Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

“He worked as a surveyor?”

“Yes, and he took over the field survey team when its commander fell ill. They did quite top-notch work, despite being threatened on several occasions by local Arab tribesmen. Much of the Palestine survey data was in fact still being utilized as recently as the nineteen sixties. But as for Kitchener, he was traveling throughout the Middle East at that point, so there’s no telling where he specifically may have acquired it. Unfortunately, he didn’t begin keeping a diary until many years later.”

“It must be very old if it is a papyrus document.” Summer neared the end of the diary and halted at a late May entry.

“Julie, this is it,” she gasped. “He writes, ‘Another dire warning received from the Archbishop. I daresay they seem to be stopping at nothing in obtaining their desired wants. I have little doubt they haven’t already slipped into Broome Park for a look around. My response will hopefully put them at bay. I told them that I am taking the Manifest to Russia and placing it on loan with the Orthodox Church in Petrograd for safekeeping until the war’s end. Imagine their chagrin if they knew I actually safeguarded it with Sally, under the watchful eyes of Emily, till my return.’ ”

“So he didn’t take it to Russia,” Julie said, her voice crackling with excitement.

“Apparently not. Listen to this. On June first, he writes, ‘My last entry for now. Prying eyes seem to be everywhere. I feel an uneasy dread about the trip at hand, but it is vital that the Russians stay with us and not negotiate a unilateral armistice with Germany. Will pass this diary to Corporal Wingate for safekeeping. H.H.K.’ ”

“I’ve read other accounts that he was uneasy when he departed and seemed to be dreading the trip,” said Julie. “He must have had a premonition.”

“Probably so or he wouldn’t have left the diary behind. But the bigger question is, who was Sally?”

“She must have been someone trustworthy, but I don’t believe I’ve ever run across anyone named Sally in my research on Kitchener.”

“Not an old secretary, or perhaps the wife of a fellow officer?” Summer asked.

Julie shook her head.

“How about a pet name for one of his aides?”

“No, I should think there would be references in his correspondence somewhere, but I don’t recall seeing it.”

“It doesn’t seem right that he would trust a casual acquaintance with the document. How about the other name, Emily?”

Julie thought for a moment as she waited to enter a traffic roundabout that led to downtown Canterbury.

“I can recall two Emilys, actually. Kitchener’s maternal grand-mother was named Emily, though she was long dead by 1916. Then there was his oldest brother, who had a granddaughter named Emily. I’ll have to check my genealogy records when we get to the hotel to see when she was born. Her father, Kitchener’s nephew, was named Hal. He used to visit Broome Park rather regularly.”

“So the younger Emily would actually be a cousin to Aldrich?” Summer asked.

“Yes, that would be correct. Perhaps we can talk to Aldrich about her in the morning.”

Julie had reached the city center and drove Summer slowly past Canterbury’s famed historic cathedral. A few blocks away, she turned into the Chaucer Hotel, one of the city’s modest old inns. After checking into neighboring rooms, the women met for dinner in the hotel restaurant. Summer devoured a large plate of fish and chips, not realizing how hungry the day’s excursion had made her. Julie nearly matched her appetite, pushing away a plate cleaned of pasta.

“If you’d like to walk the meal off, we can take a stroll over to the cathedral,” Julie offered.

“I appreciate the tour-guide offer,” Summer replied, “but, to be honest, I’d like to spend some more time analyzing Kitchener’s diary.”

Julie beamed at the reply. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve been anxious to study the writings since we checked in.”

“There’s a quiet lounge off the lobby. How about we order some tea and take another pass through the diary there? I’ll take notes while you read this time,” she added with a smile.

“That would be lovely,” Julie agreed. “I’ll go get the diary and a notebook from my room and meet you there.”

She climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered her room, then hesitated when she noticed her work papers strewn across the bed. The door suddenly slammed shut behind her as the lights were flicked off. A shadow approached as she started to scream, but a gloved hand quickly covered her mouth before her voice could resonate. Another arm slipped around her waist and pulled her tight against the assailant, who seemed to be wearing padded clothing. Then a deep voice grunted in her ear.

“Don’t make a sound or you’ll never live to see the dawn.”

28

SUMMER WAITED IN THE LOUNGE TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE phoning Julie’s room. Receiving no answer, she waited another five minutes, then went upstairs and knocked on her door. Her concern heightened when she noticed a “Do Not Disturb” sign dangling from the doorknob. She saw a night maid was working her way down the corridor turning down beds and convinced her to check Julie’s room. Opening the door and turning on the light, the maid gasped in shock.

Julie was seated on the floor with her arms behind her back and tied to the bed frame with a sheet. Another sheet was wrapped around her ankles, while a pillowcase covered her head. A desperate wiggling of her arms and legs revealed that she was very much alive.

Summer burst past the maid and ripped the pillowcase off Julie’s head. Julie’s wide eyes looked at Summer in relief as the American untied a knotted stocking that was wrapped around Julie’s head in a gag.