The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic (Daughters of the Empire Book 1)

by Suzette Hollingsworth

  If the truth be told, drink had more appeal to him than food at the moment, and he could not remember when he had last eaten.

  “You may enter, Lord Ravensdale,” the secretary said stiffly.

  As Val entered the connecting door into Sir Evelyn’s private office, the methodical neatness and cleanliness of the office was in stark contrast to the exterior. The building was outdated, bordering on dilapidated, but nothing was out of place in Sir Evelyn’s office.

  “Captain Lord Ravensdale.” The British Consul General studied Val for some moments without speaking, his face displaying no emotion. “I must say you don’t look well. Is your health failing you?”

  “Lord Cromer, you summoned me.”

  Sir Evelyn raised his eyebrows. “First, Captain Ravensdale, let me congratulate you on behalf of the Crown for your victory at Tel-el-Kebir.”

  Val’s expression froze into a stare as he nodded, his forced silence managing to keep his temper at bay. Though he was not terribly invested in control at the moment.

  “You appear to take no pride in a difficult victory, Ravensdale.” Sir Evelyn motioned to Val to be seated, who remained standing. Sir Evelyn studied him with a hard, expressionless demeanor.

  “That is correct, Lord Cromer,” Val muttered.

  Pouring sherry into a delicate crystal glass, Sir Evelyn offered the glass to Val, which he took, downing it in one sip.

  I killed out of rage and hatred, for revenge, not for any just cause. Not even for a false idealism. I bought into the spirit of things and killed in order to assert my country’s will on a people who refused to submit. I sympathized with my dead friend’s cause but I killed anyway, disregarding my own conscience.

  Never again.

  “Captain, I have heard through the grapevine that you are an expert on speaking and writing in Arabic, also in ancient Coptic.” Sir Evelyn leaned forward. He was generally known to take the direct approach. “Quite an accomplishment. You haven’t been in Egypt long.”

  “An interest of mine,” Val acknowledged matter-of-factly, but his suspicions were growing. As if to apologize for his gift, he added, “Languages come easily to me.”

  “Indeed.” Sir Evelyn’s expression grew even more serious as he swirled his sherry. “Ravensdale, you may or may not know that we are putting into place an interim government until the Egyptian government can be restored. There are bloody few people here—on our side—who speak both languages. There are many Egyptians who speak English, but I can’t trust them. They think we are the enemy.”

  “Astonishing.” What was their first clue? The dead bodies strewn across the desert?

  “I need someone I can trust,” stated Sir Evelyn evenly, even as he tapped his fingers on the desk.

  “Ah,” remarked Val, noncommittally. We come to the point. “Someone who is for British interests rather than for Egyptian interests.”

  “The two are one and the same.”

  “There are those Egyptians now dead on the battlefield who would beg to differ.”

  “I set the financial affairs of India straight and put the country in working order, and I will restore order in Egypt as well.” Sir Evelyn leaned back in his chair as he studied Val, who returned the favor.

  Everything about the consul general was neat and meticulous, from his three-piece suit with its satin sheen to his short, trimmed hair and perfect moustache to the books behind his desk. Val hated the perfect regularity of government officials, so different from the unpredictability of the battlefield.

  “Restore order? Could you elaborate, Lord Cromer?” asked Val carefully. One never went on the attack before all the information was in hand.

  He glanced up to see that the paint on the ceiling overhead was peeling.

  “Is it not obvious, Captain?” Sir Evelyn’s tone was hopeful. “We are here to help the Egyptians, to right the wrongs inflicted on them by their own royal family. Britain purchased the Suez Canal without bloodshed after King Ishmael backed himself into a corner through extravagant spending and subsequent massive national debt. We saw our opportunity to buy up the debt and did so.”

  “Ah, yes. Very unwise to amass a national debt which can be purchased by a rich enemy,” Val nodded in apparent agreement.

  “Enemy?” Sir Evelyn cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t catch your drift, Ravensdale.”

