‘Tom knows an old soldier here; Subahdar Tor Khan. He’s been helping us too.’
Lydia looked guilt-ridden. ‘Tom has risked his life to come and rescue me?’
‘Yes, he has. And he’s defied the authorities to come here.’ Esmie held her look. ‘But he wants to know why you left Taha on your own – we all do.’
Lydia glanced away and began nibbling the chocolate. ‘It was just a spur of the moment thing – I went for a drive on a whim. I know I should have told you but I didn’t think I would be gone long.’
Esmie said quietly, ‘You know that’s not true. You were making for Razmak and Dickie, weren’t you? You took clothes and the padre’s map to help you get there.’
Lydia’s shoulders sagged. After a long pause she said, ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to Pindi and that bloody hotel.’ She gave a despairing look. ‘Yet for the past week I’ve been cursing myself for ever leaving Pindi in the first place.’
Esmie put a hand on her arm. ‘You’ll be back in Pindi soon, I’m sure of it.’
Lydia clutched at her hand, suddenly agitated. ‘I don’t know how you can bear it here at the Frontier. I hate it and the people are loathsome! You must get me out of here. Please, Esmie, you won’t leave without me, will you?’
‘Of course I won’t leave you, I promise.’ Esmie hid her own doubt that she would be allowed to go freely now that she was inside the gang’s fortress. Or if she was, she could not be sure that she would be permitted to take Lydia with her. But she kept such fears to herself. ‘Now, let’s check your feet and ankle.’
Esmie noticed that despite Lydia’s contempt for local costume, she had permitted Zakir to lend her woollen socks with leather soles to replace her ruined shoes. Hearing Malik return, she called him in.
‘Did you find anything of interest?’
He shrugged. ‘The house is mostly abandoned and you can see daylight through some of the walls – but it is too high up to jump to safety.’
Esmie nodded. ‘Let’s hope it won’t come to that.’ She beckoned him closer. ‘You can help me bathe and treat Lomax Mem’s lacerated feet and strap up her swollen left ankle.’
Lydia looked at him in suspicion.
‘I don’t want him near me,’ she said, shrinking back.
‘Malik is my most able orderly and I trust him with my life,’ Esmie reassured her. ‘He didn’t have to come on our mission but he did so to help you. There are many Pathans who are risking their lives for you – don’t forget that.’
Lydia looked contrite. ‘Yes, I see that. I’m sorry if I was rude.’
They set about their task, Zakir bringing the fresh water that Esmie requested. He hovered near the door, humming under his breath. Esmie’s heart went out to him. She suspected that Lydia would be in a far worse condition if it had not been for the young Otmanzai looking after her.
Esmie took her time, methodically checking Lydia over, taking her temperature and pulse, examining her eyes, ears and throat. One eye looked bloodshot and sore, so she gave her drops. All the while, she talked to her calmly, trying to distract her with small talk about life in the zenana and describing the weather.
Lydia responded to the welcome attention. ‘I’ll be fine once I’ve had a decent wash and can put on clean clothes. I’ve been dreaming of a warm bath. It gets freezing here at night.’
Half an hour later, Baram Wali was bellowing down the stairs for Zakir. Abruptly, the boy stopped singing and looked apprehensively at Esmie.
‘I’ll go with you,’ she assured him.
Lydia gripped her. ‘You can’t leave me here. Don’t go.’
‘I’ll come back,’ Esmie promised. ‘Malik will stay and protect you while I see what’s happening.’
With a thumping heart, Esmie retraced her steps to the main room, Zakir at her heels. There was an even greater tension in the room than before, the men eyeing her with hostility.
‘Why were you taking so long?’ Baram Wali demanded.
‘Lomax Memsahib needed treatment,’ Esmie said calmly. She cast around the room. ‘Where is Mullah Mahmud?’
The men shifted and muttered. Baram Wali said, ‘He had to go.’
‘Go?’ Esmie asked, stunned. ‘Where to?’
The leader gave an evasive wave. ‘Mullah Zada summoned him.’
Esmie was suddenly suspicious. ‘He wouldn’t have gone without me and Malik – not without saying anything. Where is he?’
