A Hundred Thousand Dragons (27 page)

Jack sat down on the window seat. ‘I seem to have let you in for some fairly swingeing official criticism,' he said eventually. ‘Help yourself to more coffee, by the way.'

‘It's not your fault,' said Ashley, pouring out another cup. ‘I
know
we're right, Haldean. I'm utterly convinced we've got the truth but I don't see how we can prove it.' He stirred his coffee absently. ‘I think the Chief is going to have to wait a long time for his word with Vaughan. Like you, I believe if Vaughan's gone off with Von Erlangen, it's a one-way trip.'

Jack made a frustrated noise. ‘I'm stuck. Vaughan's gone, Von Erlangen's gone and Freya's gone as well. We can't actually
do
anything. If we had the faintest idea where Von Erlangen had got to, I suppose we could ask the RAF in Transjordan to find him, but we can't ask them to fly round the desert on the off-chance. Although this lost city more or less has to be in the region of Q'asr Dh'an, once you've said that, you've not said much. And, quite frankly, even if we could tell the RAF exactly where to look, it's not really a matter for the air force, it's a police problem.'

‘It's a possibility, though,' said Ashley. ‘General Flint has more or less tied my hands, but Rackham might be able to make things happen. Especially if, as you believe, there really is a fortune out there.'

‘It all comes down to what I believe again, doesn't it?' Jack smacked his fist into his palm. ‘I believe that Von Erlangen is out in the Hejaz but I can't prove it.'

Ashley sat back and drank his coffee. ‘How about finding out which ship they left England on?'

Jack raised his hands questioningly. ‘What makes you think they went by ship? They could have easily taken the ferry across to Calais or Dieppe, down to Marseilles and across the Med from there.'

‘But Vaughan did go by ship,' said Ashley with conviction. ‘When I spoke to Oxley he said his master had gone by long sea. That means a proper ship, doesn't it? Not just a ferry, I mean.'

Jack stared at him. ‘Yes, it does. Hold on. Vaughan paid for Von Erlangen to come over from New York. I don't know if he paid for Freya or not, but she came anyway. He'd probably pay for Von Erlangen to go East and the chances are they'd travel together.' He clicked his fingers together. ‘That explains why Von Erlangen was hanging about in London. Yes, I bet he wanted his things from his room, but if he was travelling with Vaughan, he'd have to wait. There aren't that many sailings. It's not like a bus service. If we can find the name of the ship we can see if Vaughan was on the passenger list.'

‘Would he be under his own name?'

‘Why not? Vaughan's in the clear. He believes he's got away with murder and, thanks to General Flint, he probably has. Vaughan wants to find his lost city. I bet he hasn't a clue about the gold.'

‘I doubt whether Von Erlangen would have told him,' agreed Ashley. ‘It doesn't sound his style.'

‘You're right. God knows who or what Vaughan believes Von Erlangen to be, but he could have convinced himself that Von Erlangen's really after nothing more than an undiscovered Nabatean city and Craig was nothing more than a ruddy nuisance. Vaughan is looking forward to making a real splash. He mentioned Caernarvon and his discoveries in the Valley of the Kings when we talked to him, remember? He reckoned that this city would be even more important than Tutankhamen. This is shaping up to be the find of a lifetime and he can't get the recognition due to him if he's sloping round under a false name.'

‘That's true enough. Let's see if we can find out what ship he sailed on. The newspapers carry notification of sailings, don't they? That'll tell us.'

‘And Uncle Phil,' said Jack with a sudden grin, ‘keeps all the old newspapers. They're used for lighting fires and so on. I'm not sure where they are, though. Come on, Ashley, I'll ask Aunt Alice where they're kept.'

They found Lady Rivers in the garden. ‘The old newspapers, Jack?' she said, after he'd explained what they wanted. ‘They're stacked up by the boiler in the cellar. I'll show you where they are.'

They clattered down the stone steps into the cellars of Hesperus, where, in neatly separated bundles, back issues of
The Morning Post
,
The Daily Telegraph, The Times, The Daily Express
and
The Daily Messenger
were stacked in old tea chests.

Jack seized an armload of
Daily Telegraphs
and started to hunt through them. ‘Vaughan left the country the day I was attacked, didn't he? That's the 31st, Ashley. Got it! Not burnt yet, thank goodness. Shipping news, shipping news . . .'

