Blue Damask (8 page)

    Sonnenby was improving, but she was not certain it was the result of her work.  She had actually done very little for  him. There had been no long discussions of anything important.  She was no closer to discovering what event had snapped his mind.

     His claim that he exaggerated his symptoms to annoy his attendants did not ring true.  The look in his eyes after he had pummeled the Turk to death could not have been faked.  She would have known he was faking. 
But maybe I am wrong.
Perhaps he was a very good actor.  No, she decided, he could not have feigned that look in his eyes.

     And he was still volatile.  He could be smart and sarcastic one moment, sad and withdrawn the next.  She needed to write the notes, not just think them.  She bent over the little book, feverishly writing as the train swayed and clacked its way to Istanbul.

     The station at Istanbul was crowded and noisy and filled with strange smells and even stranger costumes.  Elsa tried not to appear undignified but couldn’t help craning her neck every time someone interesting passed her.  She waited on the platform with her bags and the porter Mr. Marshall had sent to guard her.

     She had time in the morning to bathe and iron her clothes and fix her hair.  She had been reasonably comfortable with her appearance when she left her compartment with her briefcase in hand.  The porter followed her to the platform and set down her bags and waited with her.  Now she could only shake her head at her concerns.

     The variations in dress and, especially headgear, on the walkways was intimidating, and suggested to her that she could have been standing there naked and no one would have noticed.  Perhaps ‘naked’ was extreme, but a woman walked by wearing the latest shimmering Paris fashion followed closely by a woman in a burka followed by a Bulgarian woman in an elaborately embroidered peasant dress.  Elsa’s white blouse and straight skirt seemed as out of place in the colorful milieu as being naked would have.  She caught herself picking at her sleeve and stopped.

    
No one is looking at me
, she told herself. 
Everyone is concerned with their own business.
That wasn’t exactly true, of course.  There was a man looking at her from the window of the ticket office.  He was looking at her hair.  Her hand moved up as if to touch the chignon, but she caught herself and lowered it again to her side.  She was not wearing a hat.  That must be it.  As she looked around she saw that all the women had hats of one kind or a head scarf.  She sighed. 
I will have to buy a hat.
  She did not wear them in Vienna, and her idiosyncrasy was of no account to Doctor Engel.  She had become so accustomed to doing without them that she had not packed any for this trip.

     Now she felt uncomfortably bare without one. Her hair was a very fair ash blonde.  An unusual color even in Austria, but here in the Levant, it was like a silver beacon. Most of the heads around her were covered with very dark hair, if any hair showed at all. She did not like feeling conspicuous. Her hand made it up to the back of her head in spite of herself. 
Interesting how one can feel naked when fully clothed.

     “Your hair looks beautiful.  Leave it be, though I will have to buy you a scarf.”  She turned around.  Mr. Marshall stood before her, looking at his pocket watch.  He snapped the silver cover and tucked it away in his waistcoat.  “
Fraulein
.  As I told you before, I will have to make phone calls and send some telegrams before boarding the ship.  I would like you and Davies to escort Lord Sonnenby to the
Oriana.  
I have ordered a limousine from the embassy.
 
I will join you presently.”

     “As you wish.”

     His tone softened a bit, but he did not look at her.  He made a show of searching through his wallet. “I am sorry you will not be able to spend any time in the fabulous bazaars here.  I promise you will enjoy the ones in Damascus.”

     “I did not come here to shop, Mr. Marshall.”

     His eyes flicked up at her for a moment and he made that British noise in his throat she had come to associate with him.  It sounded like “harrumph.”  It was definitely a dismissal.  He tucked his wallet into his jacket and moved away from her and soon his bowler was lost in the crowd of other hats.  She looked up and down the long train, watching for Davies and Sonnenby to emerge from one of the openings.  There
.
  The two men stepped down from the train with two porters behind them.  She watched them search for her and find her easily.  She touched the back of her hair again.