Baram Wali advanced on her, glaring. He thrust his face at hers, his sour breath overwhelming. ‘Don’t speak to me like that, feringhi whore! You should never have come here. We won’t rest until every last one of you British is chased off our land back to India!’
Argument broke out among the men behind. Baram Wali swung round and shouted them down.
‘It is decided! The feringhi nurse stays here until they give us the money we want. If they were stupid enough to send her to us, then they are stupid enough to pay what we ask.’
The younger round-faced man protested, ‘But the mullah?’
‘He’ll do as he’s told,’ snapped Karo’s husband.
‘Is he still here?’ Esmie demanded.
‘Shut up!’
‘What have you done to him?’ Esmie was appalled to think that these men might have mistreated the holy man. If they had, then how much worse might they be towards her and Lydia?
‘Please tell me you haven’t harmed Mullah Mahmud?’ Esmie cried. ‘I demand to see him.’
‘You will demand nothing,’ the older gang member shouted, his look venomous.
‘You will have to let us go,’ Esmie persisted. ‘You are just a handful of men against many. Most of the Otmanzai are on our side. Imagine what they will do when they hear you have imprisoned the mullah too?’
‘She’s right,’ said the plump-faced younger man. ‘We must let the mullah go.’
‘Be quiet!’ hissed the old man. ‘That mullah has no authority here. He consorts with the infidel.’
Esmie, heart pounding, appealed to the wavering captor. ‘If we don’t return to Mirza Ali’s tonight, he will send out a force against you. I have told his guard to go for help—’
‘They have gone,’ Baram Wali cut her off. ‘No one is watching out for you. Mirza Ali is as keen to get money out of the feringhi as we are.’
Esmie felt nauseated. ‘I don’t believe you. He wants those prisoners released.’
‘Prisoners and money,’ Baram Wali said with a grim smile. ‘Now you are our guest until we get what we want.’ He cuffed Zakir. ‘Don’t give me that look. Take the feringhi back to the cell and make sure both of them stay there.’
Zakir reached out and took Esmie by the sleeve, his eyes beseeching. She stumbled after him, too shocked to make a fuss.
Malik took the news of their captivity with his usual phlegmatic calm but Lydia broke down weeping.
‘I don’t believe Mirza Ali is part of this plot over money,’ Esmie said. ‘He thinks he can control this gang to get his prisoner exchange but he’s wrong.’
‘I agree,’ said Malik. ‘His men might still be out there for all we know. We can’t trust anything Baram Wali says.’
‘The wicked man will do anything to get money,’ Esmie said in disgust. ‘Even keep the mullah prisoner.’
Lydia was distraught. ‘I don’t care about the mullah! What about us? I’ve got money – I’ll pay anything to get out. If I’d understood a word they’d said I would have told them. You must tell them, Esmie. Say I have money!’
‘McCabe wouldn’t allow us to give in to ransom demands – even though Tom came with money. The brigadier was adamant the kidnappers would just keep asking for more and I think now he’s right. These men have no scruples – they’ve lied to the mullahs and broken their promises.’
‘Tom has money with him?’ Lydia seized on this. ‘Then why isn’t he here offering it to these awful men?’
‘Because our Pathan friends have been negotiating with them to accept a prisoner ex
change instead,’ said Esmie. ‘We have to trust that this will still go ahead and that they’ll put pressure on Baram Wali to agree.’
‘And you trust them?’ Lydia cried. ‘I don’t! They’re dirty, greedy savages. Let them have their money.’
‘Lydia,’ Esmie said, trying to calm her, ‘we must be patient. Mirza Ali and the others will come tomorrow if we haven’t returned. Tom will insist on it.’
Lydia tore at her hair and let out a shrill scream. Esmie tried to hug her but her friend was too distressed and pushed her away. ‘I can’t bear it!’ she wailed. ‘I want to go home! I want Mummy!’
Esmie grabbed her and held her tight. Lydia’s thin arms soon lost their strength to resist. She slumped against Esmie, sobbing. Esmie held her and stroked her hair until Lydia was too exhausted to cry any more.
