O Jerusalem - Laurie R. King [35]
“Who the wolves are I do not know, but yes, I believe I hear them. And I am quite certain, when we come close enough to hear their voices, we will find they speak Turkish.” Joshua was talking to Mahmoud now, and Mahmoud was listening attentively. “Not all of our enemy was taken, and by no means have all surrendered. Here as in Germany there are discontented young officers who blame their old régime for the losses during the war. They will be infuriated by the demands made by the Allies. The cost of their losing will be high indeed. A mistake, but what victor listens to counsel of generosity and reason when vengeance is at hand? We are looking here at the seeds of another war, with political ferment about to foam up around us and engulf us. Allenby believes we can salvage brotherhood; I will be satisfied if we can merely keep the upper hand. We will need it, soon enough.”
Holmes cut impatiently into this speech. “What do you wish us to do about the situation?”
“Do? I don’t want you to do anything.” The little round soldier was gone; in his place bristled a condescending and irritated military officer, putting a problematic subordinate in his place. “If we were in London, Mr Holmes, I might permit you to act, might even permit you to lead. However, may I remind you that this is not your home ground? Ali and Mahmoud are my men. Valuable men. I have few enough of those at the best of times, but in the last three months, between demobilisation and accidents, I am down to about half strength.”
“What accidents?” Holmes demanded sharply.
“Accidents. My men are tired, and peace has made them careless.” Holmes met his eyes, refusing to be dismissed. “One in a motorcar crash, the other went off a cliff.”
“And Yitzak with a knife, and Mikhail with a bullet. Do you normally lose a man on the average of one every three weeks?”
Joshua sat placidly, refusing to be drawn into an answer, but even I doubted that this was a standard rate of attrition. I also was beginning to think that Mycroft, whose job was accounting for odd fluctuations in the empire’s resources, had not been unjustified in offering us this little problem.
One thing I did not understand was why this rotund English spymaster was insisting that the deaths of his men were more irritating than worrying. Perhaps the bureaucratic passion for keeping face extended here as well. His next words seemed to confirm this.
“None of this is your concern, Mr Holmes. You are here—at my sufferance, understand, not due to any authority you might imagine your brother holds—because I want my two men to have someone watching their backs. Let me be brutally frank, Mr Holmes: you and Miss Russell are expendable. I have used better men than you, and I have even used men equally renowned. Were you to vanish, there is nothing to point to me. You are to regard yourself as a back-up, Mr Holmes. You and Miss Russell have proven that you can pass for Bedu under a cursory glance, and Ali and Mahmoud by themselves are vulnerable. Four men—if you will permit me, Miss Russell?— are safer from casual attack than two. And the two of you might be of some use in running messages or holding a rifle. Frankly, despite your brother’s influence, I should not send you if I had any others available. However, I haven’t anyone else, so I will use you, and trust you far enough to assume that you won’t get my men killed. More tea?” He held out the pot, as if his harsh insults had never been spoken. I retained my cup, but Holmes, looking more amused than angry, handed his over to be refilled.
“Tell me more about those insubstantial rumours,” Holmes suggested, as if he had heard nothing of what the man said. Joshua studied him, but was apparently satisfied, because after the tea had been poured and milked, he put away the pot and drew a map from another breast pocket. When the camp chair had been moved back he spread the map on the floor and sat on his heels like an Arab beside it, agile despite his bulk. Ali emerged from the shadows and stood behind us, looking on.
The map