He flicked over the pages impatiently, squinting in the dim light. ‘Here we are – page three.
Shipping Intelligence
. Wrecks and Casualties first – cheerful how they always start with that. Cape Town, Sydney, Valparaiso . . . Port Said! I bet they're heading for Port Said. Here we are. The mail boat
Burma
left London for Karachi at half past eleven on the evening of the 31st, calling at Lisbon, Gibraltar, Malta and Port Said. She calls at Aden, too, but that doesn't concern us.' He looked up in triumph. ‘Howsat!'

‘Well done, Haldean. When did the
Burma
reach Port Said?'

‘Hang on, hang on. I'm not a shipping clerk, you know, and they only give arrivals after they happen. They're worried they may end up as a Wreck or Casualty, I suppose.'

‘The journey takes about twelve days,' put in Lady Rivers.

‘Thanks, Aunt Alice. That gives us the twelfth of April, so we want the day after . . .' He seized another pile of newspapers. ‘Ships, ships, where are you? Why do they keep moving the damn column round? It's inside the back page, now. Bingo! The
Burma
reached Port Said on the twelfth.'

‘That's a few days ago,' said Ashley with a click of his tongue. ‘Still, I can check if Vaughan and anyone answering to the Von Erlangens' description were on board. Or, at least, Rackham can. At least it tells us where they were.'

‘Yes, but I could do with knowing where they
are
.' He braced his arms on the tea chest. ‘Even if they were on board, I can't see it gets us much further.'

‘The location's in that precious book of Von Erlangen's,' said Ashley. ‘Or so you think.'

‘Which is a fat lot of good to anyone.'

‘I'd like to see the book,' said Lady Rivers unexpectedly. ‘I've heard a lot about it. In fact . . . Jack, you're leaving soon, aren't you? Would you mind if I came with you? I can get the train back this evening. That'd be all right, wouldn't it?'

‘Of course,' said Jack, in surprise. He thought for a moment. ‘Let me give Bill a ring. I'll ask if he can bring the book round to my rooms. I want to tell him we think Vaughan and his friends sailed on the
Burma
too.' He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we have lunch on the way?'

‘I think that would be very nice,' said Lady Rivers. ‘You're packed and ready, aren't you? Let me tell your uncle and we'll be off.'

‘Go up to Town?' said Sir Philip doubtfully, looking at his wife after she'd run him to earth in the stables. ‘Yes, of course, Alice. I'll send the car to the station for you this evening. But why are you going? I've heard about this book and I can't see you're going to get anything out of it. From what Isabelle told us, it's just a lot of pictures. Arthur said they couldn't make anything of it. Nobody could.' He scratched his ear unhappily. ‘I can't see it'll do any good.'

‘It probably won't, Philip,' agreed Lady Rivers, ‘but you never know. At least the book will give Jack something to occupy his mind. Besides that, I hope as there's just the two of us in the car, he might get things off his chest. I'm worried about him.'

‘It's this ghastly business with this German feller,' said Sir Philip, shifting uncomfortably. ‘He'd be much better off not brooding over it. In my opinion,' he said with sudden insight, ‘this girl, Freya, or whatever she's called, is the trouble. She's complicated things.'

‘Yes,' said Lady Rivers quietly. ‘I rather think she has.'

As the sun set on the mountains of Steamer Point, Aden, Mrs Cynthia Coire sat upright in the button-backed plush chair next to the dressing table. She always sat upright; posture, training and disposition dictated it.

All the homely noises of Aden flooded though the open window. The creak of the waterwheel, the bray of a donkey and the shouts from the parade ground mingled with the musical, carrying voices of Somalis, the higher accents of the Hindustani cook and the occasional guttural note of Arabic. She was glad to be back. Noise in England had a grim, impersonal quality.

Her ayah served tea and Cynthia Coire relaxed, watching as Ayah unlocked her trunk. Her cup of tea was good. Ayah knew just how she liked it. Tea in England, in those new, noisy tea shops with palm trees and orchestras, often left much to be desired, both in quality and presentation. Here, in her own house, things were different.

It was good to be home. Mrs Coire's family usually travelled P&O but the mail boat had been perfectly acceptable.

