Panther's Prey (31 page)

The warden rapped the bars on Malik’s cell with his nightstick and said something in Turkish. Malik ignored him.

The warden spoke again, more sharply, and when Kalid saw that this would also be ineffective, he said in English, “It’s Kalid Shah here, Malik.”
 

Malik turned his head, and when he saw Kalid he sat up. Then his eyes moved to the woman standing next to Kalid.

Kalid said something in a soothing tone to the warden, and the turbaned man withdrew. He went through the door to his office, leaving the two guards and their rifles behind with the visitors.

Malik rose from the cot and came to stand facing Kalid, his hands gripping the bars. His cheeks were covered with beard stubble, his hair uncombed, his tunic ripped and stained.

“Amelia?” he said to Kalid. “How is she?”
 

Kalid looked at Amy, who lowered her veil just enough for Malik to see her face.

Malik’s reaction was not what she had expected. He looked at her incredulously, then at Kalid.

“Why did you bring her?” he demanded of Kalid in English, his expression anguished. “I don’t want her to see me like this!”

“Malik, I’m here!” Amy said, reaching her fingers through the bars. “You just asked for me, and I’m here!”

He turned away. “Go home, Amelia. This is no place for you.”

Amy put her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “Please, Malik, this is our only chance. Don’t send me away.”
 

One of the guards barked out an order behind them.

“He says we must speak in Turkish,” Kalid translated.

Malik looked back at Amy, who put her hand over his on the bars and mouthed the English phrase, “I love you.”

Malik closed his eyes.

Kalid said something to him in Turkish and Malik replied quietly. They exchanged a few phrases and then the guard who had spoken stepped forward and thrust the saber on his rifle in front of Kalid.

Kalid looked at Amy, who was staring at Malik, her fingers gripping the bars, tears streaming down her face. Kalid jerked his head toward the door, indicating that their time was up.

Amy gestured to Malik, who wouldn’t look at her. Then, just as she was turing away, despondent, he reached through the bars and seized her hand. He said something in Turkish, his eyes fixed on hers, then released her, stepping back.

The guard prodded Kalid toward the door with the tip of his saber.
 

Kalid lost patience and seized the saber, ripping the rifle from the guard’s hand and smacking him in the head with its butt. The guard sprawled on the floor, unconscious, and as his companion turned to train his rifle on the visitors Malik thrust his foot through the cell bars and tripped him.

When both men were prone, one insensible and the other distracted, Kalid faced Malik and whispered something quickly in a language Amy didn’t understand. She saw Malik’s face go blank with surprise, then change expression with lightning speed.
 

Before the second guard could rise the warden burst through the door from his office at the commotion, pistol in hand. Kalid faced him down with the first guard’s rifle, saying something surly in Turkish, kicking the guard’s leg derisively with his boot.

The warden slowly lowered his pistol. Then he gestured for Kalid and Amy to walk past him, speaking sharply to the second guard, who put down his rifle and bent to lift his insensate companion.
 

Amy looked back at Malik, who was watching her. She put her closed fist to her chest, then opened her hand, in a Yuruk gesture he had taught her which meant, “I give you my heart.”
 

Malik pressed his lips together and looked down, struggling for control.

Kalid grabbed Amy bodily and shoved her through the door before the warden changed his mind. She lifted her veil to cover her face, standing next to Kalid, trying to absorb all that had happened so quickly.

Kalid then entered into a fierce debate with the warden, complete with hand gestures and disgusted glances. Kalid simmered down only when the warden’s tone turned conciliatory, then apologetic. The pasha finally ushered Amy out of the jail, propelling her down to the street before saying, “Are you all right, Amelia?”

Amy shook her head, unable to speak.

He put his arm around her and said, “I know, that was very difficult for you. There was no way to make it easier.”

“I’ll never see Malik again,” she murmured, her face ashen.

Kalid said nothing.

“I was so frightened when you got into that fight,” she added, shivering.

“That arrogant bastard needed correcting,” Kalid said tightly of the guard, as his coach came toward them down the street.

“Why didn’t the second guard fire?” Amy asked.

“He was afraid to shoot the Pasha of Bursa, as I thought he would be,” Kalid replied.

“What did you whisper to Malik?” Amy asked. “What was that language?”

“The language was Arabic, and never mind what I said,” Kalid replied shortly.

The shattering experience suddenly seemed to overwhelm Amy, and she began to shake harder, her knees sagging.

“Steady,” Kalid said, his grip tightening. “Your ride is nearly here.”

The coach glided to a stop and Kalid lifted Amy almost bodily onto her seat.

Sarah took one look at the girl and said to her husband, “This was a mistake.”

“She’ll be all right,” Kalid said. “She’s strong, like you.”

“I can’t send her back to Beatrice like this,” Sarah said, glancing at her husband anxiously.

“I’ll tell the driver to take you to the Trakya Hotel and I’ll follow you there,” Kalid replied. “I’ll book a suite and Amelia will have time to recover.”
 

Kalid moved to withdraw from the coach and Amy grabbed his hand.

“What did Malik say to me?” she inquired, finally asking the question she’d been avoiding. “When he spoke in Turkish before we left, what did he say?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

Kalid glanced at Sarah, who nodded that he should reply.

“He said that he still meant everything he had ever told you, and that he would love you forever. If fate was not kind you should go on with your life, but to remember him, as he would always remember you,” Kalid said quietly.

Amy collapsed, sobbing, into Sarah’s arms.

Chapter 12

The maid deposited a tea tray on a table in the parlor of the hotel suite, then turned to Sarah and curtsied.

“Will there be anything else, my lady?” she said in a cockney accent.

