Chapter 14/ Flushing out devils

Rebecca went walking down the street in the bazaar, with Verne in tow. Jules was studiously watching the crowds. That was difficult, as the crowd was immense. It was a sea of people he hadn't seen the likes of since last year's Carnival in Paris.

They were working their way to a less crowded street. It was a planned expedition to flush out whoever might follow them. Rebecca looked at scarves and cloth and local dresses as they went. He made a few stops at different carts. Verne left her for a time milling a block away, not so far as to lose her, but enough to make any follower have to leave Rebecca to keep him in sight. If there were more than one, they would know.

They finally reached the empty end of the street. They wandered down another two streets, stopped for tea at an open-air cafe. Sir James joined them after ten minutes. Jules didn't see the man approach. He just appeared near their table. "Good day, Miss Fogg, Mr. Verne," he said. "Enjoy your walk?"

"I will have if it was fruitful," Rebecca said.

"I'd say it was," Sir James said. He sat down with them and ordered tea for himself. "There was one following you," Sir James said to Rebecca. "He ducked away as you sat for tea. Samuel picked up the chase as soon as he reached the end of the street." Sir James gestured to the alley leading back to the Hotel.

Two of the company ships had left the evening before. They would look for the third and convoy back to Scotland. Only Sir James, Samuel, Captain Abel and Mr. Robertson were still in Alexandria.

The pirate captain was being held at the British embassy, a safe, comfortable place for him. He told his crew to disappear into the city until further notice. They did so quickly and thoroughly.

After they finished their tea, they left the bazaar for the hotel. Captain Glenshire met them in the lobby. The three Scotsman were using the suite vacated by the Earl and Lady. They waited in the main sitting room for Robertson.

The old man came in shortly with a grin on his face. He was dressed in a local costume, with a black cloak. "There are two followers and one man to whom they report," he said. "They followed only Miss Rebecca. When you, he said to Verne, wandered off, they didn't follow. No one followed Samuel from the hotel when he left."

"And no one went after you when you left," Sir James added.

"One broke off to report your jaunt into the bazaar," Robertson continued. "The other stayed with you until you reached the hotel. They both reported to the same person."

"Now we need to see if out if the one taking reports signals anyone," Rebecca finished.

"That will require closer work," Robertson said. "I may have to get into his building to see that much."

"Can you do that?" Jules said. "These people were supposed to be merchant seaman, not agents of the crown. It amazed Jules at the ease they did this sort of thing."

Robertson smiled at him. "I certainly can. What's more, I'm going to need a bit of help from you to do it. Care to do some sneaking around this evening?"

Jules grinned, joining him in his plotting. The older man seemed to relish this. Robertson and Sir James were as comfortable with the art of intelligence gathering as Rebecca. Where did he learn such things?

Chapter 14/ Flushing out devils

Rebecca went walking down the street in the bazaar, with Verne in tow. Jules was studiously watching the crowds. That was difficult, as the crowd was immense. It was a sea of people he hadn't seen the likes of since last year's Carnival in Paris.

They were working their way to a less crowded street. It was a planned expedition to flush out whoever might follow them. Rebecca looked at scarves and cloth and local dresses as they went. He made a few stops at different carts. Verne left her for a time milling a block away, not so far as to lose her, but enough to make any follower have to leave Rebecca to keep him in sight. If there were more than one, they would know.

They finally reached the empty end of the street. They wandered down another two streets, stopped for tea at an open-air cafe. Sir James joined them after ten minutes. Jules didn't see the man approach. He just appeared near their table. "Good day, Miss Fogg, Mr. Verne," he said. "Enjoy your walk?"

"I will have if it was fruitful," Rebecca said.

"I'd say it was," Sir James said. He sat down with them and ordered tea for himself. "There was one following you," Sir James said to Rebecca. "He ducked away as you sat for tea. Samuel picked up the chase as soon as he reached the end of the street." Sir James gestured to the alley leading back to the Hotel.

Two of the company ships had left the evening before. They would look for the third and convoy back to Scotland. Only Sir James, Samuel, Captain Abel and Mr. Robertson were still in Alexandria.

The pirate captain was being held at the British embassy, a safe, comfortable place for him. He told his crew to disappear into the city until further notice. They did so quickly and thoroughly.