The light was fading from the high window when Malik pulled back the curtain to let Zakir bring in a dish of chickpeas and coarse bread, along with goat’s milk to drink. Something about Malik’s expression alerted Esmie.
‘What is it, Malik?’
Quietly, he said in broken English, ‘Zakir he tell where they hold Mullah Mahmud.’ He pointed at the floor. ‘In room below – old stable, I think.’
‘Is the mullah all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘I haven’t seen him but Zakir he says mullah is tied to post like mule.’
Esmie was indignant. ‘How could they treat him like that? The poor man—’ Abruptly, Esmie gasped. ‘Did you say Zakir spoke to you?’
Malik shrugged. ‘Mostly it is pointing, pointing. But he say few words too. I think he knows this place. I think he try tell me he live here before fire.’
Esmie turned and stared at Zakir who was trying to coax a listless Lydia to drink her milk. Was this Zakir’s former home? It had obviously come under attack or been burnt. Perhaps it was here that his family had perished and that was how he had lost his sanity. If so, Baram Wali was using the situation to his advantage, forcing Zakir to work for him and provide a hideout where no one would come looking. Karo’s husband must have captured Zakir after the attack on Kanki-Khel last December.
A thought struck Esmie. Softly she spoke to the youth. ‘Is this your home, Zakir?’
At first she thought he was ignoring the question. He sat back on his haunches and began to hum. She waited and then asked him, ‘Is this the place where you grew up? Is that why you know where everything is kept? The things you bring for Lomax Memsahib?’
Zakir stopped rocking and met her look. He nodded. Esmie stepped towards him. ‘Zakir, do you know of any other way out of here, apart from climbing through the high window?’
Esmie looked at the boy intently, holding her breath. Again he nodded. She exchanged quick glances with Malik. Her heart began to drum.
‘Where is it?’
The youth gestured with his hands, pointing at the floor.
‘Below here where Mullah Mahmud is?’
Again Zakir nodded.
‘Can you take us there tonight when the others are asleep?’
Zakir studied her with fearful eyes. She thought he would refuse and she would not blame him if he did.
‘Yes,’ he whispered in a hoarse voice.
Esmie’s eyes smarted at his bravery. She took his hands and squeezed them. ‘Thank you for your courage! You must come with us and escape too. I can’t bear the thought of you being with these men any longer. We’ll look after you.’
Esmie was rewarded with a rare smile.
Lydia said, ‘What’s happening? What are you saying?’
Esmie sat down on the charpoy and held her hand. ‘We mustn’t raise our hopes too much but there might be another way out of here.’
The wait was interminable. When dark came, Esmie and Lydia blew out the lamp and sat tensely, holding hands on the charpoy, straining to listen, while Malik lay across the doorway pretending to sleep. Occasional footsteps clattered in the distance and bursts of shouting echoed through the abandoned rooms. At one point, youthful voices grew loud and Esmie feared members of the gang were going to stay and guard them. But on hearing Malik’s ‘snoring’, the youths didn’t stay. They probably thought that two weak women and an unarmed servant would not try and escape.
Gradually the tower became silent. They were too far away from the main room of the kidnappers to hear if they had settled for the night but Esmie knew they just had to trust Zakir to come when he could.
She wondered what had been happening at the Gardan fortress once they realised that the mullah and nurse had not returned. Was Mirza Ali already sending out a rescue party or was he really in league with the kidnappers? Even if he tried to stall for time, Tom and the subahdar would be up in arms and once Mullah Zada heard how the gang had shown their duplicity, he too would be outraged. But how would the desperate warring men upstairs act if they were cornered? It would mean resorting to rescuing Lydia by force and violence – the one thing they had tried to avoid and the reason Esmie had agreed on the dangerous mission in the first place.
She closed her eyes and prayed silently that there would be another way out. Then further doubts beset her. Lydia was so weakened by months of not eating properly and now this ordeal that even if they broke free Esmie feared she would not be strong enough to walk back to Gardan. Would their ponies still be at the fortified house down the mountainside? Pushing negative thoughts from her mind, she concentrated on staying alert. She had decided she must leave behind the cumbersome medical bag and its contents, apart from her small electric torch. She grasped it now in her other hand. Despite the plunging temperature, Esmie’s palms sweated and the torch felt slippery.
