Hell bay, p.10
Hell Bay, page 10
“Very well. How should we start? You think Her Ladyship will allow you to rattle the family skeletons?” I asked. “Just like that?”
“Why not? I have her oldest and dearest friend to convince her.”
Philippa frowned. She had just been finessed into doing his bidding. I was glad to see it was someone else for a change.
“What shall I do in the meantime, sir?”
“I want you to engage Mr. Cesar in conversation and squeeze him like a lime until there is nothing left but pulp.”
“Without him noticing it, of course,” I said.
“Of course. In a conversational tone, or he might inform his master that we are looking into his past.”
“You suspect Kerry is connected to the murders somehow?”
“Allow me to ask you a question in turn. Why would a man who made such an ass of himself here eight years ago not only accept an invitation but seemingly court it? Mr. Kerry no longer needs money. His company is a success. Does he actually care for Olivia Burrell, a spinster in her late twenties? There are younger and wealthier prospects for him in London.”
“You make her sound positively ancient,” Philippa chided. “She’s a very sweet girl.”
“Whom London society had little use for.”
“Well, she does live out here on this godforsaken isle, and she is third in line for the inheritance.”
I thought about what he said.
“I wonder how much money Paul is now worth,” I said.
“That is why I want to see Lord Hargrave’s will.”
I stood and offered a hand to Mrs. Ashleigh. She was in a black dress covered in jet with a full bustle, and rising was not especially easy.
“Good luck, then, to both of you. It might not be easy to convince Lady Hargrave to allow you to peep into the family’s private papers. Remember, God cannot abide secrets, and none can remain hidden forever.”
He held out an elbow and his companion took it, and they moved off together. As for myself, I took the back stairs to the kitchen, which is how I first arrived.
Cesar was in the silver room, polishing with his sleeves rolled up beside a mountain of flatware, coffee servers, salvers, and other kitchen utensils. It seemed perfect for what I needed.
“Can I give you a hand with that?” I asked.
“Oh, would you? I like helping, but they seem to give me the hardest and dirtiest jobs. Roll up your sleeves or you will ruin your cuffs.”
“We’ll make short work of this lot,” I said, unlinking my cuffs. “So, how long have you been in England, and how are you finding it so far?”
“About a month now. I never knew a place could be so cold.”
“This is summer,” I said. “You should see it in January.”
“I hope I will be out of here and back in Brazil long before then.”
“Oh?” I asked, picking up a teapot and taking a rag to it. “Does Mr. Kerry intend to return to South America? I assumed he was staying here.”
“If he does stay, I may return alone. I much prefer the equator to the North Pole.”
“Why stay at all, for that matter? I’m sure you have your reasons for being loyal, but your master doesn’t treat you very well.”
“That’s just his way. He is gruff with everyone. And he is out of sorts. He somehow embarrassed himself here once, and he is anxious to make up for it with the family.”
“Does he favor Miss Burrell?”
“I gather they were unofficially betrothed for many years and he hopes to reconcile with her.”
“He certainly made a good impression the other evening in his military jacket.”
“He was a war hero. He was decorated for it. The war was hellish. Often it was one hundred and twenty degrees in the jungle. There was malaria, yellow fever, and slaughter. They fought with machetes sometimes. The king of Bolivia hired English mercenaries, hoping to train his army. Many of them died, but three survived. One of them was Mr. Kerry. They became heroes. We called them Os Tres Tigres, the three tigers.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Three tigers,” I prompted.
“Si,” Cesar responded. “Are you familiar with the War of the Pacific? There is no reason why a European should be. It was a border war between Bolivia and Chile. Peru became involved, which only made it a bigger mess. The area in dispute was a desert. It is ironic, no? People fighting over a desert? But there are nitrates in the desert that Chile wanted, and land, too. They fought over, well, whatever people fight over. Taxation and tariffs and tyranny. The Chilean army occupied Antofagasta in ’79, and Bolivia declared war, and Bolivia asked Peru to join in because of an agreement between the two countries. Does it really matter why a war starts?”
