‘Yes, sir.’
‘Mason tolerates Greening’s presence?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Crabbe didn’t elaborate although John and the sergeant had become firm friends, despite the situation and disparity in rank and class.
The brigadier reached for a notepad. He wrote three letters, stamped them with the date, his official stamp and signed them. He placed them in separate envelopes and handed two to Crabbe. ‘These state Major Mason has the freedom to go wherever he chooses in Kut or the forward defences provided he’s accompanied by his guard. It also states Major Mason is no longer to be treated as a prisoner but as an officer and doctor of Indian Expeditionary Force D. His sentence to be reviewed after the relief of Kut. I will keep one copy and ask General Townshend to countersign it. Give one of those to Mason. Tell him to keep it on him at all times in case he is challenged by Colonel Perry – or any other officer. The third copy I suggest you file in a safe place where it’s likely to survive bombardment or attack.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Having achieved more than he’d hoped for Crabbe went to the door.
‘Before you leave, Major Crabbe, and this is completely off the record. Just what the hell happened between Major Mason and Colonel Perry for Perry to want Mason shot?’
‘You said this is confidential between the two of us, Brigadier?’
‘You have my word.’
‘Major Mason married Colonel Perry’s daughter the evening of her mother’s death. The colonel was drunk at his wife’s funeral. Afterwards he locked himself in his quarters. Major Mason and Lieutenant Colonel Downe …’
The brigadier smiled. ‘I miss that man. Every time Harry Downe’s name came up, the brass seemed unsure whether to shoot or promote him.’
‘Either way you couldn’t help liking the man, sir.’
‘We could do with him here. If he went out, just once, in his Arab skirts he’d find out exactly how many locals are in cahoots with the Turks.’
‘We don’t need Harry to tell us that, Brigadier. The entire native population of Kut are with the Ottoman Empire.’
‘To return to the situation between Major Mason and Colonel Perry?’ the brigadier prompted.
‘Major Mason and Lieutenant Colonel Downe broke down the door of Colonel Perry’s bungalow to fetch Miss Perry’s – now Mrs Mason’s – trunk so she could travel to India with Major Mason after their marriage. Rumour has it the speed of the marriage annoyed Colonel Perry but as the colonel was behaving erratically Major Mason felt he couldn’t leave Miss Perry with him.’
‘I heard some odd things about Mrs Perry’s death.’
‘It was a scorpion bite, sir. One of the small yellow ones. Major Mason said their bite was invariably fatal.’
‘He attended Mrs Perry?’
‘Yes, sir. Her body was found between the Perrys’ bungalow and Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s quarters. Major Mason was staying with Lieutenant Colonel Downe that night as his and Maud Perry’s wedding was arranged for the following day.’
‘Who found Mrs Perry?’
‘Lieutenant Colonel Downe, sir. He was returning from the dock after seeing a friend off on leave.’
The brigadier held up the envelope he’d kept. ‘Thank you for enlightening me, Crabbe. I’ll telegraph the information in this letter to General Nixon’s office today and ensure everyone in command knows Mason’s sentence has been postponed.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Am I right in thinking that Colonel Perry has already transmitted news of Mason’s death to his wife and family?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Ask Major Mason if he wants me to telegraph the news of his remarkable recovery.’
‘I will, sir.’
‘One last thing, Major Crabbe, and this is on the record. You can tell Major Mason from me, he is fortunate in his friends. You’re not the only officer who’s been in here demanding his reinstatement to rank and duties.’
Abdul’s coffee shop, Basra, Friday 31st December 1915
The windows of the coffee shop were shrouded in cheap silk, the interior dark, fogged by tobacco and hashish smoke. Men in native robes sat, crowded around small tables, playing backgammon, eating dates, spitting out seeds, and drinking thick-grained Turkish coffee from miniature, doll-sized cups. The clink of backgammon tiles and hubbub of voices was deafening. The stench of male sweat intermingled with roasting coffee beans and burning incense was nauseating.
Abdul bowed before Charles, Tom, and Michael, but his gaze was fixed on Michael.
