by Peter Watt
Ian met with Conan on the deck. ‘Did the Khan reward you?’ Conan asked.
‘He did, and he will also reward you with riches well beyond anything the army can pay you in the next ten years,’ Ian replied, displaying the handful of glittering stones. ‘We will split the money we receive four ways, as is our custom.’
‘Four ways?’ Conan queried.
‘Yes, a share will go to Molly,’ Ian replied.
‘Yes, it is only fair,’ Conan agreed. ‘Our situation may look dire from time to time, but at least I am making more money as a soldier in the Queen’s army than I would have made back home in a lifetime of robbing travellers.’
Ian grinned. ‘Soldiering has made an honest man of you, Conan Curry.’
Twenty-two
Samuel felt trapped. He had come so close to being exposed by Charles and now, hiding out in yet another London boarding house with James, he knew that they must get out of England. This time their accommodation was less salubrious but cash payment meant no questions as to their identities.
The room he shared with James felt like a prison cell. It was barely an attic but it was a place that would not attract Charles’ attention as it catered to workers from out of London and not those of aristocratic breeding.
‘We have to do something,’ James said. ‘I think I will go mad if we remain in this place.’
‘There is nothing stopping you from returning to New York,’ Samuel said, pacing the small room. ‘My brother is not hunting you.’
James walked over to Samuel. ‘You know I would never leave you,’ he said gently. ‘We face this situation together.’
Samuel smiled sadly, touching James’ cheek. ‘I love you and it pains me to see you caught up in a mess of my making.’
‘I think our best option to leave England is for us to make contact with that Jewish man. He seems to have the ability to help us.’
‘Mr Solomon,’ Samuel said. ‘I do not completely trust him. He is a criminal whose main ambition in life is to make money. He has no reason to be our friend.’
‘If money is his friend, I can pay,’ James replied.
Samuel slumped on one of the single beds and sighed. He knew James was right. They were trapped and the dubious Jewish businessman was their only hope.
*
Charles Field had been paid enough money by his generous client, Charles Forbes, to hire a network of immigration officials at London’s seaports, and even a round-the-clock surveillance of Ikey Solomon’s office. Like a spider at the centre of a web, Field was able to respond to any filament that might vibrate, indicating the fly had been caught. He had no personal animosity to the man he hunted; it was purely business. But he did have a personal stake in the case. Ikey Solomon had always been able to thumb his nose at the police, and Field, when he’d been a detective inspector, had repeatedly failed to have him put away. Here he was presented with an opportunity to catch his old adversary in the illegal act of aiding and abetting a man falsely pretending to be someone else. Catching Ikey Solomon would be the icing on the cake of an already highly lucrative case.
*
Samuel and James arrived in the afternoon at Ikey’s office and were met at the door by Egbert. They explained that they wished to speak with his boss and were prepared to pay for the consultation. Egbert left them and went upstairs while Samuel and James remained nervously on the street, glancing at the people passing by.
‘Mr Solomon says he will see you,’ Egbert said and the three men climbed the stairs to the office. They were ushered in and found Ikey standing by a window peering out over the city’s rooftops. Smoke spouted from the many chimney and a lay like a blanket across the city.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Ikey, turning around. ‘I did not expect to see you back in London after all my hard work in assisting you to leave for New York. I have since had a visit from a Charles Forbes purporting to be your brother, and my old friend, Inspector Field. Why are you trying to pull the wool over my eyes, Mr Steele? I am not a man who has much patience for people lying to me.’
‘It is a long story, Mr Solomon,’ Samuel said. ‘I am sure you are a man who is too busy for stories, but if you help us leave England once again – a kindness we will pay for generously – I can promise we will not return.’
‘The man who recommended my services to you, Captain Samuel Forbes, is a man I thought I could trust in a world of lying scoundrels. But is it true that you are the real Samuel Forbes and that he is in fact Mr Ian Steele?’
‘Would it matter if it were?’ Samuel countered.
