Winds of Eden (14 page)

‘I never expected to see you here again after the way you walked out last Friday.'

‘I was in shock. Do you really expect me to believe I'm the father of your child?'

‘You've had a memory lapse, Charles?'

‘It was once …'

‘Once is all it takes. Forgive me for being crude, but I assure you that you are the only man I fornicated with after I left India. There's been no one since. But I have no intention of arguing Robin's paternity with you. It's a matter of complete indifference to me whether you believe me or not.'

‘Then why tell me I'm Robin's father, Maud?'

‘I assumed – it appears wrongly – that you'd like to know you have a child.'

‘Were you hoping I'd pay for his keep – and yours?'

‘No. Absolutely not. The baby is mine and my responsibility. Emotionally and financially.'

‘When it comes to emotions I hope you take more care of his than you did of John's. As for financially, this should help?' He took the jewellery case Tom and Michael had found in Harry's safety deposit box from his case and set it on the table.

She stared at it.

‘It was yours?'

‘It was,' she conceded. ‘I didn't expect to see it again.'

‘Or these?' he opened the case. ‘I recognised them the moment I saw them.'

‘You've seen them before?'

‘You were wearing them when I called on you in India, the night before we sailed for here.'

‘You mean, the night before you dragged me here.' The blood red rubies in their glittering gold and diamond settings caught the light and sparkled on the bed of oyster velvet. Maud flicked the lid closed. ‘Harry sold them for me. He gave me the money.'

‘If Harry had sold them I wouldn't have them,' Charles said.

‘Where did you get them?'

‘Harry's safety deposit box at Gray Mackenzie & Co.'

‘Why would Harry have a safety deposit box?'

‘To store his valuables while he was at the front. Michael's trying to find Harry's Arab wife. We went to Abdul's to ask if he knew where she was. He gave us a copy of Harry's will.'

‘Harry gave his will to an Arab?' Maud was shocked.

‘John and I were upstream with most of the force. There wouldn't have been many people around and Abdul, like Harry's wife, is Arab.'

‘He could have left his will with Reverend Butler or Theo.'

‘He left it with Abdul, Maud. He obviously trusted the man. Abdul showed us Harry's room. We found the key to the security box there. Under the terms of Harry's will,' he pointed to the jewellery, ‘these are to be given to you.'

‘Harry never sold them?'

‘It looks that way.'

‘But Harry gave me a great deal of money for them. I couldn't possibly keep the money and the jewels.'

‘It's what Harry intended.'

‘I doubt Harry intended to die,' Maud retorted.

‘None of us intend to die, Maud, but every soldier has to be prepared to do just that. Take the jewels. Harry wouldn't have mentioned them in his will if he didn't want you to have them.'

‘They're his. They should go with the rest of his estate.'

‘The only other beneficiary Harry named is his wife and so far Michael's had no luck in tracking her down.'

‘Where is Michael looking for her?'

‘Here, in Basra. He didn't go up river with Tom. He's renting a room in Abdul's as Harry did. He's been interviewing people in HQ and writing articles on morale and our determination to relieve the Indian Expeditionary Force holed up in Kut.'

‘How is the force hoping to accomplish that?'

‘That's classified military information.'

‘Angela is beside herself with concern over Peter.'

‘We'll get him – and the others out.' Thinking of John and Harry and how any attempt to break the siege would come too late for them, he leaned forward and looked into the cot so she couldn't read the expression in his eyes. ‘You're determined to bring up this child alone?'

‘If you want him, Charles, take him.'

‘I'm hardly in a position to care for a baby.'

She indicated the woman sitting next to the cot. ‘I've hired a nursemaid. I'll continue to pay her wages if you move her into a military bungalow.'

‘Why would I move a child that's not related to me into military quarters?'

‘The orphaned son of your best friend shouldn't raise too many eyebrows.'

‘People note dates, Maud. Everyone knows the child isn't John's. I assume you have candidates for lover, husband, and fatherhood duties hovering around you. There wasn't a shortage in India.'

‘There's no one.' She picked up the box from the table and handed it to him. ‘Please take the jewels. I couldn't manage without the money Harry gave me. If I took them back I'd feel as though I'd accepted charity. Give them to Michael.'

‘I doubt he'd find them useful upstream.'

‘He could pass them on to Harry's sister.'

‘I know Harry's sister. She wouldn't want or wear them.'