“I suppose not.”
“Anyway, we read about it in Rio rather carefully because refugees might come south, or Brazil might become involved. Chile was the best equipped of the armies, while Bolivia, in spite of their having declared war, was the worst equipped. Peru was more powerful, but soon Lima was occupied. The Peruvian ambassador put out a call for mercenaries and military experts. It attracted competent soldiers as well as ne’er-do-wells. As I heard it, three men met in a camp outside of Lima. They had been made captains by the Peruvian government based merely on the fact that they were English. They respected your military skills, you see. The men were my master, Algernon Kerry, Capitán Nigel Pelham of the Bengal Lancers, and Capitán Jack Hillary. All of them had come to South America after having felt unwanted in their own country. Hillary was a good businessman and could trade supplies and suggest ways to hamper the enemy. What is a war anyway, but a business enterprise? Pelham was an expert soldier. He was as ruthless as a soldier could be. In fact, there were rumors afoot that he had committed atrocities in the past. Then there was my master. He can drill and drive men, and turn a group of fighters into a disciplined army. Among the three of them, they could lead an army over the mountains, through jungles, and even across the desert. Unfortunately, they could not fight a larger and better equipped army forever. Having won many battles and been decorated, they lost the war. Bolivia and Peru eventually sued for peace. The Three Tigers, now wanted men, left for the interior of Brazil hoping to seek their fortunes along the Amazon.
“Soon they arrived in Manaus, the capital city of the rubber boom, the ciclo de borracha. There they prospered and founded Paititi Limited, one of the most successful companies in the Putumayo basin.”
“How did you meet your employer?” I asked.
“I was working as a bookkeeper in Manaus, but not doing very well for myself, I’m afraid. Mr. Kerry posted a need for a manservant and I applied and was hired. People in my part of the world often change positions as our personal fortunes rise and fall. Anyway, everything went well until this year.”
“What happened?”
“This year, Paititi Limited was dissolved.”
“How so, if it was so profitable?” I asked.
“Up until last year the company was allowed to use slave labor. King Pedro II made it illegal. Without free native labor, the rubber could no longer be produced profitably. The three owners decided to sell the company at its best market value rather than wait for its inevitable decline. Mr. Kerry is here in England to sell the remaining rubber reserves. Captain Pelham and Mr. Hillary are in Manaus closing down the corporation and locating a buyer.”
“So, these ‘three tigers’ will all retire rich men. What becomes of you?”
“I don’t expect generosity from any of them. I’ll need to find another situation. I shall leave Manaus and go back to Rio.”
“Do you have any idea why someone would try to kill the ambassador?”
Cesar shook his head. “I’m sorry. We have been caught up in the company’s plans, and have not read any news about Europe, but I understand there are anarchists here and unrest. I must admit that even in Brazil assassinations are not uncommon.”
“You could stay here in London,” I suggested, lifting a ladle.
“I’m sorry, Thomas, and I mean no disrespect to your country, but I am wasting away. The food here is inedible. I can barely keep it down. Mostly I live on chocolate bars. Even the coffee here is undrinkable. It is a tragedy to see beans I have watched grow on the hills of my homeland turned to mulch and overboiled in your restaurants.”
“And you’re cold,” I added.
“Oh, yes, so very cold. Give me the steaming jungles of the Amazon over this frigid country, please. I vow to be gone long before September arrives. I have never seen snow before but I could not survive your autumn or winter.”
I could not help but chuckle. It was perhaps sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit.
“So, is it true?” Cesar went on.
“Is what true?”
“That you gentlemen are detectives? It is the talk of the kitchen. I must admit I have made a joke at your employer’s expense. I have suggested he is two men in a costume, one sitting on another’s shoulders.”
“I’m sure he has heard worse,” I said.