‘I need you to be straight with me,’ Ikey replied. ‘As I said, I do not like being lied to.’
‘I can vouch for the integrity of Ian Steele, the man you know as Captain Forbes. I assure you the reason he and I switched places is quite separate from our dealings with you,’ Samuel said. ‘Now, my friend and I need to get out of England as soon as –’
Suddenly Egbert burst through the door. ‘Mr Solomon, one of those kids hanging around across the street has run off.’
‘Gone to get Mr Field, no doubt,’ Ikey said. ‘You don’t have much time,’ he said to Samuel and James, ‘and you won’t be leaving through the front entrance.’ He leaned over his desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper, thrusting it at Samuel.
‘This is the person you will contact in the future if you require my services,’ he said. ‘Do not attempt to contact me here. I do not wish for any more attention from Inspector Field. Now, follow me.’
Samuel slipped the scrap of paper into his trouser pocket and hurried after Ikey. He and James were led down a hallway with empty offices either side until they reached the end, where Ikey seemed to magically make the wall slide sideways, revealing a set of steps down into the dark.
‘Go down there and follow the tunnel until you get to a fork, then turn left. This will take you out behind this building to an empty warehouse. You can then leave without being seen on this side of the street.’
Samuel and James did not question Ikey, who quickly closed the sliding door behind them, throwing them into pitch blackness. Very carefully, the two men inched down the steps, touching the wall for balance as they went. In the dark they could hear rats scurrying away from their footsteps. It was obvious that this was a last-measure escape route from Ikey’s building and rarely used. It stank of sewage and must. A dim light glowed ahead from an overhead manhole in the street, and when they came to the fork they took the left-hand turn and found themselves inside a small warehouse frequented only by pigeons and spiders.
‘This way,’ James whispered.
They walked to the door which led out onto the street. It took a few moments to orient themselves but both men walked casually along until they located a familiar side street that would direct them back to their lodgings.
When they were safely in their attic room, Samuel removed the slip of paper from his pocket. He read the name of the middleman who was to be their contact with Mr Solomon. But it was not a man, Samuel noted with surprise. It was a woman by the name of Miss Molly Williams, confectioner.
*
Henry Havelock, now a general in the Queen’s army, had received the telegram that Cawnpore had fallen to the rebels and that the majority of the British civilians – men, women and children – had been massacred by sepoy troops. Those who had survived the initial slaughter under a flag of truce were rounded up and ordered to be killed. But even the mutinous Indian soldiers refused to carry out the order, so butchers were employed to kill the surviving civilians, dismembering the bodies as they would sheep or goats.
The general had a secret fund to pay local spies, and his intelligence service was a well-oiled machine. He pored over one report from a loyal Indian shopkeeper who provided his staff the mutineer’s numbers and dispositions in the Cawnpore region.
‘Sir, Captain Forbes is outside as you requested,’ a major o
f his staff said through the tent flap of Havelock’s field HQ.
‘Bid him enter,’ Havelock said, pushing away from the field table and standing to receive Ian.
Ian stepped inside, saluted smartly and stood to attention.
Havelock thrust out his hand, surprising Ian.
‘My hand in gratitude is about all I can offer you, Captain Forbes, for successfully rescuing the Khan.’
‘I was doing my duty, sir,’ Ian replied as he let go the firm grip.
‘I have been informed by General Outram that you continually prove your courage and resourcefulness. It should be you commanding your regiment and not that popinjay, Jenkins. As it is, I will be sending your regiment in the advance on Cawnpore. Colonel Jenkins has been given his orders to help provide reinforcements there.’
‘Sir, I can promise you that the regiment will gather glory in any contact we have with the mutinous sepoys,’ Ian said.
‘I know it will with officers such as yourself in command of the men.’ Havelock sighed. ‘I also have information on the welfare and whereabouts of the surgeon you wrote to my headquarters about. Dr Campbell and his wife are well, and with the contingent we have outside the walls of Delhi. I even heard a rumour that Mrs Campbell successfully carried out surgery, amputating limbs. However, I know that could not be true as she is a woman, and we both know such a gory procedure is beyond the sensibilities of a delicate English lady.’