‘My heart was desolate when I heard Lieutenant Colonel Downe had been killed. I have said many prayers for his soul.’ Abdul ushered them out of the noisy public area into his office. Like Charles and Maud, he’d mistaken Michael for Harry and had been distraught when Charles had enlightened him.
The office was small, furnished Arabic-style with low divans and cushions covered with bright tapestries. The tables were raised barely four inches from the ground. A young man brought in a tray of coffee and pastries. When Charles saw Tom and Michael trying to curl their legs under themselves to sit on a divan he was glad of his wheelchair.
Abdul dismissed the servant, closed the door, and unlocked a chest in the corner of the room. He rummaged in its depths and extracted an envelope which he presented to Michael.
‘Lieutenant Colonel Downe left this to be given to a friend in case he was killed.’
Michael turned it over. Written on the outside, in Harry’s large-lettered scrawl, was To be delivered to Major John Mason or Major Charles Reid or Captain Peter Smythe in the event of my death. Harry Downe.
Below it were two lines of Arabic writing.
‘What does this say?’ Michael asked Abdul.
‘Or to be given to my faithful friend Mitkhal.’
‘Mitkhal was Harry’s bearer,’ Charles explained.
‘Mitkhal was Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s friend, Major Reid, not his servant,’ Abdul corrected.
‘Have you seen Mitkhal lately, Abdul?’ Charles asked.
‘I have not seen him since last June, Major Reid.’
‘He wasn’t here with Harry in November?’
‘No, Major.’
‘That’s strange,’ Charles murmured, ‘they were practically inseparable.’
‘You’re not an officer like your brother, Mr Downe?’ Abdul asked.
‘No, a war correspondent. I write accounts of the battles for the English newspapers,’ he added when he saw the confused expression on Abdul’s face. He opened the letter and read the single page it contained. ‘It’s Harry’s will. He left everything apart from a set of jewellery to his wife and daughters.’
‘Harry has children!’ Charles was shocked by the idea of his friend fathering mixed-race children.
‘Twin girls.’ Michael carried on reading. ‘He has a strongbox in the bank.’
‘Who did he leave the jewellery to?’ Tom recalled Maud telling him Harry had sold a set of jewellery ‘another man’ had given her.
‘Maud.’
‘Why on earth would Harry leave Maud jewellery?’ Charles spoke more sharply than he’d intended.
‘Maud told me Harry had sold jewellery for her,’ Tom revealed. ‘If Maud had said to him, as she did to me, that she didn’t want to touch any of John’s money, it would be like Harry to pretend to sell her jewellery to give her enough to live on.’
‘Abdul, have you any idea where Harry’s wife is?’ Michael asked.
‘No, sir. I never met her.’
‘But you know her name?’
‘I know she is the daughter of Sheikh Ibn Shalan.’
‘Ibn Shalan is?’ Michael pressed.
‘A powerful sheikh no man wants to annoy, sir.’
‘Where does he live?’
‘He has houses in Basra and in Baghdad, but like all Bedouin his true home is the desert. It was in the desert Hasan Mahmoud was born and it was where he made his home.’
Michael asked. ‘Who is Hasan Mahmoud?’
‘His English name is Harry Downe, sir, but his true name is Hasan Mahmoud.’
‘Harry’s Bedouin identity,’ Charles explained.
Michael tried and failed to imagine his brother masquerading as an Arab. ‘Could Harry really pass himself off as Bedouin?’
‘My Arab customers who did not know him well never suspected he was British, Mr Downe,’ Abdul replied.
‘Once he put on his Arab robes you wouldn’t give him a second glance,’ Charles agreed. ‘Every man in the Dorsets has a story about mistaking Harry for an Arab and either almost shooting him or seeing someone try. Did Harry leave anything with you except this letter, Abdul?’
‘Not with me. There may be something in Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s room. It’s how he left it. No one has been it apart from the women to clean it. If you want to look at it, you are welcome.’
‘Thank you, I would.’ Charles left his wheelchair at the foot of the inner staircase and, leaning heavily on the banister, followed Abdul up the stairs. Tom and Michael climbed up behind them.