  “We were only just at war with Egypt,” Val offered, “as you pointed out when I arrived.”

  “I am now speaking of the purchase of the Suez Canal, all perfectly legal and above board.” Sir Evelyn tapped his pencil on the desk.

  “Beyond a doubt.” Val smiled broadly. “And yet, some charge that Egypt is the prototype for a form of imperialism which utilizes financial means to gain a foothold in countries with desired resources. Loans with impossible terms are the most frequently employed. Once the smaller nation defaults on the loan, an invasion follows under the guise of protecting national interests. In the end, the invading country controls the economic infrastructure of the smaller country and, therefore, controls everything.”

  Sir Evelyn’s hard expression turned cold.

  “Does the scenario sound familiar Lord Cromer?” Val pressed, waving his hand nonchalantly.

  “Certainly not,” Sir Evelyn replied, indignant. “We are here to assist the Egyptian people.”

  “We are gentlemen, my lord. Let us not dance around the truth.” It wasn’t that Val was ready to exit the army and go home. He simply didn’t care one way or the other. As far as he was concerned, he had nothing to lose. “Or would you care to call it a friendly visit with the murder of Egypt’s people, the forced entrenchment of our government, and the usurping of the natural resources?”

  “I would not. I would call it defending British interests with benevolence.” Sir Evelyn countered flatly.

  “Benevolence?” Val chuckled. “Is there such a thing as a benevolent takeover? Twenty wars in eighty years.”

  “Keep in mind, Ravensdale, that the vast majority of the British people fully support our presence here.”

  “It is not difficult to rally popular support for the assault on a non-Christian nation of immoral savages,” Val remarked offhandedly. “Was it not the Zulu King Cetshwayo who said, ‘First comes the trader, then the missionary, then the red soldier’?”

  “I certainly don’t regard the Egyptian people as such.” Sir Evelyn tapped his fingers on his desk as he studied Val with an expression that would have shot fear through a lesser man. “Simply a less developed people requiring our guidance.”

  “Guidance?” Val laughed outright. In an instant his voice became very quiet, though his tone was dark. “This was a violent act of aggression. Whether through legal means or not, it makes no difference. There was, in fact, an Egyptian uprising in response to the Crown’s takeover of Egypt, and a war ensued. Hence the Battle of Tel-el-Kebir. If not for British interference, the Mahdi would now be in charge, and more significantly, the Suez Canal would not be under British control.”

  “And what would that outcome mean for the Suez Canal and English commerce?” Sir Evelyn’s expression grew clouded and his tone demanding. “Disastrous.”

  “So it is acceptable to usurp a country if they have a resource which we want? I thought we were discussing the poor Egyptians who need our help. Suddenly we come to the real reason we are here: they had something we wanted, so we took it.”

  “I make no apology for placing the security of my homeland above all other concerns,” Sir Evelyn replied with finality.

  “Of course we should be concerned about security. But there are far-more effective methods to advance that goal. I would have expected the human race to be at a higher stage by now. We are clubbing people on the head because they have something we want.” Val studied his hands absently and then returned his full gaze to Sir Evelyn. “It’s not about solving the problem. It’s barbarism. A truly benevolent country would be helpful rather than opportunistic.”

  “Very true, Ravensdale. I share your c
oncern for the Egyptian people and am determined that we shall be helpful.” Sir Evelyn stared at Val a long while before responding, appearing to gather his thoughts. “I couldn’t agree with you more on this point. We have taken over Egypt’s finances, but the plan is to leave as soon as Egypt is able to run herself. And, believe me, I am the man for the job. I proved that in India. In all events, the queen thinks so.”

  “And what were your methods in India, Lord Cromer?” asked Val, sighing heavily.

  “Low taxation, being sensitive to the needs of the peasant population, and giving the public what they want before they ask for it.”

  “Giving the public what they want? You can’t be serious, Sir.”

  “I am.”