     “
Fraulein
Schluss, a car waits for us on the other side of this building,” Davies said as he took her elbow.   The porter grabbed her bags and she was steered through the crowd.  She looked over her shoulder at Sonnenby.  He wore no restraints at all and Davies did not seem the least worried he might dissolve into the crowd.  In fact, Sonnenby was carrying a leather satchel over one shoulder and appeared cheerful and refreshed as he followed them, looking to the right and the left at the passengers coming and going on the busy platform.  She turned to Davies and tried to remove her arm from his grip.  He tightened it and said, “Come along, Miss Schluss.”

     “I beg your pardon, Mr. Davies, but you are hurting my arm.  And what about Mr. Sinclair?  He has no handcuffs?  No shackles? Not even a porter on either side of him?”

     Davies shouldered his way through a group of men waiting for a train.  He ushered her into the space he made and smiled to himself.

     Elsa insisted. “Mr. Davies?”

     “Well, miss.  I asked Mr. Marshall the same thing not an hour ago.  He told me Lord Sonnenby would be dead had he been in restraints when that Turk broke in.  He’s right.  My lord needs to be able to defend himself.”

     Elsa nodded.  Very reasonable.  She glanced back at Sonnenby who gave her a brief smile.  She looked up at Davies and whispered, “Aren’t you afraid he will run away?”

     Davies’ face took on a ruddy glow when he looked down at her and answered.  “Mr. Marshall said to me, he said ‘Davies, lead the mare and the stallion will follow’.”

     Elsa’s mouth dropped open and she tried to set her feet, making Davies stumble as he pulled her along.  She sputtered, “’The mare?  The
mare
?”

     “Yes.  You see?   It is working.”  Davies jerked her forward with a tug on her arm.  “Mr. Marshall must have been raised on a farm, is all I can say.”

     She blinked rapidly and drew her breath in, tossing her head.  The grip on her arm was firm and she found herself trotting along to keep up with Davies.  She looked behind her again to see Sonnenby still following nearly on her heels.

     Their car was waiting, the chauffeur had the back door opened and bowed low as Davies neatly thrust her through the door.  She clambered over the seat.  Her skirt was not full enough to allow her legs enough movement to do it gracefully.  By the time she was upright and seated, Sonnenby was close beside her, smiling.  He handed her briefcase to her.  “You dropped this back on the platform,
fraulein
.”

     “Thank you.” Elsa mumbled.  She caught herself with her hand on her chignon again.  The porter had put their bags in the boot and the chauffer climbed into the front next to Davies.   She stared at the back of the chauffer’s head, hoping Sonnenby would not see the blush she knew was creeping across her cheeks
.  Lead the mare.
Elsa began composing the tongue-lashing for Mr. Marshall when she saw him again
.  Indeed, Mr. Marshall.

     “You are beautiful when you are angry.”  Sonnenby’s voice was low to keep the men in the front seat from hearing.

     Elsa set her teeth to keep from replying.  She was feeling anything but professional right now.

     “Are you looking forward to the boat ride?  Have you traveled by ship before?’

     She took a deep breath to steady her voice.  “No, Lord Sonnenby.  I have not traveled by ship before.”

     “You will enjoy it, I am sure.  We have first class tickets.”  He sat back in the seat and relaxed as the car pulled away from the station.  “It will be like a cruise.”

     Elsa turned to look out the window at the crowded streets of Istanbul.  Pedestrians hurried out of the way of the few cars and the many donkeys.  She saw two camels standing tied together outside a shop.  She forgot herself and turned her head as they went by, even swiveling in the seat to keep the animals in sight as long as possible.

     “The camels are there to impress the tourists,” Sonnenby said.  She turned back to the front avoiding his eye.  His voice was amused as he continued.  “You will see more of them in Damascus.”

     Elsa knew it was fruitless to try to regain her dignity.

     The car surged forward and took a sharp turn, scattering small boys with their donkeys to either side of the road.  Elsa grabbed the back of the seat in front of her and braced her feet in the foot well against the force of the turn.

     Sonnenby cursed. “What are you doing, man?  There is a lady back here!”

     Davies turned around and his face was serious.  “We’re being followed, sir.  Marshall told us to be wary of the other cars.”

     Sonnenby turned around and looked out the back window at the traffic as did Elsa.  She could see another car, a dark sedan, in the billowing yellow dust thrown up by the limousine’s wheels.

     “It is suspicious?”

