Covert in Cairo (A Fiona Figg & Kitty Lane Mystery) by Kelly Oliver

Author:Kelly Oliver [Oliver, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2023-04-24T16:00:00+00:00

The Gezira Sporting Club was only ten minutes from the hotel in an exclusive section of Cairo. During the taxi ride, I pumped Clifford for information about the Arabic text written into the hem of the chemise and Harlequin jacket.

“You did ask, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” His tone was indignant.

He was so wound up and distracted, I feared I’d never get it out of him. As usual, he launched into a longwinded story about Gertrude Bell and Major Lawrence, this time involving a portable bathtub brought into the middle of the Sinai desert.

“Clifford!” I had to get rather cross with him.

Finally, he spilled the beans. “Baron Max Von Oppenheim, rich German banker and amateur archeologist, is working with the Ottoman Empire to stir up anti-British sentiment among Muslims in our territories.” He ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Including Egypt, India, and among the local Bedouins.”

Fredricks. His mission was to agitate and persuade the Bedouins to turn against the British. Could he be involved with this Baron Max Von Oppenheim?

“What has this baron chap to do with the codes in the garment hems?” I sincerely hoped this baron business was not another one of his digressions.

“Folks at the Arab Bureau call it the silk conspiracy.” He smiled. “Now, thanks to you, they know where to find the traitors.”

Heavens. The costume girl was involved in an international conspiracy. Hard to believe. For all I knew, her brother was a Turkish pasha.

The pieces were falling into place, if somewhat chaotically.

Now to find out why General Clayton had blood on his shirt and didn’t come home the night the Frenchman died.

Entering the club was to enter another world. The browns and tans of desert sand were replaced with sprawling botanical gardens with fields of green grass, acacias, jacarandas, and other colorful flowers.

Clifford told the gate attendant we were guests of General Clayton, which worked as well as any secret password. We stepped out of the taxi and into a horse-drawn open carriage driven by an Egyptian, who could work for the club members but wasn’t allowed to be one himself.

We passed a polo field where mounted cavalry practiced maneuvers. On the tennis courts, soldiers lined up for inspection. Even the sporting club had been taken over by the army.

“We have four polo grounds, two racetracks, thirteen tennis courts, cricket and croquet lawns, a golf course, and a tea pavilion.” The driver smiled back at us. “And, of course, the hunting grounds.”

Of course.

Sitting in the open carriage in the noonday sun wearing men’s trousers, jacket, and a full beard was sweltering. How I longed for a light summer frock. Men’s clothing might open doors, but the right women’s clothing could provide much-needed ventilation. I wondered if bloomers were cooler. I just might have to get some.

Kitty squirmed in the carriage seat. She was sitting on her hands. No doubt to keep from clapping them together in delight. The girl was altogether too excitable, especially when dressed as a boy.

The grounds of the club were so enormous, it took us longer to cross them than it had to reach the club from our hotel.

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