  “Regardless of how exemplary a job you do, Lord Cromer, you will be hated by the Egyptian people. This is a foregone conclusion.” Val shook his head. “Freedom is a fundamental desire and right of every people. Self-government is an unalienable right. No country is perfect. Britain is not perfect, but do we want other countries to force us to become better? We would blast them off our shores and tell them to mind their own bloody business if they stepped foot on our lands to assist us.”

  “Hmmm,” considered Sir Evelyn, placing his finger to his chin as he leaned back in his chair. “On what do you base your opinion of my unpopularity?”

  The British Consul was expedient in all things and unafraid of the truth; Val could not help but like him despite fury over Egypt’s occupation. Even so, Val had no intention of revealing names.

  “I keep my ear to the ground,” Val replied simply.

  “Just as I thought.” Sir Evelyn moved forward in his chair. “This is why we need you, Ravensdale. Egyptians assume you don’t know what they are saying and they let things slip.”

  “You want me to spy for you?” Val roared with laughter. The time for subtlety came to an abrupt end.

  “How do I anticipate public opinion? By penetrating the general population and hearing their unguarded words.” Sir Evelyn pointed his index finger at him. “That’s where you come in, Captain. Can you do it?”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “If I wished to. But it wouldn’t make a whit of difference, I can assure you, Sir Evelyn.”

  “And what would make a difference?” Sir Evelyn asked with genuine interest.

  “Leaving the country, naturally. Thievery and occupation is neither good diplomacy nor in the interest of our national security. Can we conceivably fathom the ill will we are creating for future generations? We have invaded Afghanistan—twice—Egypt, Russia, China, India, and the list goes on and on. How many enemies can we afford in the next century? As industry and weaponry advances, who is to say how many people will die in the next century as a result of the ill-feeling created in this one? The generations remember.”

  “You and I will nip that in the bud, Ravensdale.”

  “With all due respect, Lord Cromer, as we create better and better weapons, coupled with the hatred we have instilled, it is conceivable that we will have set into motion a destruction of vast proportions.”

  “You exaggerate, Ravensdale.”

  “What is your plan for Egypt, Lord Cromer?” Val demanded pointedly.

  “Peace. Prosperity. Stability.”

  Val noted that “freedom” was absent from the list but listened without interruption as Sir Evelyn cleared his throat thoughtfully. “The first task must necessarily be to put Egypt’s finances in order so that it can meet its debt obligations. We must, of course, ensure the continued operation of the Suez Canal, which is critical to both national security and British commerce. Then I wish to introduce electricity to Cairo. Let’s bring Egypt into the nineteenth century.”

  “The extreme poverty which exists in Egypt should make the English entrenchment an easy matter,” Val stated off-handedly, but his hands were clenched in anger. “King Ismail literally taxed his people to the point of starvation.”

  “No, absolutely not. We will never use poverty as a way to exercise control. It is both morally reprehensible and mismanagement.” Sir Evelyn’s expression was genuinely pained as he shook his head vehemently. “Prosperity is the only appropriate tool. Don’t you comprehend the facts, Ravensdale? The Egyptian people were beaten, starved, and taxed to death under King Ismail. People didn’t even have bread. They were living on barley meal mixed with water. It may offend your academic ideas of freedom for people to have full stomachs, Ravensdale, but it won’t disturb me in the least to put an end to suffering.”

  Val was convinced of Sir Evelyn’s sincerity and drive. Sir Evelyn Baring would plow forward with or without his assistance.

  “And the fact is I’m the best you’ve got.”

  You have me there.

  “Any number of men could be placed in Egypt who would care less about the peasant population or the efficient running of the country—the former King of Egypt being a notable example,” Sir Evelyn continued, his enthusiasm obvious. “And power does not interest me, nor wealth. Merely efficiency and productivity. I am a simple magistrate, nothing more. This is my talent.”

  Val studied Sir Evelyn’s awards on the walls, unconvinced of the simplicity of his character. “What is it you wish to know? Let me oblige you, sir, and then I shall be on my way.”

