He climbed the stairs to her rooms at the top, and hesitated. What was he going to say? Declare his love? Tell her he’d never leave her side again? That he’d never leave her vulnerable and exposed? Maybe not. That would more than likely annoy her.
The door opened before he could knock. It was Nurse Owen, dressed in her uniform.
‘Lieutenant Lock, you startled me!’ she gasped.
‘Mary. I’m sorry. Is Amy here?’
‘No,’ Mary said with a shake of her head. ‘I haven’t seen her.’
‘Please, Mary, I need to speak to her. Can I come in?’
‘I was just on my way out. I’m on duty in twenty minutes.’
Lock could tell she was hiding something by the way she wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘Mary?’
She lifted her face to his. ‘You look awful.’
‘I feel awful.’
Mary smiled hesitantly. ‘She’s at CHQ. With her father and your Mr Ross. I—’
Lock turned on his heels. ‘Thank you, you’re an angel,’ he called over his shoulder, hurrying back down the stairs.
‘Kingdom!’ she shouted after him. ‘Don’t go. Don’t try and see her. You won’t like what’s happened.’
But Lock wasn’t listening. He came out of the entrance, back onto the narrow street, and made his way to the main thoroughfare where he had left his horse in the care of a young boy.
The lad, no more than ten years old, all grinning teeth and matted hair, jumped up and handed Lock the reins.
‘Very tired horse, as-sayed,’ he said.
Lock ruffled the boy’s hair and handed him a coin. ‘Very tired as-sayed.’ He pulled himself back into the saddle, and made his way down to the banks of the Shatt where the Command Headquarters building was situated.
It was of a similar construction to the British Hospital, two storeys with a flat roof, a shaded balcony running the length of the first floor, with porticoes below. Lock dismounted and tied the horse in the shade of a palm tree next to a water trough. He made his way past the bored Indian sentries, who stood sweltering either side of the entrance, and stepped into a blissfully cool and dark hall. A desk rested in the centre, behind which a uniformed clerk sat busying himself reading through a number of papers. Beyond him was a pair of highly polished oak doors.
Lock approached, and the clerk looked up.
‘Yes, Lieutenant?’
‘I’m here to see General Townshend. The name’s Lock.’
‘Ah, yes. Thought it might be,’ the clerk said, looking Lock up and down. ‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’ He picked up the receiver of the black telephone at his right elbow, and waited for the phone to be answered. ‘Ah, sorry to disturb you, sir. That fellow … Lieutenant Lock … He’s here … Righto, sir.’ The clerk put the receiver back in its cradle and gave Lock a quick smile. ‘Take a seat, Lieutenant, he’ll be with you in a jiffy.’
Lock nodded and glanced around. Set well away and opposite the desk were two hard wooden benches, one behind the other. Lock took his hat off, sat down on the front bench, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and watched the clerk at work, methodically signing each paper before placing it in the metal tray on the left-hand corner of the desk. A sigh over in the shadows pulled Lock’s attention away.
To the clerk’s right, over against the wall near to the oak doors, were two chairs. A uniformed woman occupied one. She was dark-haired, and even from across the hall, Lock could see that she radiated a sultry beauty. Subconsciously she was rubbing her slender neck. As she lowered her hand, Lock’s gaze fell on her tightly buttoned jacket front. He looked back up to see that she was staring back at him. She smiled briefly then averted her gaze again.
Lock frowned trying to ascertain what her uniform was. She was no nurse, he could see that. The uniform was military, but nothing he was familiar with. The arm of her jacket bore an emblem of an eagle or similar bird sat above crossed swords, below which were three chevron stripes. The collars and cuffs of her white blouse were folded up over the jacket, and her skirt reached down to her ankles and a pair of polished, heeled black booties. On her head she wore a straw hat, which, like her uniform, was navy blue. There was a band with gold lettering around the hat, but Lock couldn’t see all the letters. He could only make out ‘VAL RESER’.
‘Hello, Val,’ Lock said to himself.
Then the double oak doors behind the clerk opened and Amy and Lady Alice emerged, closely followed by the general and Major Ross. All four were laughing gaily.
Lock jumped to his feet and walked towards them. But Major Ross, arm in a white sling, quickly intercepted him.
‘Ah, Kingdom, there you are!’ he said.
‘Sir,’ Lock said, but he was looking at Amy.
Major Ross stepped into his line of sight. ‘My boy, you look frightful. You could have freshened up a little.’
‘Sir, I thought it best to come straight here.’
‘Well, now that you are here, we need to talk about our German problem. Before we speak to the general.’
‘Wassmuss?’ Lock said, his eyes still on Amy. She was avoiding his stare.
‘Lock,’ Ross said sternly, grabbing his arm. ‘This is important.’ He began to walk him back towards the benches.
‘Well, goodbye, my dears,’ Townshend was saying to his wife and daughter.
