Once a Scoundrel
Page 20
“Well, he was alive this morning,” Rory said briskly. “He left our ship early today to call on his cousin Gürkan.”
Damla gasped and moved to the iron barred door. She was lovely, with great dark eyes and a face that suggested both softness and steel. “He is here in Constantinople?”
“Yes, Malek has been desperate to get you and the children back. Ever since he learned of your capture, all his time and energy have been devoted to bringing you home.”
Damla sank to the ground and covered her face with her hands as she struggled to control her tears. “That evil Gürkan lied to me! I had thought I would know in my heart if my husband was dead, and I didn’t feel he was gone. Tell me what has happened!”
“Gürkan set an impossibly high ransom for you, so Malek returned to the corsair trade in hopes of raising enough money to buy your freedom.” Rory smiled ruefully. “Which is why I and my cousin are here. We are the most valuable captives he took, but he set a ransom price too high for my family to pay. So he gathered what money he could and took ship for Constantinople with me, my cousin, and a hold full of animals from his menagerie in hopes the sum would be enough to buy your freedom.”
Damla bit her lip. “So because of us, you and your cousin are now slaves?”
“I’m afraid so,” Rory said bleakly. “Since you are still here, Gürkan must be taking all and giving nothing back.”
Damla looked ready to spit. “That would be like him!” Her expression crumpled. “If Malek came here to challenge the lion in his den, he will not leave this palace alive.”
Rory felt like wringing Malek’s neck herself. His obsessive determination had damaged so many people, not least herself and Constance. But that was not what Damla needed to hear. “Remember that whatever Malek has done, he has done for love of you and his children.”
“If only he had succeeded,” Damla whispered, her delicate hands gripping the iron bars of her prison.
Feeling deeply sad, Rory rose and said softly, “We’ll talk again.” Then she headed back to her own quarters.
She opened the door of their luxurious room, thinking of all the other rooms she’d occupied in her traveling days. A few were filthy and vermin infested, a few had been grand, and most had been pleasant enough.
But she was tired of travel, of continual adaptation. She wanted a home she could call her own, and she wanted it to be in England. Why couldn’t she have figured that out when she’d been in a position to make it happen?
Because she had wanted to break free of the restrictions of her rank, see the world in all its diversity, and of course then she hadn’t found a man she wanted to stay with. She smiled wryly. For all her adventurous imagination, she was a woman like any other, and more than anything, she wanted a lover, a companion, a mate who loved her in all her imperfections, and whom she could love back in equal measure. She’d found him, and now it was too late....
She locked down her regrets and entered the room she shared with Constance. Her cousin was sitting cross-legged on her bed, which was much easier to do in a loose Turkish robe than in European clothing.
She looked up with a smile and gestured at the bundle on her lap. It had been wrapped in the long scarf Jason had given her, and inside were the clothes she’d been wearing when abducted earlier in the day. “Look! Suzanne was able to retrieve and return our belongings!” She pulled the scarf loose and draped it around her neck, petting the fabric as if it were Jason.
Rory’s scarf-wrapped bundle was also on her bed. She dropped down and eagerly unwrapped it. “Everything, including our stays?”
“Everything,” Constance said emphatically.
Rory pulled out her stays. Well made and lightly padded, they were comfortable to wear. And sewn into a narrow pocket between the breasts was a whalebone busk that she’d paid a bored sailor to whittle into a weapon during the long voyage to India. The sharpened end tucked into a matching piece of whalebone that acted as a scabbard.
She pulled the bone blade from its scabbard and contemplated it. “Remember when I came up with the idea for this to put in a book?”
“Yes, The Warrior Maiden.” Constance pulled the busk from her own stays. Because of her fuller figure, this busk was a little broader, its sharpened blade a little more dangerous. “I thought your idea was clever, but I wasn’t sure it would work, so you had these made. And they convinced me.”
Rory tested the razor-sharp point on her left middle finger. A dot of blood formed. “These were good at stabbing a piece of meat in the galley so I put the idea into the book. But I never thought I might actually use this as a weapon.”