‘Then tell Michael to sell them and give the money to Harry's wife when he finds her,' she suggested in exasperation.

‘They're yours, Maud. You find someone to buy them.'

‘I couldn't find anyone, which is why I gave them to Harry.'

‘It appears Harry couldn't find anyone who wanted them either.' Charles opened the box again and looked at them. ‘Tom said you told him you were living on the proceeds of a jewellery sale. You never did tell me who gave you these. Was it D'Arbez?' He referred to the Portuguese plantation owner and trader whose name he'd heard linked with Maud's.'

‘What if it was?'

‘Payment for services rendered?' he taunted.

‘Believe what you will.'

‘Tainted ill-gotten gains, antique, and in their way quite magnificent. They probably once belonged to an Empress or at the very least a Maharani.' He snapped the box shut, returned it to the table, and reached for his crutches. ‘Keep them. Wear them when you have a settled life again, Maud. And you will. Scum always rises to the top. They may attract a man looking for a wife who doesn't know who or what you are.'

‘And your son?'

‘If I thought for one minute he was really mine, I'd be concerned for his fate. As it is, I couldn't give a damn. Find some other dupe, Maud. One who's stupid enough to believe your lies.'

Chapter Fourteen

The Basra Club, Sunday 2nd January 1916

A steward waylaid Michael when he walked into the Basra Club at twelve forty-five. He eyed his civilian clothes with the disparaging expression Michael had come to expect, not from the military, but the civilians who served them.

‘Are you a member of the Basra Club, sir?'

Michael wished he'd acquired Harry's aptitude for telling convincing lies. ‘No.'

‘I regret to say, sir, affiliated status of the Club has only been extended to officers serving in His Majesty's Forces.'

‘I am here to meet an officer. Colonel …'

The steward interrupted him. ‘I have a list of expected guests, sir. Your name?'

‘Michael Downe.'

‘If you'd care to follow me, sir.'

Michael glanced into the dining room and lounge as they passed the open doors but failed to spot the political officer's lean figure.

‘This way, sir.' The steward prompted. He led Michael down a corridor, up a staircase and through a passageway into the back of the building. He opened a door.

Sir Percival Cox and two majors were standing in front of a desk blanketed with layers of maps.

Cox checked his pocket watch. ‘Mr Downe, I wasn't expecting you for another ten minutes.'

‘I could wait downstairs, sir.'

‘Not necessary.' Cox addressed the officers. ‘I believe we've finished here, gentlemen.'

‘If you have no further orders for us, sir.'

‘Not at present. Report to my office six hundred hours tomorrow.'

‘Understood, sir.' One of the officers gathered the maps, and proceeded to roll them into a leather tube.

‘Take a seat, Mr Downe.' Cox pointed to rattan chairs grouped around a cane table. After the officers left, he picked up two glasses and set them next to a samovar on the table.

‘Have you made a decision, Mr Downe?'

‘If you really believe I can be of service to you, and my country, I accept.'

‘Good man.' The political officer filled the glasses with tea. He pushed one and a bowl of sugar cubes in front of Michael.

‘Should I prove a disappointment …'

‘If you're one-tenth of the man your brother was, Mr Downe, you won't. Given your cover as a journalist you'll be excused uniform, although as I've already said, you'll be commissioned and paid as a captain. You'll report to me directly.'

‘Will my commission be generally known, sir?'

‘No, and your fellow political officers will only be told on a need-to-know basis. Commissions in the Political service aren't like those in the army. They're more of a …' Cox chose his words with circumspection, ‘an honorary title. Useful when you meet the occasional regimental blockhead who might be tempted to try to pull seniority on you. You're attached only to the Political Service and we work in the shadows, Mr Downe. The less the regular army knows about us the better. All our senior officers, myself included, are Lieutenant Colonels in name and pay grade. Ranking with the Political Service is very much dependent on the respect a man earns.' He changed the subject abruptly. ‘You'll receive a visitor at Abdul's this afternoon. An Arab Syce, Daoud. He's made an appointment for you to visit a native horse trader at sixteen hundred hours.'

‘You were certain I'd accept your offer?'

‘You were turned down by the military yet you persisted until you discovered a way to serve. It was obvious you'd accept my proposal, Mr Downe. Daoud will help you select your horses. Most officers have at least four. The country upriver is hard on them, especially with the rainy season about to start. I can vouch for Daoud's honesty. He's been working for the Political Office for some time. When do you leave to join the forces upriver?'

