Blue Damask (11 page)

     Sonnenby sat for a long while staring at his hands.  Elsa watched him.  He did not appear anxious.  He did not appear frightened.  She moved a little in her chair to see him better.  His shoulders were steady, his breathing regular and he did not move his mouth as disturbed patients often did.  He appeared completely normal, like a man deep in thought.  She sat back and relaxed, waiting for him to speak.

     He startled suddenly.  His eyes rested on her for only a moment before he leaped from his chair and fled from the room, leaving her door wide open.  Davies gave her an astonished look through the open doorway before he sprinted after him.

     Elsa followed.  Her heels were slowing her down, so she kicked them off.  She had no idea where Sonnenby could be running to.  Back to his room?  To see Marshall? To get to a radio?  To the rail of the promenade?  She rejected that last thought, but pivoted on her toes and turned to the left and  headed through the double doors that opened onto the deck. 
I may as well run along the deck to be sure.

     Her eyes were sharp and she saw no one climbing the rail as if to jump.  There were a few people strolling, some arm in arm, others alone.  She dodged them as she ran past and did not acknowledge their shocked looks.  No sign of Sonnenby or Davies.  She did not know where his cabin was.  She stopped and bent over, hands on her thighs, panting.  A steward was at her side in moments.

     “Miss?  Are you ill?  Can I help you?”

     Elsa looked up and brushed her hair back from her face.  “
Nein. Danke
,” she breathed.  “I am looking for someone.”

     “Tell me who and I will locate them for you.”

     “Henry Sinclair, Lord Sonnenby,” she told him.

     “I can take you to his stateroom.”

     “Please.  Thank you,” she said.

     “Follow me, madam.”

     She followed him back inside and down the carpeted corridors until he lead her back to the first class staterooms.  The door to Sonnenby’s cabin was open.  The steward stopped and knocked on the doorframe.  Marshall emerged.  He gave Elsa a look that said he was not surprised to see her and casually tipped the steward who disappeared into the maze of corridors.

     “He is not here,
fraulein
.”

     “Where--”  She tried to enter the room, but he stopped her.

     “Davies is looking for him.”

     “Why won’t you let me in?”

     Marshall’s face fell.  He nodded reluctantly and gave her a slight bow, moving out of the doorway.

     She stood in the sitting area and looked at the carnage.  Everything had been disturbed.  Chairs were lying on their sides. The sideboard had been overturned.  Clothing was strewn about as each of Sonnenby’s pieces of luggage had been opened and dispersed.  This wasn’t a simple search.  Someone was very angry to have made the extra effort to toss things about.  Perhaps angry that they had not found anything.

     She turned to Marshall.  “Did he do this?”

     He shook his head.  “No, but he came running back from his visit with you to find his room like this.”

     “And where is he now?”

     “Davies is chasing him down.”

     She wandered among the dark trousers and white shirts on the floor.  Ties and garters hung from the legs of the overturned chairs.  She felt a little faint.  Whoever was bent on killing Lord Sonnenby was here on the boat with them.  Marshall knew this too.  His face was pale behind the ever-present stiff upper lip.  She met his eyes.  “Chasing him?  He ran out of the room?  Were you here?”

     Marshall tilted his head toward a door.  “We have adjoining staterooms.  When I heard the noise in here I opened the door and surprised the man as he was going through the luggage.  Lord Sonnenby arrived moments later and took off after him with Davies in tow.  I have alerted the captain.”

     Elsa imagined the chase through the many decks and down miles of corridors.  It would either end quickly or not at all.  There were too many places to hide, places to lose a pursuer.  She asked, “Did you get a good look at him?”

     Marshall nodded.  “Dressed in uniform like the staff.”

     “They will not find him, then.  He would blend in just by standing still and bowing.”  She thought about the steward who brought her to Sonnenby’s room.

     “The captain will have a roll call performed and any hastily discarded uniforms will be brought to my attention.”

     She wanted to sit down; she picked up a chair and righted it.  Marshall did the same.  They sat in silence, reflecting on this new twist as Davies marched into the room with Sonnenby by the arm.  She rose from her chair.

     “Thank God you are here, Miss.”  He led Sonnenby to her and sat him in the chair she had just vacated.  “Look at him.”

     She did.  He had a faraway look in his eyes.  She waved a hand in his face.  Nothing.

     Davies explained, “He just stopped running when he got to the stern rail.  He stood there leaning on it watching the churn in the water and then collapsed.”

     “Collapsed?”  She encouraged Davies to continue as she bent to look closer at Sonnenby’s face.  He was sweating and his eyes were vacant.  There was no need to take his pulse, she could see it throbbing on the side of his neck and across his forehead.  She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him to her side so his head rested against her hip.  He was as pliable as rope.

     “Right to the deck, Miss.  Fainted dead away.”

     “How long was he unconscious?”

     “Not more than a few minutes.  Another passenger splashed a drink in his face and I loosened his collar.  He opened his eyes. But he didn’t see.  He didn’t speak either.  Like that night on the train.”

     Marshall closed the door and came back to them.  He knelt so he was eye level with Sonnenby.  “Henry,” he said.

     Sonnenby did not move.

     “Get him a scotch, Davies.”  Marshall patted Sonnenby’s cheek.  “Wake up, Henry.”

     “That is unlikely to help, Mr. Marshall,” she informed him.

     “What do you suggest?”  His tone told her he honestly hoped for an answer.  He got to his feet.

     “Catatonia is not helped by anything except an injection.  Usually the patient recovers on his own, or does not.”

     Davies returned with a short glass of amber fluid.  He stretched his arm toward Sonnenby’s mouth.

     Elsa stopped him.  “He will choke on that, Davies.”

     “It helped once before, Miss.”