Constance slid the two pieces of her busk together so they looked like one long curve of whalebone. “I don’t know if I’d be able to actually stab anyone with this.”
Rory tried to imagine plunging that lethal bone dagger into another human, and her stomach turned. Then she thought of stabbing it into their evil captor, and her mouth hardened. “I might be able to use it on Gürkan. The man needs killing.”
“He does,” Constance agreed. “But I’m sure he has enormous, dangerous guards who won’t let such weapons near him.”
“True.” Rory smiled as a wicked thought occurred to her. “Unless the busks can be used as part of a strange European hairstyle?”
Constance gave a smile of unholy amusement. “Trying that should keep us busy for a while.”
Yes, and sometimes Rory’s wild ideas proved useful.. . .
Chapter 27
Gabriel doubted that he made a convincing Turk, but in the robes and turban Ramsay provided, at least he didn’t attract unwanted attention. Siçan lived in a seedy neighborhood not far from the docks. His compound consisted of several old buildings surrounded by a high wall that appeared shabby, but seemed very well constructed, with vicious-looking spikes around the top. A sharp-eyed guard let them through the heavy gate.
Inside, the main house all was spotless and luxurious. The Rat obviously did well out of his illicit activities. Siçan was a wiry middle-aged man with a gleam of wicked mischief in his eyes. The hand that had been cut off was replaced by a hook that would be useful for stabbing fruit or enemies. Gabriel assumed that the master thief took the hook off at night, or he risked killing himself in his sleep.
Siçan greeted Ramsay warmly and called for coffee. After a courteous exchange of greetings, Ramsay introduced Gabriel and Boran, speaking in English. “These gentlemen have a dire problem which must be solved very quickly, and only you might be able to help.”
Siçan studied Gabriel and replied in fluent Cockney-accented English. “I trust you are a rich man, because my services do not come cheap. Tell me your problem.”
“We need to secretly break into the palace of Gürkan and rescue two Englishwomen from the harem, and also Malek Reis of Algiers, if he is still alive,” Gabriel said succinctly. “And it must be done tonight.”
Siçan’s brows arched in surprise. “Gürkan! One of the wickedest men in the empire. He deserves a slow and painful death. But why is your hurry so great?”
Gabriel tersely explained the situation, including Gürkan’s threat to impound the ship and take everyone prisoner if they didn’t leave by the middle of the next day. “I’m not sure if he has the authority to do that, but I’m sure he has the malice.”
“With his position in the customs department, he could indeed.” Siçan frowned. “Much detailed information about the inside of Gürkan’s palace is needed.”
Boran spoke up. “I served in his guard, sir. It was said in the guardroom that deep in the palace cellars is a secret exit to the ancient tunnels that lie under the old city. I do not know if that is true, nor where such an exit might be, but I know well the palace and grounds outside the harem. I also know the dungeons. There are several, and worst of all is the black hole, a shaft in the earth that is impossible to escape without help from above. If Malek Reis still lives, that will be where Gürkan has put him.”
“I know the secret entrance because
a black eunuch escaped from Gürkan and he is now in my employ. He does not know the overall palace as well as you, but he knows the routines of the harem.” Siçan tapped his iron hook on the table, which showed the scars of similar tapping. “To break into the house is simple. Dealing with Gürkan’s guards and rescuing your prisoners is more complicated.”
He rang a bell and a scarred servant came in. Siçan rattled off a command in Turkish. Gabriel thought he was asking for two people to be brought to him. Reverting to English, Siçan said, “Black eunuchs are the only males allowed in the harem, so we need several, or men who can be disguised as such.”
Gabriel said, “I want to be part of the rescue. If I cover my skin with ink and wear a turban, I should be able to pass if the light is poor. The ladies will trust me, and I’m an experienced fighter if that is needed.”
Siçan studied him, still tapping the hook on the table. “The light would have to be poor, but I understand your desire to help. The ladies are dear to you?”
“Yes. One particularly so.”
