by Peter Watt
Harry turned to the terrified fisherman and spoke with him.
‘He says the men are bandits well known on this part of the coast. They take what they want – and that includes the women.’
‘So they are not sepoy rebels,’ Ian said. ‘We have only one choice and that is to kill them all and let none get away. We have surprise and firepower on our side.’
‘Do you mean we fight them?’ Harry asked, open-mouthed.
‘I strongly suggest you unholster your pistols, Mr Sinclair, and prepare to use them,’ Ian said, pulling back the hammer of his Colts. ‘We burst out on my order and start shooting as fast as we can until they are all dead. Any questions?’
The husband and wife clung together, huddled in the corner of the hut with absolute fear written on their faces. Ian took another peek at the approaching party of bandits, noting that they were armed with ancient muskets and long knives. They appeared relaxed and were even joking together as they came within ten paces of the hut. One of the men called out, and Ian guessed that he was the leader of the party.
‘He is calling to the fisherman to come out with his wife,’ Harry whispered, his trembling hands gripping his pistols.
‘Get ready,’ Ian said softly. ‘Now!’
Ian was the first to burst out from behind the flimsy door, firing as he did so. Conan quickly followed, and behind him, Harry. Ian’s first round brought down the bandit who had called out, and the man fell backwards as the .36 calibre lead ball took him in the chest. Such was the surprise of the attack that the rest of the party were momentarily frozen in their confusion, and Conan’s rounds caused others to topple as each ball found a target. Only one man was able to raise his musket and fire wildly. A round from Harry took him out, and within seconds the sandy stretch in front of the hut was covered in bodies. Satisfied that the ten men were dead, Ian quickly reloaded, as did Conan.
‘Time for us to get moving,’ Ian said as the fisherman tumbled from the hut to stare wide-eyed at the mass of bodies in front of his hut. He spoke rapidly to Harry.
‘What is he saying?’ Ian asked.
‘He is thanking us for saving him and his wife, and he says he will tell anyone who asks how they were killed that it was another bandit gang known in this district.’
The fisherman grasped Ian’s knees, tears in his eyes, babbling his thanks, and Ian felt that the man could be trusted to keep their secret.
The trio checked their clothing and faces to make sure their disguise still held, then used the falling darkness to follow their course to a village a couple of miles away. They were to make contact at a specific house at the edge of the town marked with a painted red crescent on the door. Ian had Conan and Harry run for a while, then walk, followed by another run to put distance between themselves and the coast.
After a couple of exhausting hours he ordered a stop two hundred yards short of the village. They slumped to the grassy earth, getting their breathing under control. Each man took a long swig of water from his canteen, and after a few minutes Ian turned to Conan and Harry. ‘I will leave you two here and reconnoitre the village. If I don’t return, you are to make your way back to the coast and await the navy’s pick-up.’
Harry and Conan accepted the order and Ian stood and walked towards the village.
‘We had a close call back there,’ Harry said. ‘We were lucky to survive.’
‘Luck is when you are charging the enemy across no-man’s-land,’ Conan said. ‘Musket balls and grapeshot do not discriminate. At the hut, Captain Forbes knew exactly what he was doing and he decided the odds were on our side.’
‘My brother always spoke highly of Captain Forbes,’ said Harry. ‘Said that he was born to be a soldier.’
‘If you only knew,’ Conan chuckled. ‘There is more to Captain Forbes than any man will really know.’
They peered into the night until the darkness completely swallowed the figure of Ian Steele making his way cautiously into the village.
*
Far away in England Charles Forbes was once again in the private investigator’s office.
‘The man that I wish to meet is now going under another name,’ Charles said. ‘I would presume that this Mr Ian Steele has had help to forge a new identity.’
‘Quite so,’ Field answered. ‘Whoever your man is, he must have contacts in London who have been helping him.’
‘The man I seek I suspect to be my half-brother, Samuel, using the fictitious name of Ian Steele or John Wilford. It is vital that I confront him.’