     “We have taken many turns not necessary for the route to the harbor.  This car,” he gestured over the back of the seat at the rear window, “has made the same turns.”  Davies glanced at the chauffer who was concentrating on the road.  Pedestrians did not stay safely to the sides of the street.  The chauffeur leaned on the horn.  Davies looked back.  “Even now, sir, you see it has kept pace with us.”

     Elsa frowned.  “Could it be Mr. Marshall trying to catch up?”

     Davies said, “No, miss.”

     Sonnenby looked grim.  “Give me a pistol, Davies.”

     The car took a sharp right.  Chickens and stray cats scattered as the driver gunned the engine for a straightaway ahead.  The horn continued to blow, warning people to step back from the street.  Elsa watched the alarmed faces as they sped past her window, men and women boys and animals jumped back from the road.  Some raised fists in the air as they disappeared in the dust.

     Davies held tightly to his seat with one hand as he held a pistol in the other.  He looked at the sidearm once, as if cementing his decision before leaning forward and handing it to Sonnenby.  “I know you are a crack shot, sir.  It is good to be handing you a weapon again, sir.”

     Sonnenby grunted as he took the gun and examined the cylinder.  He sighted along the barrel with the swollen eye closed.  The car swerved again.

     Elsa wondered at the wisdom of giving a mental patient man a pistol.  Davies, however, didn’t blink an eye.  She looked from one man to the other.

     The car had left the most crowded parts of the city behind, and now travelled a road that paralleled the famous high walls that had protected the ancient city for a thousand years.  Elsa held tightly to the upholstery, for the road was rough and they bounced violently at this speed.

     The dark sedan had not followed one of their turns and this put it farther behind than before, but now it was obvious they were being chased.  They were the only two motor vehicles on the narrow road that was climbing a bluff.  No more pedestrians choked the road and the chauffeur had the car in the highest gear.

     Elsa heard him shift down as they turned again and headed away from the walls and up a steep road towards the villas and orchards of the wealthiest residents of Istanbul.  Behind them the sedan followed, getting closer. It was hampered by the dust thrown up by the limousine.  She saw the driver of the sedan move the car to the left and right to avoid the thickest clouds and the pebbles thrown up by the wheels.

     Sonnenby had finished his examination of his pistol.  He rolled down his window and now leaned out.  Elsa heard a shot over the roar of the engine and the grinding of the gravel.  The dark sedan swerved, but returned to the road quickly.  An answering shot pinged off the roof of the limousine.  Elsa crouched down in her seat in alarm.

     “Get down!” Sonnenby shouted unnecessarily.

     Davies cursed and when she looked up at him she could see he was armed as well.  “What are they shooting with?”

     “They’ve got a rifle,” Sonnenby answered.  He took another shot as the car turned.  “Military issue.”

     “Bloody  hell,” was Davies reply.  His handgun went out the window and answered the rifle’s retort.

     Elsa climbed down into the foot well.  Sonnenby touched her shoulder.  “Stay down.  Don’t worry.”

     Her eyes flashed at him.  “Don’t worry?”  Another shot from the rifle was like an exclamation point.  “
Gott im Himmel, dummkopf
.”

     He ducked as a direct hit shook the car.  “I understand German fairly well,
fraulein
.”   To the chauffeur he said, “Take the next left and double back.  I need a clear shot at the driver.”

     Elsa hung on to the seats and kept her face down low near the foot well.  She could no longer see what was going on, but could only discern from the bouncing of the car and the terse remarks of the men.  The car sped one way, then seemed to turn and accelerate another. She heard two more rifle shots.  She peeked over the edge of the seat.  Sonnenby was leaning out his window, the pistol pointed behind them.

     The car swerved again and she had to clutch at the back of the driver’s seat to stay in place.  Then Sonnenby’s pistol rang out with a sharp crack, once, twice.  The limousine bounced one more time and slid sideways.  The men were shouting something.  One side of the car went high in the air as if the two wheels on that side were climbing a rock or some incline.  Elsa slid against the door.  A strong hand grabbed her by the shoulder and hoisted her back on the seat as the car moved in slow motion to roll over on one side.  Her door was now under her knees and Sonnenby was standing next to her, lifting her.  She could understand him now.