A large, powerful-looking African man and a small woman in a head scarf entered the room and bowed to Siçan. He explained, “Kerem is the harem guard who escaped from Gürkan. He knows how the harem is guarded.” Siçan rattled off some questions and nodded at the reply. “Kerem will be glad to be part of this, but he doesn’t want to kill any of the harem guards if it can be avoided. Some were friends.”
Gabriel knew enough Turkish to reply directly. “There has been enough death. I want only to rescue Gürkan’s captives.”
Kerem nodded acceptance. Siçan turned to the woman and spoke to her at greater length, then translated. “Esma was a servant in the harem and knows many women who dwell there. She also knows where new slaves are most likely to be quartered.” Esma spoke again.
Looking interested, Siçan translated, “There is a Frenchwoman, Suzanne, who was a favorite, but her status is threatened because she has borne no child to Gürkan. He is not a good breeder, siring only several daughters, who flourished, and sickly boys, who died young. Esma says that Suzanne is concerned not only for her status, but for her very life. If she can be found, she might give us much aid.”
Better and better, assuming Suzanne was willing to help. “What size should the raiding party be?” Gabriel asked. “There are many men on my ship who would gladly volunteer.” He glanced at Boran. “Will you, Mülazım?”
Boran’s teeth flashed again. “Very gladly indeed.”
“Count me in,” Ramsay said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Since Ramsay knew Turkish and the city, he’d be an asset, but Gabriel asked, “Will it cause a diplomatic incident if you’re caught taking part in something like this mission?”
Ramsay shrugged. “It would, but I won’t be caught.”
Gabriel envied that confidence, and hoped it was contagious. “What will be the price of this raid, Siçan?”
The thief master considered. “Ten thousand British pounds paid in advance.”
It was a very large amount of money, but Gabriel thought that sounded reasonable for a miracle, and the funds were available. He glanced at Ramsay, who gave a small nod.
Gabriel said, “I’ll have to return to my ship to get the money, and also to talk to my officers. What more do you need from me, and when must I be ready for the raid?”
“Return here by three hours after sunset.” Siçan turned his attention to Boran. “Are any of Malek Reis’s soldiers African, and will they be willing to take part in this?”
“There are three,” Boran said. “Powerful warriors, and they will be honored to be asked.”
A few more details were discussed, and the meeting ended with a plan in place. Ramsay had to return to the embassy, so Gabriel and Boran walked the short distance to the Zephyr’s berth. Gabriel asked quietly, “Do you think this plan might succeed?”
“Inshallah,” Boran said. “It might. There is much that could go wrong, but God willing, we might rescue your ladies.”
Rory. He couldn’t bear to think of that bright, free spirit imprisoned. He would pay any price, including his life, to free her and Constance.
When they arrived back at the ship, he found Landers up and about with a clean bandage around his skull. Gabriel gestured for him to come down to the captain’s day room. When he explained the planned raid, Jason immediately said, “I want to go, too!”
“You can’t,” Gabriel said flatly. “The Zephyr must leave before noon tomorrow, and if we’re lucky enough to rescue the ladies, sooner than that. Make sure we’re fully provisioned and with feed and water for the animals since they’ll be making the return journey. The ship must be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
When Jason looked ready to protest, Gabriel said sharply, “That’s an order, Mr. Landers! If something happens to me, you’re the captain and it’s your responsibility to get everyone away safely.”
Jason drew a slow breath. “Yes, sir. Most of the provisioning has been done, but I’ll double-check that it’s all in order.” He got to his feet. “And by God, bring our ladies back to us!”
* * *
It didn’t take long for Rory and Constance to arrange their modest possessions in their new quarters. Then they had some bloodthirsty amusement building hairstyles around their whalebone busks. Constance came up with the idea of placing a busk high at the back of the head, then French braiding hair over the structure before allowing their shining locks to fall down from the busk and over their shoulders.