     She thought about that for a moment then took the glass from him and held it under Sonnenby’s nose.  He blinked and took it from her.  He tossed his head back and the scotch disappeared.  He shook his head then and sputtered, “God’s blood,” he gasped.  “Don’t ever give me anything younger than fifteen years.”

     She squeezed his shoulder.   “What happened?”

     Marshall stood before him and echoed her, “What happened?”

     Sonnenby took two deep breaths and handed the empty glass back to Davies.  “The good stuff this time from my baggage,” he warned.  “Not the ship’s.” To Elsa he said, “You are asking about the fit.”  To Marshall he said, “You are asking me about the intruder.”  He leaned back in the chair as Davies put another glass of scotch in his hand.  “Give me a moment and I will answer you both.” 

     He drained the second glass with closed eyes.  “Better, Davies.  I can’t tell you exactly what happened, Elsa.  I was chasing this man and then everything went black.  I have a vague memory of swirling heights and a long fall.”  He opened his eyes and she knew he was telling the truth. “It is your job to tell
me
what happens when I have these fits,
Fraulein
Doctor.” He flicked his eyes to Marshall.  “I lost him on the promenade.”

     “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

     “Only if I saw him running from behind,” he answered dryly.

     “Can you get up?  Are you recovered?  I want you to tell me if anything is missing.”  Marshall looked around the room.

     Sonnenby made to get up but Elsa pushed him down.  He looked up at her.

     “I say he rests a bit longer, Mr. Marshall.”

     Marshall nodded as if he had expected that answer.  “I packed most of your luggage myself, Lord Sonnenby.  I can’t for the life of me think of what he was looking for.”  He bent over the small side table.  “It looks like he went through your cuff links and tie tacks and clips.  He didn’t take any off them.  The cuff links are gold. I wonder what he was looking for.”

     “I have an idea.  I thought of it when I was in Miss Schluss’ cabin.”  Sonnenby staggered when he stood from the chair and it wobbled from the weight as he leaned on it.  Elsa could not tell if he wobbled from the scotch or from his recent exertion.  She reached for him.  He stopped her with a hand.  “You could not catch me if I fell.”  To Marshall he said.   “He did not find it in my luggage.”  He opened one of the smaller leather cases to show them a signet ring he kept in a small box.

     “I don’t dare wear this on my finger, and besides it is too small for my hands.”  He lifted the ring and tilted it so they could see the raised coat of arms on the flat surface.  “I received this upon my father’s death,” he told them.  “It thought it was merely a keepsake remnant of another time and tossed it in my dressing case. Later when my father’s solicitor visited me with the endless papers to sign he asked about it.  I showed it to him and he opened it for me like this,” Sonnenby flicked a thumbnail across the surface and the ring opened on a tiny hinge.  Inside was an empty compartment the width of his finger in size.  “It is empty now, but my father kept a key in here.”

     “Not much of a key,” Elsa said.  “You could hardly hold it in your fingers.”

     “No, not a key to a lock, but a cipher key.”

     “Why would someone in Damascus want a cipher key from your father?  And why would you have to die to provide it?” She asked him.

     “I think those are two separate issues,” Marshall said.  “The cipher is for what purpose, Lord Sonnenby?”

     “The combination to his safe.  Back in his office in London.”

     “The solicitor was unable to open it?”

     “Right.  He came to me to get the cipher from the ring.  It was empty as it is now.  He is the one who told me of its significance.”

     “I see.”  Marshall began to pace the sitting room.  Davies worked at righting all the furniture and picking up the discarded clothing.

     “So someone would track you down to get the safe combination,” Elsa offered.  “But Marshall is right.  Killing you does not get them the cipher key.  Killing you prevents you from performing in Damascus.  Any thief could steal a ring.  Any workman can drill a safe.  Why hasn’t it been forced open?”

     “Oh, I am certain it has been opened.  Someone had already taken the cipher key.  Someone made sure that I, personally, would not have access to the safe”

     “Then why would someone come looking for your cipher?”

     “Exactly.  It had to be someone who didn’t know it was already missing.”

     “No.  I think he was looking for something else,” Marshall picked up Sonnenby’s shaving kit.

     “What did your father keep in that safe?” Elsa asked.

     Sonnenby shrugged.  “The solicitor made it sound like it was just documents.  No cash or jewels or the like.  Father kept mother’s jewels in the safe at home and his money in the bank.  When he was in London he had no need of large amounts of cash.  Expenses were paid out on account.  The solicitor told me that the shareholders were in disagreement about the running of the company without my father.  He may have died with some secrets.”  His face told her he knew for a fact that his father had died with some secrets.  His lips thinned and his jaw tightened.  One cheek twitched.  “I think the safe was full of stock certificates.”

     Elsa tried to divert his thoughts.  “How do you feel now?  I think you should lie down and rest.  This has been quite a shock.”

     “I agree.”  Marshall stood at the port looking out to sea.  “Rest until dinner.”

     Davies bent down and picked up a small object.  “This didn’t come from your luggage, sir.”

     They bent their heads over the small object in Davies’ hand.  It looked like a dead mouse, but after Davies held it up closer to the light they could see it was a small leather purse, hair on the outside and thin leather laces tied it together.

     “Good God, what the hell is that?”  Marshall moved his hand as though to take it, but Sonnenby snatched it from Davies.

     “It is a charm.”

     “Bloody disgusting if you ask me,” Davies said.

     Sonnenby squeezed the little bag and rolled it between his fingers.  Elsa leaned in to try to see it better.  He looked at her when she got in his light and she pulled back.  He said, “It is a charm.  Bedouin charm.  It hung around his neck with these longer thongs and snapped off when the cords caught on the chair.  He pointed to a fallen piece of leather cord on the carpet.  “He will be distraught when he discovers it is missing.”