Abdul produced a bunch of keys from his robe, inserted one in a lock, and opened a door. He removed the key he’d used from the ring and handed it to Michael. ‘Don’t forget to lock the room and return the key to me when you leave.’
‘I won’t.’ Michael looked inside. ‘You kept my brother’s trunk?’
‘Nothing has been taken from this room since Hasan left. He was a good friend to me. War is chaos. Some people are reported dead who still live. I cannot imagine Hasan dead. I intend to keep his room like this until the war ends. If he does not appear then …’ Abdul left without finishing his sentence.
Michael entered the room. A divan draped in camel hair rugs was pushed into the corner closest to the stove. A military chest secured by a large iron padlock stood next to it. A second unlocked chest stood behind the door. A plain wooden table and two chairs completed the furnishings.
‘By the look of this place, Harry lived simply.’ Tom went to the window.
‘I watched him prepare to ride out into the desert from Amara,’ Charles said. ‘He was in Arab robes, and carried a saddlebag that contained a handful of dates, a skin of water, a couple of gold sovereigns minted in 1872, his gun, sword, and knife. I took him to task for not wearing his identity discs, he said he was careful to have nothing on him that a native wouldn’t carry. He not only lived with the Bedouin, he lived like them.’
Michael lifted the lid on the unlocked chest. He removed a set of Arab robes, headdress, sandals, soap, tooth powder, toothbrush, hairbrush, underclothes, and a bottle of brandy.
Tom pulled at the padlock on the military chest. ‘Do you want me to ask Abdul if he has the key for this?’
‘If Abdul had the key he would have given it to us.’ Charles released his grip on the door and lowered himself on to one of the chairs.
Tom examined the padlock.
‘I’ll open it.’ Michael thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out what looked like a pocket knife. He opened it up and extracted a slim blade.
‘I didn’t know you could pick locks as well as Harry.’ Tom watched him set to work.
‘It was Harry who taught me. I give him full marks. This is not an easy lock to pick.’
‘Too complicated for you?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
Five minutes later Michael lifted the lid. He took out a medium-sized wooden box and handed it to Tom who opened it.
‘There are a couple of hundred gold sovereigns in here.’
‘Anything else?’ Michael asked.
‘Just the coins.’
Michael lifted out another, smaller square box that appeared to be a block of solid wood. He ran his fingers over the sides, testing the surface and pressing the corners. Moments later a tiny secret drawer slid open. Inside was a key. ‘Looks like we found the key to the safety deposit box Harry mentioned in his will.’ Michael slipped it into his wallet.
‘Is there anything in there that might lead us to Harry’s wife?’ Tom asked.
‘Nothing, just the two boxes.’ Michael sat back on his heels. ‘It’s not much to show for a life.’
‘No,’ Charles murmured. ‘Not much at all.’
Chapter Ten
Gray Mackenzie & Co, Basra, Friday 31st December 1915
‘We only have an hour before Michael and I have to be at the wharf,’ Tom warned Charles as they entered the bank.
‘Wheel me to the office door and leave the talking to me.’ Charles straightened his cap. His features hardened, and he was transformed from helpless invalid to authoritative officer. He rapped the glass inner door with his cane and motioned Michael to open it at the occupier’s ‘come’.
‘Major.’ The man behind the desk rose when the entered. ‘Anthony Smith, how can I help you?’
‘We’re here to check Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s safety deposit box.’ Charles took the letter Crabbe had sent him from his pocket and handed it over. ‘Notification of Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s death from a fellow officer. His brother has his will. We have the key.’
Anthony read the papers. ‘We were all upset to hear of Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s death. He was a popular visitor here. My condolences, Mr Downe. The family resemblance is remarkable.’
‘Thank you.’ Michael reached for his wallet and extracted the key.
Mr Smith rang a bell and an elderly clerk appeared. ‘Escort these gentlemen to the bank vault, Friedman. Give them Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s safety deposit box, and any assistance they require.’