Esmie lost track of time. Her watch told her it was nearly one o’clock in the morning but it felt much later. Lydia leaned against her and dozed. Suddenly Malik was in the room and touching her shoulder. Esmie started. She must have dozed too.
‘Guthrie Mem’, Zakir is here,’ he whispered.
She shook Lydia awake. It was pitch black. She turned on her torch and saw Zakir’s anxious face in the doorway. He looked startled by the unusual light, so she handed him the torch and showed him how to use it.
Taking Lydia’s trembling hand, Esmie followed Malik and Zakir. They crept back to the spiral staircase and began to descend. Lydia clung on, making it difficult for Esmie to keep her balance on the narrow steps. Inching down, they stopped for breath at the bottom. Zakir switched off the torch and listened. When no sound came, he turned it on again and they carried on along a low vaulted passageway, which must once have been a place of storage judging by some old mouldering sacks.
A noise startled them. Something scuttled past. Lydia stifled a scream, making Zakir drop the torch in alarm. The clatter of metal on stone echoed around them. Surely someone would hear it? Esmie’s heart hammered as they stopped dead, waiting to see if anyone had been disturbed. She could feel Lydia shaking so she clutched her hand in comfort. No one came. Malik quietly picked up the torch and shone it for Zakir, nodding at the boy to continue. They crept forward once more.
After a few feet, Zakir pointed to a half-open door and they squeezed through the gap, one by one, so as not to make the door creak. Esmie could tell by the smell that they were in a former stable but in the torchlight there was no sign of any animals and an old entrance had been bricked up.
As Malik swept the room with the torch, Esmie gasped. Huddled against the bottom of a pillar, squinting up at them in alarm, was Mullah Mahmud. She went to him quickly.
‘Are you all right?’
He gaped at her. ‘Memsahib . . .’
‘Shhh,’ she said softly. ‘We’ve come to get you out.’
Without further words, she helped Malik untie the cords from around his hands and feet and released the rope that kept him tethered to a ring set into the pillar. Esmie massaged his wrists and ankles to help the blood circulate so that he could stand and walk. She saw the look of gratitude in the mullah’s brown eyes.
‘Thank you, kind lady,’ he said
softly.
It was only then that Esmie wondered how they were to get out of this dark and dingy vault.
Zakir, taking the torch from Malik, shone it into the corner and beckoned them over. All Esmie could see was a large barrel and some putrid-smelling straw. Zakir put his shoulder to the barrel and began moving it sideways with surprising strength. Malik went to help. Under the barrel was a trap door no bigger than a coalhole. Prising it open, Zakir lowered himself in and nodded for them to follow.
He disappeared down it and the mullah followed. Lydia stood frozen. ‘I can’t bear confined spaces,’ she hissed in terror.
‘Take my hand,’ urged Esmie. ‘Remember how we used to hide in your dad’s cellar and pretend it was our den? You can do this. I’ll go first.’
Lydia took a deep breath and nodded. Crouching down, Esmie could see from the torchlight that there was a drop of about five feet into a dark pit. Her stomach knotted but she must show no fear in front of Lydia. Zakir and Mullah Mahmud held out their hands to help her down. She half-scrambled and half-jumped into the dark hole. With Esmie’s encouragement, Lydia followed. Malik entered last, pulling the trap door shut as he went.
Esmie could feel rather than see that they were in a long dank passage, too narrow to walk side by side and too low to walk upright. Zakir led with the torch. But for the intermittent flicker of torchlight up ahead, they were in complete darkness.
Stooped, Esmie walked while gripping Lydia’s hand behind her. She could hear Lydia’s fast breathing as they groped forward. Esmie was disorientated in the confines of the dark never-ending tunnel but they appeared to be going deeper underground. The secret passage sloped downwards, getting ever steeper. She tried not to shudder at the thought of them being entombed below ground where no one would ever find them. Esmie swallowed down bile and pressed on, concentrating on the dancing torchlight ahead.
The Emerald Affair Page 46