Ian could see that the general had the hint of a smile on his face and sensed Havelock believed the rumours to be true. ‘My sister is a remarkable lady, sir,’ Ian said diplomatically.
‘Last reports said that she and Dr Campbell have been carrying out their duties under rather arduous conditions, so hopefully we will recapture the city soon.’
‘Sir, my gratitude for your enquiries,’ Ian said. ‘Cawnpore is on the road to Delhi, and I hope that I soon have the opportunity to meet with them.’
‘First Cawnpore and then Delhi,’ Havelock said with a nod.
Ian left the tent and marched back to the regiment’s lines nearby where he was met by his company sergeant major whose gloomy expression said it all.
‘Sir,’ said Conan, ‘the commanding officer desires to meet with you immediately.’
‘How could I guess,’ Ian sighed.
Ian made his way to the regimental HQ tent where he was saluted by the two soldiers on guard. A young officer appointed to Jenkins’ staff stepped out of the tent and also saluted. Ian returned the salute.
‘Sir, the colonel will see you now,’ the young officer said, ushering him inside.
Ian saluted and stood to attention. ‘Sir, you wished to see me?’
Jenkins rose from his desk and stood with his hands behind his back. From the scowl on his face Ian knew things were not going to go well for him.
‘I have finished speaking with your second-in-command, Mr Sinclair, and your CSM about the mysterious rescue mission General Outram sent you on, and neither would divulge any information. They said they had been sworn to secrecy and only you were authorised to speak about it. As your commanding officer I am now ordering you to give me a full report on the matter.’
‘Sir, with all due respect, I think you should first speak to General Havelock before I comply with your request,’ Ian answered, and noticed the scowl on his commanding officer’s face deepen.
‘I am not about to disturb the general as he is a busy man,’ Jenkins said in frustration.
‘I am not sure of that, sir,’ Ian said smugly. ‘I have just come from his HQ and he had time to have a chat with me.’ He knew his statement would take the wind out of Jenkins’ sails.
‘You are insolent, Captain Forbes,’ Jenkins snarled. ‘And you appear to have the luck of the devil on your side. I won’t be forgetting your arrogant behaviour. You are dismissed.’
Ian saluted, turned on his heel and marched out of the tent with a smile on his face.
Twenty-three
Samuel had developed a nervous tic at the corner of his eye, and the strain of remaining in the nondescript boarding house in London was taking a toll on his relationship with James. James had snapped that they may as well be living in a cage, and Samuel felt the guilt of having dragged him into this game of cat and mouse with his brother.
Right now James was out purchasing a newspaper, so Samuel wrote a note to inform him that he would be away for a short time. He did not want to cause the man he loved any more anguish if he should be caught.
Samuel slipped out of the boarding house, hailed a hansom cab and directed the driver to Molly’s shop in a better part of London. As he walked through the door he was assailed by the pleasant scent of confectionary. Behind the counter, weighing out bags of boiled lollies, was a young woman, barely into her teens.
‘Miss Molly Williams?’ Samuel asked.
‘No. The mistress is in her office,’ the girl said with a pleasant smile.
‘May I speak with her?’ Samuel asked politely.
The girl looked him up and down. ‘I will see if Miss Williams is taking visitors.’
She disappeared and a minute later returned. ‘Miss Williams wishes to know who is requesting to speak with her and on what business.’
‘I am an acquaintance of Mr Ikey Solomon and he gave me Miss Williams’ name,’ Samuel said, and the girl disappeared and this time returned with a young woman with a pretty face and firm figure. For a moment Molly stared at Samuel with a look of both confusion and recognition.
‘You can come to my office,’ Molly said. ‘May I ask your name, sir?’
‘Hubert Smith,’ Samuel improvised.