Less than five minutes after entering the building they were in the vault. Friedman showed them Harry’s box but it took the combined strength of Tom and Michael to lift it on to the table. Friedman tactfully moved to a desk at the door, opened a ledger, and pretended to study it.
Michael produced the key and lifted the lid. He removed a black ledger and a leather jeweller’s case to reveal a mass of sovereigns.
Tom whistled. ‘Looks like Harry saved his pennies.’
Michael opened the ledger. ‘According to an entry Harry made last November there were 6,000 but there’s an entry below his I can’t decipher. It looks like Arabic.’
Charles examined the jeweller’s case. Set on indented beds of cream velvet were a ruby and diamond necklace, tiara, ring, earrings, and four bracelets, two large enough to be worn above the elbow, two smaller ones below. He’d seen the set before. Maud had been wearing them the evening he’d called on her in India and told her he was taking her to Basra – and John. He could even remember their conversation, the obdurate look on her face when she’d announced: ‘I’m not going.’
His voice, bitter angry resonated through his mind. ‘ You’ll board that ship if I have to drag you up the gangplank by your hair. You said life is short. A tour of duty on the Western Front has shown me just how short – and painful. But some pain can be avoided. You’re not going to hurt John any more than you already have. Whether he lives for another month or sixty years he’s going to be as happy as a whore like you can make him.’
He’d succeeded in dragging Maud to Basra but he hadn’t succeeded in alleviating John’s further pain. John had called on Maud only once in Basra. To inform her he was divorcing her.
Tom interrupted Charles’s thoughts. ‘These look as though they belong in an empress’s collection.’ He picked up one of the three-inch long earrings.
‘Only if you’re talking about a pagan empress,’ Charles concurred. ‘They’re too ostentatious for any modern woman. If you trust them with me, Michael, I’ll see Maud gets them.’
‘Of course I trust you, but can we be sure this is the set Harry intended for Maud?’ Michael was wary of giving Harry’s possessions to anyone except his wife.
‘I saw Maud wearing them in India. She admitted John hadn’t given them to her.’
‘My brother has better taste.’ Tom replaced the earring in the box. ‘I’m guessing instead of selling them, Harry gave her what he thought they were worth.’
&nb
sp; Michael carried the ledger over to the clerk. ‘Do you read Arabic, Mr Friedman?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Could you please tell me what this says?’ He pointed to the last entry in the ledger.
‘It appears to have been made by Lieutenant Colonel Downe’s wife, sir.’
‘She comes here?’
‘She has done, sir.’
‘To do what?’
‘That I couldn’t tell you, sir. Gray Mackenzie & Co prides itself on client confidentiality.’
‘She accessed this box?’ Michael pressed him.
‘Yes, sir. She had a key and a signed letter of permission from Lieutenant Colonel Downe.’
‘You have the letter?’
‘A copy I made, sir.’ Friedman handed it to Michael.
‘Dated last November before the Battle of Ctesiphon.’ Michael couldn’t conceal his disappointment. A more recent date might have meant that Harry had by some miracle survived the Turkish ambush. ‘Did she take out money?’
‘According to this notation, yes, sir.’
‘How much?’
‘A thousand sovereigns.’
‘What would that buy in Basra?’ Michael asked.
‘A great deal, sir.’
‘A house?’
‘A fine one, sir.’
‘Do you have Mrs Downe’s address?’
The man flicked through the ledger. ‘No, sir. Only the time of her visit. Eight o’clock, Tuesday morning. 7th December. She was accompanied only by a woman. Veiled, of course. No manservant, which was unusual. I remember thinking at the time he must have been upriver with the lieutenant colonel.’
‘How long did she spend here?’
The clerk checked the ledger again. ‘No more than ten minutes, sir.’
‘Will you notify me if she comes again?’
‘Aside from the fact that I’ve been ordered to give you every assistance, it would be my pleasure, sir. Will you be staying in Basra?’
Michael thought for a moment. ‘Tom, would you mind going upstream alone? I’ll stay on for a few days to talk to people in HQ and write a background piece on the campaign for the Mirror.’
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