‘May I ask why?’ Field asked.
‘I think Samuel has hired a man to substitute for him in my grandfather’s regiment. By doing so, and if this man completes ten years’ service, Samuel will be able to claim his equal share of the family estates. As you can gather, he is doing this by fraudulent means, and if I can prove this he will no longer have a claim.’
‘Ah, money,’ Field said. ‘One of the principal reasons for murder – along with love and revenge. I pray that you do not wish to do your half-brother any mischief when we find him.’
‘Nothing of that nature will be necessary,’ Charles said. ‘Samuel will be exposed before the law and the matter of his inheritance curtailed.’
‘That is good because I will not be party to anything unlawful. I know of a forger who may have assisted this man.’
‘Who might that be?’ Charles asked.
‘A fellow by the name of Ikey Solomon. Our paths crossed when I was with the police. He has a somewhat fearsome reputation in the city’s underworld and it is not wise to get on the wrong side of him. He has an office not far from here, and for a few pounds might be willing to discuss the matter with us.’
‘I am prepared to pay if you think he could help us,’ Charles said.
‘If that is so, we might be able to meet with him now if that is convenient to you,’ Field said and Charles agreed.
The office was within walking distance and the two men found themselves confronted by a burly and dangerous-looking man at the entrance to the building.
‘Hello, Egbert,’ Field said. ‘I see that you are still working for Ikey.’
‘Mr Field,’ Egbert said with a note of respect. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I have a financial matter to discuss with Mr Solomon,’ Field said. ‘If you would do me the courtesy of taking me to him.’
Egbert told them to wait, then after a couple of minutes returned to usher them inside. It was obvious that the former detective inspector still had a reputation amongst London’s underworld.
Egbert knocked on a door and a voice bade them enter.
Field stepped inside first, followed by Charles and Egbert.
Ikey did not bother to rise from behind his desk. ‘Detective Inspector, a pleasure, I am sure, that you should visit my humble establishment. What can I do for you?’
Although he had not been offered a chair, Field found one, sat down and placed his hat on his lap. ‘Ikey, I would like to introduce you to Mr Charles Forbes. He has a proposition for you that comes with a generous financial reward.’
‘Charles Forbes,’ Ikey said. ‘Are you any relation to Captain Samuel Forbes?’
‘Do you know my brother?’ Charles asked, surprised that the Jewish businessman with the dangerous reputation would know Samuel, as Ikey belonged to a class of people no member of the Forbes family ought to mix with.
‘I do. A fine gentleman.’
‘What if I said that the man you think is my brother, Samuel Forbes, is an imposter?’ Charles said, and noticed Ikey Solomon shift in his chair.
‘I am sure you must be mistaken, Mr Forbes,’ Ikey replied mildly.
‘The brother I knew was a shy dreamer who desired a life as a poet. Does that sound like the man you know as Captain Forbes?’
Ikey did not respond to the question but leaned forward toward
s Charles. ‘I was informed that you came here with an offer to pay me generously for my services,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you want.’
‘We want to know if any of your acquaintances have been involved in forging identity documents for one John Wilford,’ Field said. ‘If you do, Mr Forbes will pay for that information.’
‘Forgery is a serious crime, as you well know, Mr Field,’ Ikey said. ‘I am an honest businessman.’
‘Mr Forbes is prepared to pay well,’ Field reminded him. ‘I am sure as a businessman in this part of the city you must have heard something about such criminal people.’
‘I am sorry, Mr Forbes,’ Ikey said. ‘I cannot help you. Mr Field has the wrong man for such information.’
Field rose from his chair, replaced his top hat and gestured to Charles to follow him.
‘We will bid you a good day, Mr Solomon,’ Field said, walking to the door with Charles in tow. ‘If you do come across such intelligence in the future, I am sure Mr Forbes’ offer will still stand.’
Ikey did not get up as the two men left his office. He frowned. Was the man he knew as Captain Samuel Forbes an imposter? If so, he had allowed his one and only precious daughter to be escorted to a ball by the man. It was time to make his own enquiries into Captain Samuel Forbes – whoever he was.
