Isobel looked at him in surprise and alarm.

‘Your green silk underwear. She thought it very strange that a soberly clad English girl would be wearing such glamorous underpinnings. Indulgently, she put it down to girlish rebellion. A hasty purchase made in Paris. Cocking a surreptitious snook at your travelling chaperone. “It made me like her a lot,” she said. ’

Isobel smiled and nodded. ‘Marie-Jeanne would put that interpretation on it. She is very generous-minded and fond of me, I do believe.’

‘Fond enough to protect your identity if it were known to her?’

‘Yes, I don’t doubt that for a moment. But she would never blackmail me. If she wanted money she would only have to ask me. She knows that. But she does not ask. She is doing very well on her own account and has turned out to be a natural businesswoman. Marie-Jeanne is very

upright, very religious. Though not religious enough to please her parents, I’m afraid. Landed gentry, petty-minded, rigid people who didn’t understand her at all. She was plain and large and the only girl among five brothers. No concessions were made for her sex – she was brought up as a boy, hunting, shooting and fighting and praying for forgiveness for all these activities on Sundays. One day they noticed that she had matured, was by no means attractive enough to be a good marriage prospect, and suggested the only thing that came into their hidebound minds – that she should become a nun. Very respectable way of getting rid of an unwanted daughter in France even in these days. She refused but placated them by offering her services in another cause dear to their hearts – the army. She became a nurse. And some years later she met me in hospital in Beaune.’

‘And everything changed for her,’ said Joe thoughtfully. ‘She’s leading a life which quite obviously suits her, a life which would come to an end perhaps if her patron, her protector, her friend, were disgraced. If the money that had launched her in business were proved to be fraudulently obtained?’

‘What depths of suspicion your mind is capable of plumbing!’

‘It helps to keep me alive.’

‘Well, you’re going to need to suspect everyone in Simla if you’re to get out of this town without a bullet in your hide, Commander. I mean that! Trust no one! Well, perhaps you may turn your back on the excellent Mrs Carter but no one else.’ She was silent for a moment and then added, ‘And Captain Simpson – surely his life would be at risk too if my watcher, my enemy were to realize the significance of his visit to Simla?’

‘We’ve kept his appearance very quiet. No one other than ourselves knows who he is, and be assured that Carter has him under constant watch.’

‘Are you going to tell me how on earth you managed to find him? Where did he spring from? Was he always aware

?’

‘Oh yes, he knew but the truth was so extraordinary, so unpalatable he assumed his brain was playing tricks on him. We found his name listed as a survivor in a newspaper Korsovsky carried in his luggage.’

‘A newspaper? What newspaper? Why did Feodor have a copy?’ Alice’s voice was suddenly sharp with suspicion. Joe explained that her swift departure to India had preceded the publication of the finalized list of the dead and the survivors and that Feodor had been sent a copy by his agent largely in evidence of Isobel’s reported death.

‘He must have been more fond of me than I had allowed,’ was her sad comment. ‘But tell me, Joe, this newspaper

where is it now? May I see a copy? Would that be possible? I should be very interested to read an account of my death.’

‘Carter has it,’ Joe said, ‘at the station. I can’t see any reason why he wouldn’t let you see it if you really wanted to.’ He replied cheerfully enough but something about her tone and the barely hidden anxiety underlying it was ringing warning bells. There was more to her eagerness to read the account than mere curiosity, he thought.

‘Look, Alice, if you do go to see Carter be discreet. I think for everyone’s security it would be best if we all went on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened tonight

’

‘You’re joking! The scene at the seance will be doing the rounds of the coffee houses and drawing rooms tomorrow!’

‘You said yourself when I chased you up here – anyone would have fled. Miss Trollope even fainted and disappeared under the table. Some of the others looked completely horror-stricken, I recall. If Carter and I refrain from hauling you off up the Mall in manacles and continue to treat you with sycophantic deference and call you Mrs Conyers-Sharpe in public places, I think you’ll find there’s been no harm done and no suspicions raised. We can leave Minerva Freemantle to come up with a convincing story to cover the apparition – that’s right up her street. She’ll probably find her client list has doubled once the sensation-seekers get hold of this!’

Isobel nodded her agreement.

‘But don’t get excited,’ he began, and then continued awkwardly, ‘I’m making no promises. You’ll be aware, of course, that I have no authority here in Simla and the decision as to whether to reveal your fraud and to whom rests with others who will, doubtless, take the appropriate action.’ Joe paused, aware that the pompous and semi-official phrases contrasted absurdly with his situation. The girl in his arms was aware of it too. Hard little fingers nipped him sharply in the side.