Molly led him into a small office piled with stores for the shop. She closed the door behind them and gestured to a chair near her overflowing desk.
‘You are not Mr Smith, but I suspect that you are one Samuel Forbes,’ Molly said. ‘Your resemblance to Ian Steele is remarkable.’
Samuel was taken off guard by this woman’s recognition and the mention of Ian’s real identity.
‘How did you know?’ Samuel asked.
‘My man told me the story of how you and Captain Steele traded places,’ Molly said. ‘Captain Steele is a wonderful and remarkable man, and his secret is safe with me. Now, Ikey Solomon sent you to me for a reason.’
‘I need some assistance to leave England,’ said Samuel, ‘and as soon as possible.’
‘I see,’ Molly said. ‘It is well known on the streets that you are being sought by Inspector Field’s investigative service, and from my knowledge of Inspector Field, he is a man who always solves his cases.’
‘I am a little confused as to how a lady of your standing knows the likes of Mr Solomon. You appear to be a successful person in your own business.’
‘It is a long story, but I once worked for Ikey as his bookkeeper, and he looked out for me, so now I try to repay that kindness by returning a favour when I can. Ikey is a good man, despite what some might say about him. Now, we should get down to business.
‘Field is meticulous, so we have to presume he has all the ports covered with his spies.’ Molly looked thoughtful. ‘But probably not those ports in Wales,’ she concluded. ‘I know people there who can smuggle you aboard a ship leaving one of the Welsh ports, but you will need money.’
‘We have money,’ Samuel replied. ‘Our fate is in your hands, Miss Williams.’
‘I am not doing this for your sake,’ Molly said. ‘I am doing this to ensure that Captain Steele’s real identity is not revealed. While you remain in England you put him in jeopardy. Come back to my shop tomorrow night after I close and I will have something arranged.’
Samuel thanked her and purchased a bag of Turkish delight on the way out. Feeling much relieved, he stepped onto the street and was fortunate to hail a passing hansom cab.
*
Havelock’s intelligence service informed
him that a leader by the name of Nana Sahib had emerged after the defeat of the Cawnpore garrison. The Moslem leader had declared himself Peishwa of the Mahrattas. This self-proclaimed sovereign had almost destroyed a smaller force of British soldiers under a Major Renaud’s command as they advanced towards Cawnpore. Now he aimed to take the city of Allahabad and then advance on Calcutta where he would establish his Moghul dynasty.
The British general knew from reports that the self-proclaimed Peishwa had at least three and a half thousand well-trained sepoy infantry, reinforced with eager recruits, and had many artillery guns taken from the British. Opposed to his force were a mere four hundred British troops and three hundred untested Sikh soldiers, as well as a small force of irregular cavalry. Havelock’s great fear was that the Sikh troops might desert when they made contact with the vastly larger enemy force confronting them. Major Renaud, who had survived the slaughter of his troops, knew he was faced with a terrible decision, but it was one that had to be made. Did he withdraw his outnumbered force, or would he command it to stand and fight?
The decision was made to stand and fight the superior force.
*
The blistering sun was taking a toll on Ian’s men. This was the time of year when the sun would appear in the Indian skies between downpours of monsoonal rain to savage everything below with its blazing rays.
The column had trudged through a dismal landscape of stunted trees and shimmering plains with Ian at the vanguard of his company. Before they’d left, Colonel Jenkins had feigned great disappointment that only Ian’s company and not the whole regiment would be joining the attack on Cawnpore, but the cowardly colonel’s relief at avoiding combat was palpable. Rumours already abounded that the small force marching towards Cawnpore would encounter a large number of enemy and likely be massacred.
They had marched fifteen miles under the unforgiving sun and Ian could see that his company was flagging. The oxen carts creaked behind the column, filled with men struck down with heatstroke, and even the army medical staff begged the column’s commander to rest the men. But Major Renaud chose to push on, until finally the sun set across the dreary plains of scrub and the men were given orders to pitch tents and rest.