Snuff the Magic Dragon (and other Bombay Family Bedtime Stories) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) (8 page)

Stephen did not look too sure of this. He sized us up beneath his thick lashes. Clearly he wasn’t sure what to make of two Englishmen dressed as Egyptians.

“I’m going to Hungary for a brief visit, and I need a guide and interpreter,” I said to the boy. “I will pay you a great deal more than you are making with his Lordship. Are you interested?”

Stephen tried to control his eyes, but the light shining in them at the mention of Hungary was difficult to disguise. The boy clearly wanted to go back home. But he was smart enough to hold out for more information. I liked him immediately.

“You will need to dress differently…” Stephen said. “But yes, I’d be interested.”

At that moment, Tristan and Isolde waddled into the room, most likely to pirate some figs. They spotted Stephen, and to my surprise, leaped into his arms and began nuzzling the boy with their bills. Stephen giggled and squealed as Isolde scolded him, then ran her bill through his hair, looking for parasites. From that moment on, the pair of birds followed the boy everywhere, even sleeping with him at night. It was quite charming, really.

I instructed Julian to make the arrangements and to set Stephen up in the guest bedroom. If Julian was surprised that I wasn’t putting the boy in the servant’s quarters, he did not show it. Of course, Julian occupied the second-largest bedroom in the house, so he’d have no reason to complain.

I was quite pleased that I now had my translator and guide. I just needed a plan—something that would get us into the castle, the correct method for the assassination, and means to escape. And I needed to do it all without Stephen finding out what we were actually doing in Hungary.

Baggie took his leave the very next day. I begged him to stay on, but he said he had an assignment waiting on him back home. Something in France. I did not question him further as it was strictly forbidden to know what other Bombays were working on. I had enough to think of on my own. I embraced my brother and sent him on his way with the package for little Stratford. I promised to visit when Rolfie came home with his new, Indian bride. I was sorry to see my brother go.

While Julian made the necessary arrangements for our journey—travel, packing and so on—I picked Stephen’s brain for information on the culture and landscape we would soon be breaching. The boy was very forthcoming with information, and I sensed that he was desperate to go back home.

“How did you come to be orphaned, Stephen?” I asked during one of our discussions a few days later. I was becoming quite fond of the child, and he seemed eager to please.

“My parents were killed in an Ottoman attack when I was seven, sir. I lived here and there until Lord Allen found me and brought me back here with him.” Isolde sat in his lap and he petted her. Tristan was nibbling gently on the boy’s toes. Maybe he thought they were figs.

“Do you like working for Lord Allen?” I asked. The aristocrat had the reputation of being a hothead. Two wives had died under his care, and two more had abandoned him. He had no children, and I wondered if this was why he’d taken on young Stephen.

The boy squinted warily at me, and I realized that he was worried I might tell Lord Allen what he’d said. Clever boy.

I shook my head. “I have no intention of saying a word to his Lordship. I barely know the man. And you do not have to answer that question.”

Stephen was silent for a few moments. “He’s all right, I imagine. He has a bit of a temper though.” The boy looked at the door, and then back at me. “You really won’t tell him I said that?”

“No. I really won’t,” I promised, wondering what the boy had been through.

Over the course of the next few days, Stephen reviewed maps with me. To my surprise, he was very familiar with Cachtice Castle, where Elizabeth was being held.

“My mother used to work there as a cook,” he explained. “I played in the hallways as a boy.”

I was about to remind him that he still was, in fact, a boy, but something in his eyes stopped me.

“I don’t recall the Ottomans breaching Cachtice. How did your parents fall into their hands?”

Stephen frowned. “My mother got a job on the border with Turkey, cooking for the troops. My father was a soldier there, and she wanted to be near him.” He didn’t say another word, so I didn’t press him.

“Are you familiar with the Bathorys?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could.

Stephen sniffed. “They seemed nice enough. Except for that woman. I knew one of the girls she killed. Her name was Marie, and she used to look after me when I was little.” He looked so sad I wanted to stop him from saying another word. “The Countess told her she could be one of her ladies in waiting,” Stephen continued, a note of sorrow in his voice. “I never saw her again.”

I dismissed Stephen and sat at my desk for a long time, thinking of my method to get to the Countess. It was quite a happy coincidence that the boy knew the inside of the castle well, but the success of this mission still rested on one thing—the delivery of the poison. I had decided on a plant-based poison and narrowed it down to five possibilities: curare, lily of the valley, monkshood, Star of Bethlehem and Tanghinia, otherwise known as the Ordeal Bean of Madagascar.

Julian had managed to acquire for me a small blow dart tube and a couple of tiny darts. You really could find anything in Cairo these days. True, we were no longer on the Silk Road, but merchants came from all over three continents to trade here. The darts and gun would be impossible to trace.

I frowned. But that would mean I’d left something behind to trace. How ignorant of me! I’d found the method and means of delivery, and planned so that it would look as though the Countess died of natural causes, but I’d forgotten that I’d be leaving a dart behind!

This would not do. I needed to remove the dart before the body was found. But how? I couldn’t very well walk through walls to go and get it—although that
would
be fabulous. I could wait for the guard to bring Elizabeth her dinner and overpower him—but then there was a witness. And leaving a dead body behind was evidence. Killing an innocent was against the Bombay Code and could bring unpleasant repercussions from the Council.

“Sir?” Julian appeared in the doorway with a platter of figs and wine. I nodded, and he placed the tray on my desk.

“What is for dinner?” I asked absently.

“Sea bass,” Julian answered. “Will that be all, sir?”

An idea quickly formed in the recesses of my brain and I smiled. “No. Could you send someone to the market to pick up the strongest silk thread they can find?”

Julian nodded. “Of course, sir. Any particular length or color?”

