The bazaars of the Middle East were so colorful. And the loot one could find was staggering. Sitting at the crossroads of the eastern and western worlds, this was a shopper's paradise. If the shopper admiring it all had the chance later, she would spend days going through cloth, jewelry, perfumes, and one hundred other things.
Unfortunately, the purpose of her presence was not pleasure shopping, but official government business. The would-be shopper was Rebecca Fogg, of Her Majesty's Secret Service. She had traveled to Egypt by airship with her now penitent cousin Phileas, after a bizarre adventure that had nearly gotten them both killed.
Phileas had offered his airship to an old friend to travel to America with Egyptian plunder. On the way, he attracted a woman turned monster that Rebecca, Jules and Passepartout had to rescue him from.
Rebecca was just grateful she had been sent to America to get the mummy and sarcophagus back. She had watched women fawn over and gravitate toward her cousin all her life. She considered it ridiculous the way they fell in his path like flowers before the feet of a conqueror. Her much-spoiled cousin picked them up and enjoyed them with little thought. After this object lesson, she hoped he would become more discriminating.
After dropping off the illegally liberated sarcophagus of an ancient Egyptian priest to its home government with its pile of dust mummy in an urn; Rebecca went to the embassy to report and check in for the news.
The canal at Suez was having a few problems.
The war in America was expected to end soon.
A British merchant ship belonging to the Highland Trade Company had been stolen from the port of Istanbul eight days ago. Everyone available was visiting the larger import houses along the coast to look for their lost property. It was a given that the ship had been stripped and scuttled at sea. The cargo and everything sellable would have been taken to a port and unloaded on some unsuspecting or not so unsuspecting buyer for as much as possible.
Rebecca did not really need to join in such a mundane chore. She and Jules Verne had intended to enjoy the bazaar and have lunch together. This was only Rebecca's second trip to Egypt and Jules had been picked up on the way out of Europe. Yet, despite that, Rebecca volunteered for her friend Kathrine's sake.
"It is a shame the ship is lost," Rebecca said. "It was one of Katharine's new clippers."
Phileas made a mild comment, asking why she had to deal with such a thing. She showed him the manifest's front page. The ship was of British registry. Its name, the Mary Kate, owned by the Highland Trade Company of Scotland.
"Well, there's a name I have not heard in a long time," Phileas said.
Rebecca filled in for Jules. Their adventure with Lady McCollum, a spy named Queen Mary, who had been selling out hidden English agents to foreign powers, was quite a tale. Rebecca and Phileas had been instrumental in her protection and eventual deliverance from harm.
"Her very large protective family and us," Phileas added to his cousin's narrative.
Rebecca saved the telling of the lady's part in a matrimonial trap for Phileas and other better details for when Phileas was out of earshot. They would still enjoy the bazaar while she told the tale and combed through the four import establishments on her list.
Phileas, in his usual form, refused to let her go with only Jules for protection. No insult intended, of course, but Phileas didn't consider either of them safe in this place alone or together.
Rebecca would not admit it under torture, but Phileas might have had a point. They were both unfamiliar with the city, and newcomers disappeared when not careful. Rebecca, of course, was always careful, but red hair was something of a red flag here. It would not be amiss to have someone with her to avoid problems.
Phileas's reasons for going with his cousin were more concrete. Rebecca was a beautiful woman and heedless of danger, just the sort who would attract the wrong attention in this part of the world. Her defense skills were superb, but he would not trust that.
The first two places were too small to handle the large amount of goods the ship had lost. Clippers were passenger ships and cargo carriers. They moved on, looking for a larger dealer, and found it on their third visit. The ship had included good furnishings and sixteen matching area rugs. European wool rugs would be the easiest thing to look for in an area boasting one-of-a-kind handmade carpets.
The import dealer had a wide variety of stock. Rebecca searched for the furnishings; Passepartout searched for ship's stores, and Phileas mentioned rugs to the proprietor. The owner was Egyptian, a small man with a tradesman's eye for sizing up customers. He could see wealth coming a mile away and served the English couple himself. "I have many rugs," he said, watching Rebecca's attention settle on bed frames stacked against a wall.
"So I see, but I am looking for furniture and rugs for a shipbuilder. He needs twelve or fourteen matching rugs. I wouldn't expect you to have that, but I'm told you might."
"Not a problem, sir," the importer said in fair English. "This way, please."
They went deeper into the warehouse. He passed Rebecca, who had moved on to study a set of chairs with Jules. They were the right type. She pointed to the back of a desk and signed an affirmative to her cousin. She had found a marking designating the lost ship. Passepartout lifted an ornamental plaque with the lost ship's company name clearly painted on it.
The stack of carpets the owner led Phileas to was quite large. Only a few were laid out to view the pattern. All were oriental. They bypassed those to a stack of rolled carpets stacked into a small mountain.
"These were brought to me just recently," he said. "They came from a Turkish supplier, but these are European, and they all match. Unroll that one over there," he said in French to a pair of men working nearby. "This one was brought rolled and bound, never used."
The workers cut the binding and let the carpet unroll itself down the mountain of carpets. The coloring was the same as stated in the manifest.
Suddenly, all around them were terrified cries. The workmen backed off.
The carpet came fully unrolled, letting go of a bundle of deep blue silk wrapped in white linen. At one end, long strands of reddish-brown hair tumbled loose. The carpet had been hiding a body. It appeared to be that of a woman in an evening gown.
Phileas shuddered with a sick feeling, staring down at the woman's body. He wasn't sure but… He knelt, pulled the linen and hair away from the woman's face, praying he was wrong, but knowing different.
No, I'm not wrong. It is Katharine.
Phileas closed his eyes momentarily against the sight. Grief washed across the growing anger and confusion. They had not been told to expect a body. There had been nothing in the report speaking of an abduction.
A huge thing to omit.
Examining the body further, Phileas saw no blood. There were no bruises on the throat to show strangulation. Except for the deathly pallor, she looked very much as she had been the last time he saw Kathrine on her wedding day.
Rebecca, Passepartout and Verne came running at the commotion. Rebecca gasped in recognition. The Lady and Rebecca had been friends for a time. She knelt beside Phileas and touched the woman's face. Rebecca blanched, shouting for transport to a hospital.
Phileas checked the body himself, not believing what Rebecca was claiming. Yes, it was there, a very faint warmth and shallow breathing. Miracle of miracles, she was still alive.
The shop owner yelled orders in his native tongue.
People scrambled.