“That will be all, thank you,” Sarah replied.

When the maid had left Amy said to Sarah, sniffling, “My lady?”

“A British concession runs the hotel, and they frequently bring young girls over from England to serve on the domestic staff. The promise of adventure in an exotic foreign land, you know. The only problem is the young ladies have a tendency to get confused about the local titles. Last year one of them called me ‘your highness.’”

Amy smiled wanly, then looked away.

“Feeling any better?” Sarah asked.

Amy bit her lip, tearing up again. “You know, I always had excellent self control,” she said, wiping her eyes with a corner of her lace handkerchief. “I didn’t even cry at my parents’ funeral. Then ever since I met Malik all I seem to do is cry. It’s awful, whimpering constantly like a kicked puppy. I’m ashamed of myself but I can’t seem to stop.”

“This has been a highly emotional time for you,” Sarah said soothingly. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“There’s really no hope for him, is there?” Amy said despairingly. “What he said at the end of my visit sounded too much like goodbye.”

“There’s hope until he is dead,” Sarah replied simply. “I wouldn’t give up just yet. Malik is amazingly resourceful and his men aren’t just going to stand by and let him be executed without trying to stop it.”

“But what can they do against the janissaries?” Amy cried. “There are too many of them and they are too well armed.”
 

“The rebels have been doing pretty well so far, and lately the janissaries have not been happy with the Sultan,” Sarah answered. “Their wages have been cut, they are getting paid late or not at all, and their time off has been curtailed. The Sultan is putting his money into buying foreign property instead of maintaining them.” Sarah stopped, as if considering whether she should go on, then said, “There are rumblings of a palace revolt.”

Amy stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”

Sarah nodded. “I think that’s what Kalid’s frequent disappearances are about; I suspect that’s why he took off as soon as he deposited us here. He won’t tell me anything but I know he is trying to bring the rebels and the janissaries together in a common cause.”

“How do you know?” Amy gasped.

“Kalid is not the only one who has spies,” Sarah said dryly. “Most of the women who work at Orchid Palace have husbands who are involved with the rebels or the janissaries. The wives talk to me.”

Amy clasped her hands together, hope brightening her features. “Oh, if only that were true! The Sultan would be nothing without the janissaries, his reign of terror would be over!”

Sarah held up her hand. “Now don’t get too excited, what I’m telling you is mere conjecture on my part, a conclusion I reached from listening carefully and piecing things together. I just don’t want you to give up when things might yet turn out well.” She stood and began to pace. “Kalid is betting that the Sultan will continue to be his own worst enemy. He’s too stubborn to allow a parliament and too blind to realize that the janissaries might turn against him, even when they see him pouring a fortune into European markets while they put in overtime and wait weeks for their salaries. Kalid has been working for a long time for a bloodless solution to all of this, and I’m sure Malik’s arrest has forced him to move up the timetable.”

“To save Malik?” Amy whispered.

“Yes, and to prevent the degeneration into civil war that is sure to come unless somebody intervenes to stop it.”

“How? How can it be stopped?”

“Kalid wants the Sultan to abdicate in favor of his younger brother. That would allow the title to remain within the same family and the figurehead to continue, but the brother is much more reasonable. To keep his head he would make the concessions to democracy that Abdul Hammid is now refusing.”

“Can Kalid convince them?”
 

Sarah shrugged doubtfully. “It would mean asking two traditional enemies, the rebels and the janissaries, to work together. I don’t know if even Kalid is that persuasive.”

“And it has to happen fast, if Malik is to be saved,” Amy murmured.

“My money is on Malik saving himself,” Sarah said tartly. “His ability to escape from tight spots is legendary.”

“You didn’t see the inside of that jail,” Amy replied. “It’s like a strong box, there’s no place to go. And he’s guarded at all times by men with long sight rifles, the new ones with barrel guides. I remember my father talking about them.”

“Malik will find a way,” Sarah said confidently.

Amy finally smiled. “You raise my spirits, Sarah, you have such a positive outlook.”

“That’s because I’m not in love with Malik and able to see the situation more clearly.” She glanced at the table and said, “Our tea is probably cold. Shall I ring for another pot?”

“No, that’s all right. I think I can go home now.” Amy rose and picked up her cape. The Turkish gown and veil she had worn to the jail lay discarded on a chair.
 

“Are you sure you’re composed enough to face Beatrice?” Sarah asked.

Amy nodded. “Thanks for giving me this time. Talking to you has really helped.”

“Do you think I can send you back to the house alone in my carriage?” Sarah asked. “I don’t want to go along because Beatrice is sure to ask me in and I want to be here when Kalid returns.”

“That’s fine.”

“Kalid and I will be staying the night here if you need anything,” Sarah said.

Amy nodded again. “Will you let me know if you learn more about Malik?” she asked. “Would Kalid let you send a rider from Bursa?”

Sarah patted her hand. “Don’t worry about that, you’ll be the first to know. You’ll just have to think of an explanation for Beatrice if a messenger arrives.”

Amy sighed. “I have told Aunt Bea so many lies I feel like Mephistopheles.”

Sarah chuckled, and with a wry smile patted Amy’s cheek. “‘Oh, that deceit should dwell in such a gorgeous palace,’” she said, obviously quoting someone.

“Is that Keats?” Amy asked.

“Shakespeare. He has a comment on almost every situation in life, and he’s always right.”

Amy smiled. “You’ll forever be a teacher, Sarah.”

“I’m afraid it’s like the priesthood, a permanent condition,” Sarah replied, rising and pulling the bell rope in a corner of the parlor.

When the maid arrived she asked that her carriage be brought around to the front of the hotel.