I shook my head. “Color does not matter, but I would like several yards if possible.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll have it for you within the hour.” And with that, Julian took his leave.

It was the sea bass that gave me the idea. Fishing! I just needed to tether the darts to my person. After deploying, I could then retrieve the dart via the silk thread and—voila! Nothing left behind! I’d use silk because it was the strongest and most durable material, and I was certain it would not break when retrieving it. Brilliant! Once again, Julian had helped me without knowing it. I really must see to his care if something were to happen to me. Not that I planned on that happening, but the Bombays were nothing if not prepared.

Stephen and I made ready to leave the very next morning. Reluctantly we donned traditional Hungarian clothing in hues of blue and saffron, complete with heavily ornate dolman jackets with slit sleeves. The heat was stifling, but once we crossed into Southern Europe the weather would relent somewhat. I wasn’t fond of the costume. The Hungarians were a bit dated in their fashion sense. Still, what could I do?

Julian had the carriage ready to take us to the sea, where we would board a boat to cross over to the Ottoman Empire. Tristan and Isolde seemed to sense Stephen was leaving and clutched his feet, squawking their displeasure. I wondered if they thought they were his parents. Stephen seemed sad to part with the Dodos, and Julian gently extracted the fat little birds from his feet.

We didn’t say much in the carriage or on the boat. I’d made it clear to Stephen that no one was to know where we were going, and he was very fastidious about keeping up his end of the bargain. Upon entering the Ottoman Empire, I spoke because I knew Turkish. As soon as we made our way into Hungary, Stephen did the talking, and I became mute.

The night before we reached Cachtice Castle, Stephen and I sheltered in a small cave only a short mile away. It was primitive, and I missed my modern conveniences. Sigh. The
things
I do for my job!

“I used to hide in here all the time,” Stephen said quietly as we unpacked and set up our dinner for the night. “No one has seen us, so no one knows we are here.”

His revelation startled me. The boy was taking to this secret life a bit too easily. And while I admired him for it, it made me uneasy. I worried Stephen might be just too clever for his own good on this mission. I tried to shake off the feelings of discomfort, but as we drew closer to our target, it slowly became clear to me just how much I needed the boy to help me carry out the plan. I didn’t speak the language or know the layout of the castle like he did. Which had been fine when he was a simple hired translator. But I suddenly realized that through our discussions I had given far too may clues away as to the nature of my visit to Hungary. And Stephen was far too clever to dismiss them. However, according to the Bombay Code, you couldn’t include outsiders in your assignment unless you planned to frame them for the assassination. Or kill them. If I involved Stephen I would have to dispose of him. No loose ends.

I thought about this disconcerting fact as we lay down to sleep that night. Listening to the boy’s gentle snoring made me realize with a heavy heart that I would, in fact, have to dispose of him when this was over. He would simply know too much.

This was the main reason that I’d kept Julian in the dark all these years. No one outside the family was supposed to know we were assassins. It had worked quite well for thousands of years. Who was I to break the rules now?

Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want to hurt Stephen. And yet, that was exactly what I had to do. No one would know. No one would care. Lord Allen would certainly understand. Though I was sure Tristan and Isolde wouldn’t.

This was truly terrible! I could no sooner kill this sweet boy than I could be happy toiling away in the dull gray of England. My stomach began to ache, and I was working my way up to a violent headache.

Pushing these thoughts from my mind, I focused on the job. My complete lack of knowledge of Hungarian and the castle made it crucial for me to employ Stephen. At this point, I had no choice. Doubt tried to slip through the cracks in my logic, but I shut it down. We were too close to back out on the job, and it wasn’t like I could do that anyway. I would have to take this one step at a time. That was the only way I’d make it through this.

In the dark, early hours before dawn, I woke Stephen and explained that I had an assignment for him. I needed him to enter the castle, find Elizabeth of Bathory’s prison, observe the movements of the guard throughout the day and report back to me here, in the cave. I made it perfectly clear he was not to be seen, and he was not to mention me or the cave in any way.

To my sorrow, the boy was eagerly excited about the mission. He reminded me of myself and Baggie at that age. This was a lark for him. It was murder for me.

The day passed with agonizing slowness. It was cool and damp in the cave, but no one came near me. I was tormented by grief at the thought that I had to kill young Stephen. He reminded me so of my godson Stratford. If only it were Stratford. Then he’d be a Bombay, and this would merely be a training exercise.

The minutes were achingly long. I ate from our rations for lunch, teatime and dinner in solitude. And for the first time, I felt the sharp pang of loneliness. I tried to head it off by preparing the poison and darts.

The Tagena tree nuts were easy to transport. Using a stone, I smashed the nuts carefully and pounded the kernels into a white mash. Adding a little water to keep the substance together, I scooped the substance into a glass jar and screwed on the lid tightly. The stone, on which I pulverized the nuts, I tossed deeper into the cave.

Carefully I withdrew the darts and tied a few yards of silk thread to the back of each one of them. Back in Cairo I had honed my blow dart skills, and I was certain I could hit the Countess with great accuracy even if she was moving. I packed up my weapons and waited.

I knew I couldn’t kill Stephen until we were done. I needed him at least until I came to the border. Whatever I did would have to be quick and painless. The boy would have earned a quiet death. My heart burned at what I had to do.

Sometime after evening had fallen, Stephen returned to my cave and my stomach dropped at the sight of him. He carried a stick with him, and after I offered him some food, he began to draw upon the cave floor.

“The castle wall is circular,” he said happily. He drew an inner corridor to a small staircase that went up about twenty steps. At the top, he drew a room. “This is where she’s being held. There’s only one door and no windows.”

Stephen drew a door with one slot about one third of the way down from the top. The slot was the width of a fist, and I was certain I could both aim and hit my target through it.