*
On the street, a small shower promised to become a heavy downfall. Charles and Field hurried back to the private investigator’s office.
‘Well, that proved to be fruitless,’ Charles said irritably.
‘I would not be so sure of that,’ Field said. ‘My copper instincts tell me that it is Ikey who is helping your brother, and who is in contact with the man you consider a charlatan. We learned all that without you having to spend a penny of any reward. At least I have a point to work from, but I must caution you, Mr Forbes, it will be expensive to bring to heel the two you believe are defrauding your family.’
‘Money is not a consideration, Mr Field. The honour of the Forbes name is at stake,’ Charles said in the most righteous tone he could muster.
‘Ah, yes, family honour,’ Field echoed with a knowing smirk.
*
Ian could hear the occasional barking of the village dogs that prowled the empty streets and lanes. He crouched, counting the buildings as per the sketch map he carried, until he settled on one that bordered the flat grass-covered plain from which he was making his observations. Amongst Ian’s briefing was the information that his contact was a former Russian army officer. Ian was baffled by this as it was well known that the Tsar of Russia had ambitions to control the Indian subcontinent. Why would a former Russian army officer be assisting the British? Ian shrugged and crept forward to the mud-walled house, pistols in hands, to see the red crescent sign on the door.
Very gently he eased open the door, but it still creaked on it rusty hinges. Every nerve in his body was on edge.
‘Hail Caesar,’ Ian said, the code to be used to identify himself to the contact.
‘Et tu, Brute,’ a voice said softly from within the darkness of the tiny house.
Satisfied at the response, Ian stepped inside the hut, pistols raised. A light flared from a lantern. It took a few seconds for his sight to adjust and when it did he found himself mere paces from the Russian, who was pointing a British-manufactured revolver straight at him. The two men stared into each other’s faces and the shock was mutual.
‘You!’ Ian hissed.
The Russian nodded incredulously.
Nineteen
By the dim light of the lantern the two men faced each other, pistols drawn.
‘I think I wished you well the last time we faced each other in the Crimea,’ the tall, handsome man said with a slow smile, lowering his revolver. ‘It is like an act of God’s humour that we should meet again under these circumstances.’
Ian lowered his guns. ‘I must apologise but I have forgotten your name since we met during that truce,’ he said. ‘I am Captain Samuel Forbes of Her Majesty’s London Regiment.’
‘I remember your name, Captain Forbes. I am Count Nikolai Kasatkin, formerly of the Tsar’s army,’ the Russian said without extending his hand. ‘I presume by the code you gave that you are on a mission to retrieve the Khan and his family.’
‘I am,’ Ian said. ‘The rest of the rescue party is a short distance from here, but first I am curious as to why a representative of the Tsar should be found in India when we well know that the Tsar has ambitions for this part of Her Majesty’s Empire.’
‘Good question, Captain Forbes, and I think it is worth an honest answer. I am working for the British Foreign Office, not for the Tsar. My allegiance has changed for personal reasons. One might say that an indiscretion in Moscow is not forgotten when one is a Jew, and as far as the Tsar’s government is concerned, I am here to negotiate a deal with the Khan for a precious metal both Russia and England need for waging war.’
‘What metal?’ Ian asked.
‘Lead,’ Nikolai replied. ‘The Khan has maps to potential rich lodes of lead in his district and is prepared to sell to us at a reasonable price. I was selected by my former masters to make contact as I speak the Indian language. It gave me the opportunity to correspond with friends in England I knew as a young student at Oxford. That was before we faced each other in that terrible war that cost us the Crimea.’
‘I cannot see how an officer of the Tsar would turn traitor,’ Ian said.
‘I am a Russian but I am also a Jew, and my people are being persecuted in Russia. I have been granted British sanctuary on the condition that I use my position to encourage the Khan to go with us to England, where he can be convinced to turn over his mining rights to the East India Company. It is really the board of the East India Company that I deal with in this matter.’