“But has he seen worse—worse than His Lordship’s being shot at in such a manner? Or being shot at as you and I were the other day?”
“I don’t know about worse, but we’ve often seen men killed in as violent a method. Certainly, I am no stranger to being shot at.”
“Have you always wanted a life of adventure?”
“Good heavens, no. I would prefer to work in a bookstore somewhere and scribble poetry.”
“I know what you mean,” Cesar said. “I miss my old work as a bookkeeper. And here we are trapped on an island and being fired upon by an insane person! I want to go home, to a simple life. I see no reason why Mr. Kerry would wish to return to this country.”
“It’s not always like this,” I said. “Well, not for most people, anyway.”
“Is Mr. Barker a capable person? Do you think you will be able to catch whoever is out there shooting at us?”
“He is like cream, Cesar. Sooner or later, he always rises to the top. I don’t fancy anyone’s chances who goes against him. You have to understand this is meat and drink to him, and the worse the situation becomes, the more he prefers it.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“You play chess?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“Would you rather play someone who challenges you, or that you can easily beat?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “I generally lose!”
We both laughed, but at the wrong time. The housekeeper chose that moment to enter the room. We immediately turned to polishing as hard as we could. She set down a few new pieces to be polished, then gave us a stern look and left.
“Do you know what I miss most of all?” he asked. “Siestas. I am not a steam engine that can be run all hours of the day. A nap in the afternoon replenishes the body.”
“I have told Mr. Barker that on several occasions. I believe he assumes I am making a joke.”
“I would not dare try that sort of thing with Mr. Kerry. He has a temper.”
“So I’ve noticed. Surely there are easier masters to work for.”
“I have worked for harder men, and for less money. The only real complaint I’ve had with my current master is bringing me to this part of the world where it’s always cold and people are shooting at me.”
I nodded in sympathy. Actually, I thought it a fine day, but I suppose when one is accustomed to equatorial heat this might be bracing. I helped Cesar with the last of the silver and then returned upstairs. As far as I could tell, I had not aroused the Brazilian’s suspicions. At the same time, I felt rather guilty. I was tricking a fellow who had been nothing but kind to me. Still, I was accustomed to doing that sort of thing now, and I hadn’t really done him any harm.
Returning upstairs, I saw that Barker had been installed in His Lordship’s rooms, and Mrs. Ashleigh in his former room next door. The door connecting them was open, which under normal circumstances might have caused some danger to her reputation.
“Ah, Thomas,” he said. “As you see, we are moving.”
Looking in, I saw Philippa sitting by the fire in the Guv’s old room reading a book and looking contented enough, given the circumstances. To my mind, she was safer at that moment than anyone else in the house, myself included.
Pulling Barker aside, I gave him a verbatim account of what had transpired between Rojas and me. Everything save for comparing masters, anyway.
“You did not press him on the cocaine?” he asked.
“I did not see how to work it in,” I admitted. “I’ll try again later, if you’d like.”
“Mmmph.”
No “good work, lad.” No “you are improving.” No “thank you for your efforts.”
“Lad, go retrieve your luggage. You’ll share His Lordship’s room with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
When I reached my room in the servants’ quarters, it was unoccupied. Herr Schroeder was nowhere to be found. The German was a disagreeable fellow, and I had not relished sharing a room with him, but he had been innocuous enough. At least he did not snore. I could not say the same about my employer.
Out in the hall, I noticed one of the footmen, one of the fellows whom I had helped after he was poisoned with the mushrooms.
“What has become of Herr Schroeder?”
“He is being detained under guard, sir.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“Mr. Partridge has informed the staff that Herr Schroeder was discovered lurking outside the ambassador’s room armed.”
“Armed? I assume you mean a firearm of some sort.”
“That was what I assumed as well. Mr. Partridge is not the sort of person from whom one asks for clarification.”
“I understand what you mean, precisely.”
Returning to the room, I told the Guv what I had heard about Herr Schroeder being detained.