Lock watched the two women bid their farewells, and begin to move away.
‘Is she all right? Amy?’ Lock said.
The major glanced over at the departing women. ‘A little shaken, nasty concussion. But she’s a strong one and has proved most helpful in our pursuit of Wassmuss. She’s corroborated your story about Winslade, too. So you are off the hook there. But the German has still eluded capture. My reckoning is that he’ll be heading for the Turk lines at Nasiriyeh, or perhaps Ctesiphon. But while I was in my sickbed, I did a little reading from the parts of the notebook I’d copied out. Very interesting. And I may have a lead on our rat in White Tabs, too. Thanks to Sergeant Boxer there.’
Lock wasn’t really concentrating on what the major was saying; all the time his focus remained on Amy and Lady Townshend. ‘Sorry, sir? Sergeant Boxer?’
‘My American girl,’ Ross said, indicating over his shoulder.
Lock looked over at the woman in the navy uniform. ‘Who, Val?’
‘Val?’ Ross frowned. ‘Elizabeth. Elizabeth Boxer. Yeoman 1st Class, in the United States Naval Reserve Female Division—’
‘Lock, my boy,’ General Townshend said, stepping over to them. ‘My, you are a godsend when it comes to my daughter. Come, let’s go into my office and toast the bride!’
‘Bride?’ Lock said, catching the look of dread on Ross’s face. ‘What bride?’
‘Why Amy, of course!’ Townshend beamed. ‘She’s accepted young Casper’s proposal of marriage. And not a mo—’
‘Excuse me, sir.’ Lock broke away from the two officers and hurried after Amy and Lady Townshend. They had just stepped out of the hall, and had disappeared from sight.
Lock emerged out into the shaded covered walkway, looking to his left and right. ‘Amy!’ he called.
The two women were at the end of the portico. They stopped. Lady Townshend, face a hard mask of disapproval, was about to approach Lock, but Amy pulled her gently back, said something, and then walked towards Lock alone.
They met halfway.
Lock put his hand out to take hers, but she pulled away from him.
‘Is it true?’ he said.
She stared back defiantly. ‘Yes, Kingdom, I told you we could never be.’
‘I don’t believe you mean that. You’re a rebel at heart, like I am. You’re a suffragette, an independent woman, and you said that fate had thrown us together. This is not who you are.’
Amy’s face remained blank. ‘You don’t understand, Kingdom,’ she said. ‘I’ve known Casper all my life. My family, his family … It’s what we do …’
‘You don’t believe that,’ Lock said. ‘I know you don’t. Ru
n away with me, now. Marry me.’
Amy tried to keep her composure, but she was struggling, and her eyes were beginning to well up. She put her hand up towards Lock’s face.
‘Venir, enfant.’ Lady Townshend had walked up and she snatched Amy’s hand away. ‘I am grateful to you, Monsieur Lock, grateful for saving my daughter, but she cannot see you any more, and I would be thankful if you would respect that.’ She gave a quick, nervous smile, and steered her daughter away.
Lock stood and watched them go, for now. But it wasn’t over between him and Amy Townshend, that much he knew. This was merely another obstacle in his way, a challenge laid down. And he had always thrived on a challenge.
‘The general’s waiting. If you’re not too busy chasing skirt.’
Lock turned to see the major standing beside him.
‘I’m not sure I want to toast the bride, sir.’
‘Nonsense, we’re toasting you.’
‘Sir?’
‘Your promotion,’ Ross said. ‘He’s signed the order. All approved and official.’
Lock shrugged. He didn’t care about that. ‘Must we?’
‘Oh, come, my boy,’ Ross said, taking his arm and guiding him back. ‘I like the sound of it. Suits you.’
Lock gave a wry smile.
Ross paused at the entranceway, and threw out a smart, teasing salute.
‘After you, Captain Lock.’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A note on the languages used in this book:
On many occasions a translation is provided within the text. The Arabic words and phrases are interpreted in familiar Roman letters and follow an imitated-pronunciation system. For consistency, the main source of reference was the Dorling Kindersley Eyewitness Travel Guides Arabic Phrase Book (2003).
I. D. ROBERTS
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About the Author
I.D. Roberts was born in Australia in 1970 and moved to England when he was three. From a young age he developed an obsession with war comics, movies, Tintin and James Bond. For the past decade he has been the film writer for a national listings magazine. After living all over the country and buying a farmhouse by mistake in Ireland, he finally settled in the South West and currently lives in rural Somerset with his wife Di and their chocolate Labrador, Steed.
www.idroberts.com
By I. D. Roberts
Kingdom Lock
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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London W1T 6DW
www.allisonandbusby.com
First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2014.
This ebook edition first published in 2014.
Copyright © 2014 by I.D. ROBERTS
Map copyright © 2014 by VANESSA ROSE
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1635–7
Kingdom Lock Page 32