‘Never let a little mutiny get in the way of business,’ Ian said with a wry smile. ‘So, you and I find ourselves in this place at this time to assist the Company in rescuing a future trading partner.’
‘It seems so,’ the Russian count replied with a faint smile. ‘Upon a successful outcome to our mutual mission I will able to purchase property discreetly through contacts in the London Jewish community.’
‘One of those contacts would not be a man by the name of Ikey Solomon, would it?’ Ian said on a hunch, and saw utter surprise cross the Russian’s face.
‘How do you know Ikey Solomon?’ he asked.
‘I have had dealings with the man in the past,’ Ian replied.
‘I have never met him,’ Nikolai said. ‘Is he a good man?’
‘He is – if you don’t cross him,’ Ian said. ‘Now, I will signal to my men to join us.’ Ian stepped outside with the lantern and waved it gently and was soon joined by Conan and Harry.
They stepped inside the hut and eyed the tall stranger with suspicion.
‘Count Kasatkin, this is Sergeant Major Curry and Lieutenant Sinclair, both of my company.’
‘It is just the three of you,’ Nikolai said, shaking his head. ‘I was expecting at least a regiment to carry out the task of rescuing the Khan and his family.’
‘You were allocated a company of my infantrymen but I decided that it was more discreet to use only the three of us, considering that this can be considered hostile territory and a large force of red-coated infantry would have drawn more attention than would be comfortable.’
For a moment the Russian pondered on Ian’s choice. ‘Probably a wise tactical decision,’ he finally replied. ‘I have been able to remain alive amongst the population because some of the leaders of the mutiny in this area believe I am here working for the Tsar to supply them with arms and ammunition. So for the moment I am safe, but I fear the mutiny leaders grow suspicious as I have not been able to fulfil my promise to provide arms. They watch me closely, but at night they prefer to remain at their camp outside the village.’
‘Sir, wh
at is going on?’ Harry asked, confused that a Russian would be in league with them.
‘Trust me, this man has his reasons to be on our side,’ Ian said. ‘If not, we will kill him.’
The count raised his eyebrows but smiled grimly. ‘Another sound tactical decision, Captain Forbes,’ he said, producing a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Vodka,’ he added, taking a swig, and handing it to Ian. ‘We toast the success of our mission.’ When Ian had taken a swig, he handed it to Conan and then on to Harry.
When the bottle was returned to Nikolai he raised it. ‘Another toast to the friends who lie in the earth of the Crimea – Russian, British – and maybe even the French.’
The men drank another toast and then Nikolai placed the bottle on a rickety table. The room was bare: a wooden table, chair and what looked like a bed on the floor. It smelled of cattle dung, smoke and aromatic spices. It had only one entrance and a small open window for ventilation.
The count laid a small sheet of crumpled paper on the table and pulled the lantern closer. The rescue party gathered around the sketch map of the village.
‘The Khan is living under the disguise of a Bengali merchant in this house,’ the Russian said, pointing to a place on the map. Ian could see that it was on the other side of the village, and marked nearby was the mutineers’ camp. ‘I have made contact with him under the guise of purchasing goods, and he is aware that we will be coming for him at any moment. We reach him and take him, his wife and young son with us to the rendezvous point I presume you have established, Captain Forbes.’
‘We have a place established on the coast and a plan for evacuation,’ Ian said, gazing at the map and taking in all the places marked on it.
‘Given the way you are disguised, we should not attract undue attention in the village,’ Nikolai said.
Ian turned to Conan and Harry. He could see the fear on the young officer’s face. ‘Are you up to this, Mr Sinclair?’ Ian asked.
‘I am, sir,’ Harry answered. ‘But I must admit that I am a little fearful.’
‘Good,’ Ian said. ‘As Sarn’t Major Curry will tell you, he felt the same way when he won his Victoria Cross.’ He grinned. ‘It is time to go, so check your arms.’