  “Captain Lord Ravensdale, you have shown me your hand quite clearly. Truth is your master.” Sir Evelyn tapped his pencil on his gigantic oak desk as if to prove that he was a mere pencil-pusher with a talent for administration. His voice contained a tone of finality. “I desperately need someone who can discern the truth and will tell me without fear or reconstruction. You are a rare find in this regard. And your sources are good if somewhat biased.”

  “Biased from the English perspective but not from the Egyptian’s. A terrorist from one perspective is a freedom fighter from another.”

  “Where we may differ in ideology, your skills and the information which you can collect for me is invaluable. In the end, we are both working for the Egyptian people and wish their greatest good. This is also evident to me.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “You would be court-martialed and sent home in dishonor.”

  “As I suspected.” Val shrugged his shoulders as if it were a matter of no moment with him, adding “I could always resign.”

  “That wouldn’t be the official entry,” stated Sir Evelyn, smiling warmly.

  There was a long silence, as Val contemplated actions which would lead to his hanging.

  “Let’s not start off on the wrong foot, Ravensdale. Your country needs you for a bit longer. That’s the bottom line. It won’t be long before you can go home. In the meantime, we all have a duty to fulfill, and as it happens, your unusual skills can actually be of use here.”

  Val raised his eyebrows.

  “Have you found a great deal of interest in your knowledge of the Egyptian language on the country estate?” Sir Evelyn pressed.

  As Val considered his options, his gaze rested on the velvet pillows adorning Sir Evelyn’s battered couch, new and untouched. They were out of place amongst all this deterioration, a rich royal-blue color, the purples and blues fighting each other for control. A slight breeze entered through the window, and the tassels wavered a bit.

  Val watched the tassels move with the wind. His reaction surprised him.

  Funny that nothing seemed more important at the moment than staring at velvet decorative pillows.

  Astonishingly, he suddenly felt more at peace than he had in weeks. The breeze brought the scent of frying meat, and for the first time in weeks, he was hungry.

  It might suit me to linger in Egypt a bit longer while I consider my course.

  He would never again act against his conscience, of that he was certain. Better to die.

  Easier to die.

  Glancing out the window, his eyes rested on beautiful painted papyrus and magnificent carpets for sale on the sidewalk.

  Not for the first time, Val considered that the Egyptians were an amazing
people with a rich and impressive history. They claimed one of the most advanced civilizations ever to have lived on the face of the earth. Two of the seven wonders of the ancient world had been in Egypt.

  Her people were strong, brave, intelligent, and proud. They suffered a temporary setback due to the greed and mismanagement of recent leadership. 120,000 Egyptians out of a total population of only four million people—more than one quarter of the population—died building the Suez Canal.

  Now, when the canal was starting to make a profit, the canal no longer belonged to Egypt.

  Val grew determined to assist the Egyptian people in whatever way he could.

  “Ravensdale?” Sir Evelyn asked.

  “Lord Cromer, I love England, and I have come to love Egypt.” Val shook his head, feeling the full weight of his inability to make a meaningful contribution to any endeavor he had yet undertaken. He might not have hope, but no one could say he was without discipline. “I doubt I can be of any service here, but I am more likely to assist being in the thick of things as not.”

  “Good.” Sir Evelyn nodded. “Cairo is a fascinating city, and we are now in peaceful times. Even as we speak, a new office is well underway for the Consulate, bringing jobs and income to Cairo.”

  “A new office? In these impoverished times?” Val looked about him.

  “Yes,” Sir Evelyn nodded. “Britain has purchased a fifty-acre park along the Nile’s east bank for the sum of £2,580. An excellent investment in valuable real estate. The building is progressing quickly.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” muttered Val.

  “The consulate building will provide both offices and living quarters. More economical that way. You shall reside there as will most of the staff.”

  “That is certainly acceptable.” The fact was he tired of living in a dangerous area, arising in the middle of the night to ward off thieves and attacks. It was not conducive to study.