After they finished their tea, they left the bazaar for the hotel. Captain Glenshire met them in the lobby. The three Scotsman were using the suite vacated by the Earl and Lady. They waited in the main sitting room for Robertson.

The old man came in shortly with a grin on his face. He was dressed in a local costume, with a black cloak. "There are two followers and one man to whom they report," he said. "They followed only Miss Rebecca. When you, he said to Verne, wandered off, they didn't follow. No one followed Samuel from the hotel when he left."

"And no one went after you when you left," Sir James added.

"One broke off to report your jaunt into the bazaar," Robertson continued. "The other stayed with you until you reached the hotel. They both reported to the same person."

"Now we need to see if out if the one taking reports signals anyone," Rebecca finished.

"That will require closer work," Robertson said. "I may have to get into his building to see that much."

"Can you do that?" Jules said. "These people were supposed to be merchant seaman, not agents of the crown. It amazed Jules at the ease they did this sort of thing."

Robertson smiled at him. "I certainly can. What's more, I'm going to need a bit of help from you to do it. Care to do some sneaking around this evening?"

Jules grinned, joining him in his plotting. The older man seemed to relish this. Robertson and Sir James were as comfortable with the art of intelligence gathering as Rebecca. Where did he learn such things?

The next evening, Rebecca took a coach to the city's edge. Robertson and Verne were in their place, waiting for the informants to show up. The Scots had taken turns for over 24 hours watching to see if the reports given on Rebecca were reported to anyone or sent one away at a local telegraph office. No one came to call, and no messages were sent.

Robertson and Verne dressed in local outfits, complete with turbans. They wore black cloaks to help hide them in the streets. The old man settled himself on the ground along a wall, as they had seen beggars do all over the city. Verne joined him. They had a good view of the street in two directions and the entrance to the alley that went behind the building they were watching.

Jules Verne sat quietly. Then curiosity started eating him anew. He had to ask. Jules just had to. "How do you know about this sort of thing?"

"What sort of thing," Robertson said. "Chasing down riffraff or catching people following others around?"

"Both," Jules said.

"My boy, I was a marine at sea for fifty years. I started out in the American Navy beside my father. I earned my place with the Marines of the American Navy when I was sixteen. They mistakenly thought I was twenty," Robertson confessed. "I was big for my age. The Marines do a lot of reconnaissance and early attacks. I learned this from them. Then I picked up other skills in the Caribbean when I left the Marines."

Robertson took down both streets and the entrance door. "Keeping wharf thugs and pirates at bay was a full-time job before steam ships came along. It required a lot of pub crawling, and consorting with the enemy to know what they were doing. The Highland Trade Company doesn't have any of those infernal things yet. My lady went with clippers instead when she took over the running. I suspect she will switch over when they can outrun a clipper. For now, the fleet still runs sails."

Jules could tell he would be sorry when that day came. It would be an end to an era for him. Jules had caught a vision in his mind of a time when sailed ships were pleasure crafts only. Steam and electromagnetic powered ships would rule the sea, running faster than any schooner or clipper ever imagined. He could almost see it in front of him. Jules turned it in his mind to get a good look. He needed his notebook to record this. Concentrating, Jules examined the engines, the propulsion… The engine design in his drawings lacked these details.

This is different from what I saw before.

A hand touched his arm.

The engine disappeared. Verne looked around. Someone was coming up the street. A small man walked down the street, looking both ways before ducking into the building.

"Time to go to work," Robertson said. He got up and led the way into the building. It was Rebecca's watcher. Verne stood watch in case another showed up.

"Knock on the wall loudly three times if anyone comes," Robertson said.

Verne waited; all was empty and quiet. After a few minutes, Robertson came back. He pushed Verne behind a curtain toward the back door and out into the alley.

Two men came down the stairs within seconds, leaving the building through the front door. They circled, waited only a moment to give them a lead.

Verne followed beside Robertson closely. He stopped at a corner, waved, and held his place. He pointed to a corner a block away. Jules didn't see anything at first, only a shadow. Then the shadow moved. The shadow was Sir James. He was in local garb, too, following the two men like a cat.

"They are going to the telegraph office," Robertson said. "We will get rid of these pests there."