“We shall say nothing about it until the colonel brings it up. Let us take a leaf from Lord Hargrave’s book and try some diplomacy.”
We went downstairs to dinner and endured Kerry’s remarks without comment. He and Paul Burrell were becoming thick as thieves. I was concerned that the ambassador didn’t see what sort of person Kerry was.
Afterward, there was no special entertainment set aside for our amusement. We spoke to various people individually, trying to gather more facts. We returned to Barker’s rooms about nine o’clock. Barker went to the window and looked through the shutters at the night sky.
“We have a new development.”
I felt the muscles in my back tense. It is impossible for one to think and worry for twenty-four hours. For small amounts of time one forgets until reminded of the danger again.
“What is it?”
“The lighthouse has not been lit tonight. It is nearly ten.”
“Has something happened to Flannan?”
“Possibly. Let us speak to the colonel.”
We went downstairs and into the library. The ambassador, Colonel Fraser, Algernon Kerry, and the Burrells were seated with whisky and sodas at their elbow. Partridge hovered nearby. The men were holding some kind of council, I assumed. Our arrival did not arouse any joy. On the contrary, in fact. They looked suspicious.
“Colonel, might I have a word?” Barker asked.
Fraser pushed himself out of his seat slowly. He was over seventy, after all, though he had that vigor some men have at that age. He came out into the hall with a guarded expression on his face, though unlike the rest of them he was unfailingly polite.
“How can I help you, Mr. Barker?”
“The lighthouse has not been lit this evening. I’m concerned about the keeper, Mr. Flannan.”
“Hmmm. We should send out a search party.”
“There is no need to go to the trouble. If someone will guard the house and in particular Mrs. Ashleigh’s door, Mr. Llewelyn and I shall go and investigate.”
Fraser frowned in thought. It was obvious that he did not fully trust us, but there was nothing dangerous in what we had proposed, nothing for anyone in the house, anyway.
“That would be helpful, I suppose,” he said.
“If you need to discuss this with your colleagues, the lad and I can wait here.”
That was a criticism on my employer’s part, suggesting the colonel was not fully leading the group. In short, that it was a mob.
“I don’t need to discuss anything with them,” he replied.
“I am gratified to hear it,” Barker said. He has a rough voice but when he needs to he can make it sound quite honeyed. “I shall let you get back to your discussion. If Thomas and I are not back in an hour, expect the worst.”
“Very well,” Fraser said, as if he expected just that.
“I think that pistols are in order, Mr. Llewelyn,” he said. “Not that they will work over a hundred yards.”
We went back upstairs and, ever discreet, Barker knocked on the outside door and told Mrs. Ashleigh that we would be leaving but someone would be watching outside. We then went to our own rooms and began to prepare.
Barker carries a brace of English-made Colt Peacemakers. I’ve seen him carry as many as four of them. I watched as he slipped the pair into the waistband of his trousers, handles forward.
“You haven’t brought your coat?” I asked, referring to his heavy leather coat with built-in holsters and pockets for lead plating. He is known for it in London.
“Too cumbersome and too hot.”
“Not by Cesar Rojas’s standards. He claims he has been cold since he arrived.”
I unpacked my own pair of pistols, Webley Mark IIIs with short-nosed barrels. True, they would be useless beyond even fifty yards, but anything within that, I could hit. I had even beaten Barker once or twice in the shooting range in our cellar. I jammed them into my pockets.
Barker retrieved a dark lantern from his luggage, and a pack of vestas. Then he locked both doors tightly. We met Percy Burrell in the hall. He was seated by the staircase. Seeing her well guarded, we went down the stair and in a few moments out through the front door.
The moon turned the entire scene before us a deep indigo blue. I looked up at it. It was full in the cloudless sky and one could make out the features of the so-called man in the moon. I know that scientists claim they are merely mountain ranges on that far-off sphere, but I liked to think of the benevolent or at least benign fellow who watches over us every night.