‘Tomorrow morning.'

‘When you reach the camp and begin interviewing, pay particular attention to the Arab irregulars. Find out which tribe they're from. Daoud will interpret.'

‘Wouldn't he be better off going in alone?'

‘To talk to the Arab tribesmen, yes. But I'd like you to talk to their leaders.'

‘They don't know me.'

‘When they recognise your resemblance to your brother they'll want to sympathise with you on your loss.'

Michael was taken aback. ‘You want me to use Harry's death as an introduction?'

‘To influential sheikhs, yes, Mr Downe. We're at war. I'm prepared to use every weapon at my disposal to fight it, including the friendships forged by our fallen heroes. It's essential the Arabs your brother courted and won to our cause remain on our side.' Cox's eyes were grey, cold, the colour of tempered steel. ‘As well as speaking to the natives, I'd appreciate you gauging the attitude of the Relief Force officers towards those in command.'

‘Any names in particular you want me to look out for, sir?'

‘Best you go upstream with no pre-conceived ideas, Downe. Do you know any men stationed there?'

‘My cousin Tom Mason is a captain seconded to the Indian Medical Service. We travelled here together. He went upriver on Friday evening.'

‘No one else?'

‘The officers on the transport that brought me here. There may be people I was in school or university with, but none I'm aware of.'

‘Have arrangements been made for you to telegraph your reports to your editor?'

‘I'll be allowed to use the wireless when it is not needed for military communications, sir.'

Cox smiled. ‘Be prepared to telegraph in the early hours of the morning, Mr Downe.'

‘It wouldn't be the first time, sir. I reported from …'

‘The Western Front, I'm aware of your last posting, Mr Downe.'

‘Do I send my reports to you by wireless, sir?'

‘Good Lord, no! I have a network of couriers. Daoud knows them all. Should you be separated from Daoud for any reason you can send non-sensitive reports downstream in the mailbag for HQ. Anything sensitive you keep to yourself until you can be certain that it will reach me personally. All communiqués forwarded in the general mail must be marked “personal” to me with my name, rank, and number.'

‘I'll be certain to do that, sir.'

‘It's common knowledge that a show upstream is imminent. Townshend will be out of supplies by the end of the month. The sooner we extricate him and his command the sooner we can begin the campaign to take Baghdad. I hope to be in Ali Gharbi myself shortly. Should you have any queries before my arrival, ask Daoud. He's acquainted with the precious few natives on our side, also the untrustworthy open to bribery, and those who'd slit our throats given half a chance. Did your brother write to you?'

‘Not often and rarely about military matters.'

‘That's no reflection on you, or your relationship with him, Mr Downe. As your brother well knew, nothing contentious or military would get past the censor. The problem is, we're not only fighting the Turks who are desperately trying to cling on to their empire, but almost the entire population of this country The Arabs are baying for independence.'

‘Are they likely to get it, sir?'

The political officer's eyes narrowed. ‘Not from the Turks.'

‘Us?'

‘It would be premature to discuss the future of Mesopotamia before we've driven out the Turk, Downe.'

‘So we have no plans for the country?'

‘You've accepted a position as a captain in the Political Office, Downe. Despite your cover as a journalist, this meeting and our conversation, like all our future conversations, are entirely off the record. So forget any thoughts you might have had about publishing any part of anything said by me.'

Michael resisted the temptation to argue that his position as a journalist was more than a cover. ‘I understand, sir.'

‘I trust you do, Downe, or our acquaintance will be a brief one.'

‘It would help if I knew the Indian Office's long-term plans for Mesopotamia, sir,' Michael ventured.

‘You've heard something?'

‘Rumours, sir.'

‘Elucidate?'

‘A letter that was sent to an M.P.'

‘It's well known that there are people, in the Indian Office, Westminster and the military, even in my own department, with plans for Mesopotamia.'

‘I read Sir William Willcocks' argument for annexing the country for India, sir. He suggested irrigating the southern lower reaches of the desert around Amara and Basra with water from the Tigris and Euphrates until it rivals the north for fertility. He also suggested that this new agricultural land could be populated with surplus Indians from the Punjab who would, and I quote, “transform Lower Mesopotamia into one of the largest granaries of the world.” Presumably with the aim of creating a new colony for India?'

‘The Indian Office has made no secret of its expansionist plans,' Cox agreed.

‘Are the Arabs aware of these plans, sir?' Michael asked.