The men entered the telegraph office, but did nothing at first. They just waited. Sir James entered the offices with them. It was next to a train depot. He settled himself on a bench. Robertson and Verne entered after ten minutes and did the same thing. Another twenty minutes went by before the second informant showed up. He went straight to the other two and spoke to them in broken French.

Jules heard one say, "She left the city, heading west into the desert," the newcomer said.

The man taking the reports stood and filled out a message form to give the telegraph officer. He handed it to the man at the clerk's desk and left the building, followed by the two watchers. Their quarry moved two steps into the street before being jumped by agents working with Rebecca.

The clerk at the telegraph desk handed the message form to Sir James. "Give this to Miss Fogg with my regards and wishes for a safe voyage."

The next evening, Rebecca took a coach to the city's edge. Robertson and Verne were in their place, waiting for the informants to show up. The Scots had taken turns for over 24 hours watching to see if the reports given on Rebecca were reported to anyone or sent one away at a local telegraph office. No one came to call, and no messages were sent.

Robertson and Verne dressed in local outfits, complete with turbans. They wore black cloaks to help hide them in the streets. The old man settled himself on the ground along a wall, as they had seen beggars do all over the city. Verne joined him. They had a good view of the street in two directions and the entrance to the alley that went behind the building they were watching.

Jules Verne sat quietly. Then curiosity started eating him anew. He had to ask. Jules just had to. "How do you know about this sort of thing?"

"What sort of thing," Robertson said. "Chasing down riffraff or catching people following others around?"

"Both," Jules said.

"My boy, I was a marine at sea for fifty years. I started out in the American Navy beside my father. I earned my place with the Marines of the American Navy when I was sixteen. They mistakenly thought I was twenty," Robertson confessed. "I was big for my age. The Marines do a lot of reconnaissance and early attacks. I learned this from them. Then I picked up other skills in the Caribbean when I left the Marines."

Robertson took down both streets and the entrance door. "Keeping wharf thugs and pirates at bay was a full-time job before steam ships came along. It required a lot of pub crawling, and consorting with the enemy to know what they were doing. The Highland Trade Company doesn't have any of those infernal things yet. My lady went with clippers instead when she took over the running. I suspect she will switch over when they can outrun a clipper. For now, the fleet still runs sails."

Jules could tell he would be sorry when that day came. It would be an end to an era for him. Jules had caught a vision in his mind of a time when sailed ships were pleasure crafts only. Steam and electromagnetic powered ships would rule the sea, running faster than any schooner or clipper ever imagined. He could almost see it in front of him. Jules turned it in his mind to get a good look. He needed his notebook to record this. Concentrating, Jules examined the engines, the propulsion… The engine design in his drawings lacked these details.

This is different from what I saw before.

A hand touched his arm.

The engine disappeared. Verne looked around. Someone was coming up the street. A small man walked down the street, looking both ways before ducking into the building.

"Time to go to work," Robertson said. He got up and led the way into the building. It was Rebecca's watcher. Verne stood watch in case another showed up.

"Knock on the wall loudly three times if anyone comes," Robertson said.

Verne waited; all was empty and quiet. After a few minutes, Robertson came back. He pushed Verne behind a curtain toward the back door and out into the alley.

Two men came down the stairs within seconds, leaving the building through the front door. They circled, waited only a moment to give them a lead.

Verne followed beside Robertson closely. He stopped at a corner, waved, and held his place. He pointed to a corner a block away. Jules didn't see anything at first, only a shadow. Then the shadow moved. The shadow was Sir James. He was in local garb, too, following the two men like a cat.

"They are going to the telegraph office," Robertson said. "We will get rid of these pests there."

The men entered the telegraph office, but did nothing at first. They just waited. Sir James entered the offices with them. It was next to a train depot. He settled himself on a bench. Robertson and Verne entered after ten minutes and did the same thing. Another twenty minutes went by before the second informant showed up. He went straight to the other two and spoke to them in broken French.

Jules heard one say, "She left the city, heading west into the desert," the newcomer said.

The man taking the reports stood and filled out a message form to give the telegraph officer. He handed it to the man at the clerk's desk and left the building, followed by the two watchers. Their quarry moved two steps into the street before being jumped by agents working with Rebecca.

The clerk at the telegraph desk handed the message form to Sir James. "Give this to Miss Fogg with my regards and wishes for a safe voyage."