Rory had found a pair of small hand mirrors among the beauty instruments that were apparently necessary for harem inhabitants. She used them to study the hairstyle. “I rather like this. It resembles something my great-grandmother might have worn. All it needs is a bird’s nest for decoration.”
Constance chuckled. “I’m not sure where we’d find a nest, but there are plenty of flowers out in the courtyard that could be added. Let’s go out and look.”
“A good idea.” Rory was already feeling restless. How would she ever adapt to the confines of the harem?
She led the way outside, and she and Constance amused themselves with surveying the courtyard flowers and deciding which blossoms would best suit their hairstyles. They settled on small blue flowers for Rory and red ones for Constance.
They were about to return to their quarters when Suzanne approached them. Intrigued, the Frenchwoman asked, “Is that how European women are wearing their hair these days?”
Constance looked guilty, so Rory said breezily, “No, we were just playing as a way to fill time.”
“Eating is also good for that,” Suzanne said with a smile. “I was coming to summon you to the evening meal, which is a pleasant and time-consuming ritual.”
“Good!” Constance said. “I’m starving.”
“The food here is excellent,” Suzanne assured them as she led the way to a spacious dining room that opened onto the opposite side of the courtyard. Women were already gathering and there was much talk and giggling.
Servants held brass trays over their heads and arranged the food on a center table. Harem women collected what they wanted, then sat on cushions by low tables with their friends. No eating utensils, only fingers used with astonishing grace. Rory guessed that was a skill they must learn.
As Suzanne had promised, the food was good, composed of lamb and vegetables and cheeses and bread, and a vast array of sweets. The Frenchwoman sat at a small table with the newcomers and explained the customs and dishes they didn’t recognize.
The meal was far better than anything they’d had on shipboard. They would eat well, probably too well; many of the harem women were very large. Too much food and limited exercise were not a good combination. Rory now understood why she’d been considered skinny.
When the meal ended, servants delivered silver pitchers and basins for washing hands. As Rory dried her fingers with a towel embroidered with silver threads, an authoritative eunuch entered and spoke to Suzanne, then stood back with arms folded. The
Frenchwoman asked a surprised question and received a curt reply.
Expression tight, Suzanne said, “You are both summoned to Gürkan’s bedchamber later tonight. You must go with this man, the captain of the harem guard, to the Valide’s chambers, where you will be prepared.”
Rory felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach, and Constance looked ready to faint. “He wants both of us at the same time?” Rory asked, appalled.
“Not just you two. Also the widow of his relative is being summoned.”
Constance said in a shaky voice, “This isn’t good, is it?”
“No,” Suzanne said grimly. “Not good at all.”
Chapter 28
Boran helped Gabriel carry the heavy gold to Siçan’s house three hours after sunset. The group that gathered was sober and determined. Siçan produced robes that he said matched those of Gürkan’s harem guards and lit lanterns to guide them through the darkness.
Kerem and Esma had drawn up a detailed floor plan of the house and the harem. Siçan pinned it to the wall and led the team through the planned actions. It was straightforward. Boran and another of Malek’s men would go to the black hole deep in the cellars to discover whether Malek was there and alive. If he was, they’d free him and take him down to the exit that led to the underground tunnels.
Kerem, Malek’s other two African soldiers, Ramsay, and Gabriel would accompany Esma into the harem and immobilize the real harem guards. Then Esma would see if she could find where the ladies were held. Failing that, she would try to find Suzanne. There would be no killing if it could be avoided, but the expressions of Malek’s men said there would be no hesitation if killing was necessary.
If all went well, they’d collect the ladies and withdraw quietly, and the raid wouldn’t be noticed until the next morning. By then, the Zephyr would be well away.
If things went wrong, by morning they might all be dead.
Gabriel and Ramsay had darkened their English complexions so they wouldn’t stand out, then donned the uniforms. When all was in readiness, Siçan led them down two long stairways to the depths of his own cellars. As he opened a concealed doorway into dank darkness, he said, “One reason I bought this house was because it has two different exits into the old tunnels. If I’m ever attacked, my household can escape to a safer place.”