‘To be frank, Downe, it's not something I've discussed with them, or would wish to. I trust you're not thinking of bringing the matter up in conversation with any sheikhs you meet.'

‘No, sir. But there was a paragraph in the proposition I found disturbing.'

‘Which one?'

‘It stated that the Arab population would gladly accept British rule through the Indian Office as they did at Basra before the war. Harry was here, and he never mentioned British rule of any part of the Ottoman Empire, or “glad acceptance by the natives”.'

‘You said he never wrote about the war.'

‘This was before the war, sir. I'm just looking for confirmation that the Indian Office sees Mesopotamia as a future colony of our eastern empire.'

‘I wouldn't go as far as to say that's how the Indian Office sees the future of this country, Downe. Like you, I've heard it argued that skilful irrigation could transform the arid nature of the lower reaches of the desert around Basra. My deputy even suggested we wouldn't even have to garrison the country as the land could be leased or gifted to native Indian Army veterans who'd form a territorial defensive militia should the Arabs prove difficult, which in my opinion they most definitely would if the Indian Office imported overlords. Mesopotamia is very different to India, as your brother well knew. The Bedouin may be nomadic, but they are neither disorganised nor weak. Two attributes I believe the Indian Office equate with their nomadic lifestyle.'

‘So the political future of Mesopotamia has yet to be decided sir?' Michael tried not to sound disingenuous.

‘As I've already said, first we have to drive out the Turks. There's no point in even discussing the matter until we've accomplished that much.' Cox refilled their tea glasses.

Michael sensed Cox wanted to end the interview but there was one subject he hadn't yet broached. ‘Have you managed to locate my brother's bearer, sir?'

‘I sent a message out on the native grapevine. Hopefully he will hear it.'

‘If he should contact you, I'd be grateful if you'd let me know.'

‘Of course.'

‘Captain Reid informed me that my brother was shot by a Turkish sniper.'

‘That's correct.'

‘Does anyone know what happened to his body?'

‘Other than his corpse fell into Turkish hands, no. There are many unmarked graves in the desert, Mr Downe. I usually say that is a situation that will be rectified at the end of the war, but not in your brother's case. He left Kut to spy on the Turks. He was dressed in native robes and carried nothing that could identify him as a British officer. Not even his identification tags. There's no way of distinguishing his body from any other, even if it should be found.'

‘Thank you for your honesty, sir.' Michael left his chair. ‘I have copy to deliver before I go upstream. Please excuse me.'

‘You won't forget to meet Daoud in Abdul's.'

‘At four o'clock. I won't forget, sir.'

Kut al Amara, Sunday 2nd January 1916

‘You're picking up a fair collection of scars. Out to impress your lady with tall tales of hard fought battles, Smythe?' John Mason quipped as he passed him and Knight in the officers' aid station.

‘If I ever see her again,' Peter moaned.

‘No defeatist talk allowed.' John filled a bowl with water from a jug and proceeded to scrub his hands.

‘Only officers to hear it.'

‘Officers as depressed as the ranks, despite the dictates of the brass that it's our duty to bolster morale.' Knight was attempting to tweeze a bone fragment from Peter Smythe's shoulder that had proved stubborn when the wound had first been dressed. ‘How's Cleck-Heaton?' he asked John.

‘Sitting up. Uncommunicative.' John reached for a towel.

‘Must be difficult to say “thank you for saving my life” to a man you wanted shot.' Peter winced when Knight dug too deeply.

‘Sirs,' John's orderly Dira appeared at the door. ‘Stretcher-bearers have brought in a sepoy with a head wound.'

‘Take over here, John. I'll go to the Indian hospital.'

‘Any reason, Knight?'

‘You've only half an hour of your shift to go and I've just come on duty. Besides, this bone splinter is proving more elusive than the carp in my father's lake.' Knight handed John the tweezers and left the chair. ‘Snipers busy, Dira?'

‘No more than usual, Sahib sir, but from the casualty lists it seems they prefer to aim at the English and Indian officers, than at the ranks, sir.'

‘Wipe that grin off your face, Dira, before the brass suggest you change uniforms with us.'

Dira's smile broadened. ‘Yes, sir, Sahib Knight.'

John sat on the stool Knight had vacated and dipped the tweezers into a cup of antiseptic. ‘You need to keep this wound clean, Smythe. Get it dressed here night and morning.'

‘It's infected?'

‘It's looking messy.'