Ayah opened the cabin trunk on the floor. The smells were richer here than in England. Flowers, hot earth, mustiness. Very musty . . . Cynthia Coire wrinkled her nose and made a mental note to inspect the kitchens. The cook wasn't going to serve second-rate meat disguised as fresh at
her
table.

Ayah rose from beside the trunk holding, not the sensible, well-cut suit of navy blue shantung that Cynthia Coire knew should be at the top, but a wispy creation in red.

Cynthia Coire glared at the excuse for a dress and sat up even straighter in her chair. ‘That is not mine,' she declared and looked hard at the cabin trunk. It was hers, no doubt about it. The trunk was new, bought from the Army and Navy Stores, only six weeks before. Her labels were on it, and there was the scratch which had cost the porter his tip at St Pancras. She looked closer. The scratch
wasn't
there.

Cynthia Coire crossed to the trunk and rapidly removed the top layer of clothes. And then, for the first time in her life, she screamed. Underneath three cocktail dresses and wrapped in a blue wool coat, lay the rather awful remains of Freya Von Erlangen.

FOURTEEN

T
aking her glasses from her bag, Lady Rivers looked at the book of watercolour paintings Bill Rackham had laid out on the table in Jack's rooms. She was glad Rackham was there. Jack hadn't said much, but she knew the strain he was under and guessed how volatile his mood was. The big, easy-going Rackham was just the sort of person Jack needed and she thoroughly appreciated his common sense. ‘Do you think this book contains some sort of message, Mr Rackham?' she asked.

Rackham ran a hand through his ginger hair. ‘I
did
,' he said cautiously. ‘When you look at the poem and so on, it certainly sounds as if it means more than it apparently all adds up to.'

Lady Rivers read the title page softly. ‘
A hundred thousand dragons lie, Underneath an Arabian sky
.
The Silent Ones, when asked, will measure, the hidden way to dragons' treasure. With a body once so fair, a princess guards the dragons' lair
.' She looked up. ‘I see what you mean. It has a sort of significant quality, doesn't it?'

‘Oddly enough, Aunt Alice,' said Jack, ‘it wasn't so much the dragons that got us going, but the quote from
Julius Caesar
.' He put his finger on the page. ‘
A Tide In The Affairs Of Men
, which, as Arthur pointed out, leads on to fortune. We worked out that the fortune in question was the gold from Craig's convoy.'

‘And so these dragons and so on don't really matter then?' asked Lady Rivers in disappointment.

‘That's what my expert concluded,' said Rackham. ‘Apparently those words mean exactly what they say. Which isn't very much,' he added in an undertone.

‘I don't agree,' said Jack. ‘You see, I had a bright thought about those dragons.' Lady Rivers breathed a little sigh of relief. She'd been right; he needed to get his teeth into something.

He cocked his head as the telephone in the hall rang. His eyes gleamed with suppressed excitement. ‘And if I'm lucky, that's my answer. I'll be back in a tick.' Lady Rivers and Bill Rackham looked blankly at each other as Jack left the room.

When he came back, he had a broad smile. ‘Got it!'

‘What?' asked Lady Rivers.

Jack grinned. ‘That was Bingo Romer-Stuart on the phone from the War Office. I asked him how much gold was in this convoy of Craig's.' He took a flat brown leather box from his pocket. ‘I'd like you to look at this. It's the present Arthur gave me for being his Best Man.'

‘It's a watch and chain,' said Lady Rivers, puzzled, opening the leather box. ‘I know.'

‘And Arthur had it inscribed with my name and the date.'

‘Well, so he did . . .'

‘And he also attached a newly minted sovereign to the watch chain. It looks good, doesn't it?'

Lady Rivers held the watch in her hand. ‘I don't see what you're getting at, Jack.'

‘Look at the sovereign, Aunt Alice. Look at the picture on the coin.'

‘It's the King.'

‘And on the reverse?'

Lady Rivers turned the coin over and stared. ‘It's a
dragon
. St George and the dragon.'

‘Exactly!' said Jack in delight. ‘And the convoy consisted of gold. Gold sovereigns.'

Bill Rackham gasped. ‘Blimey! How much was there, Jack?'

‘A hundred thousand pounds in gold sovereigns. Or, to put it another way, a hundred thousand dragons. Bill, this book
has
to contain a message.'