017. More Questions

Previously, on Jungle Fever:

Our heroine, Caroline, is staying with her friend Hattie in London. At an auction at Southerby's, Hattie makes a winning bid on a clay sphinx, much to the ire of a man named Spalding. Spalding's goons kidnap Hattie and Caroline pursues them to London Docks and aboard a ship called the Eastern Promise. After stowing away onboard, Caroline runs into an old friend: Rex Rexton who is covertly investigating Spalding. She also learns the Eastern Promise's destination: Egypt. Before she can investigate any further, however, Caroline is captured...and brought before Spalding.

Caroline struggled against Jacobs' grip. He held her tightly by the upper arms, restricting her movement. Menacingly, she eyeballed Graham Spalding.

'Why did you kidnap Hattie?!' she demanded from him.

Spalding shrugged, 'An unfortunate turn of events, yes, but I assure you it was absolutely necessary...'

'Necessary, why?'

'Otherwise, she would have gone to the police.' the still-as-yet-unrecognised man said with a cheeky grin.

Caroline recognised the voice: it was Sykes. Both Spalding and Jacobs chuckled at the remark, though Caroline remained resolute.

'What's so special about that sphinx anyway?' she said.

'It has a certain...,' Spalding moved his hands about, as if pretending to juggle, 'let's say: "sentimental value".'

'Is it worth so much to kill for?'

Spalding seemed genuinely shocked.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but you've lost me...'

'The port official in London; the one you had Mr. Jacobs here kill!'

'Jacobs, is this true?' Spalding said in a soft, quavering tone of voice.

'It's nonsense, that is,' Jacobs balked, 'I paid him off just as you said; I took care of him.'

'Have you any evidence of this supposed "murder", Mrs. Carol?'

'Well...no, I...'

Spalding waved his hand dismissively, 'I've had enough of this. Jacobs, take her down to the cargo hold and have her tied up with her friend. Then have Luciani come down and sedate her like the other one.'

Jacobs nodded and forced Caroline back out into the corridor. As he marched her down towards the stairs, she overhead Spalding say:

'Inform our employer we've had a slight hitch in our plan, but that it's been dealt with.'

Caroline wondered who this "employer" might be as Jacobs hustled her down the narrow stairwell to the deck below. Caroline once again found herself in the forward cargo hold where Hattie was being held. Jacobs bound Caroline's wrists together behind her back and unceremoniously dropped her on the floor beside Hattie. A man with greasy hair and a white steward's uniform appeared at the entrance with a brown glass bottle and a piece of cloth. The greasy haired steward opened the bottle, let a few droplets of liquid fall from its mouth onto the cloth and replaced the cap. He handed the cloth to Jacobs.

'Sleepy time now, Miss.' Jacobs said, and jammed the cloth in Caroline's mouth.

He pinched her nose shut with his thumb and forefinger, forcing Caroline to inhale the fumes from the cloth.

'Ether.' she thought to herself, before losing focus and passing out.

Time passed in bursts and jolts for Caroline. Hours, days, weeks – nothing was one hundred percent clear to her. The only constant was her visits from the steward, Luciani, who fed and watered her. In spite of her mind being impaired by the ether, Caroline was able to deduce that she would have to be drugged every ten hours or so, and from that could keep track of the days by counting Luciani's visits. Seventeen days passed.

Caroline awoke slowly. She was lying on her side, and her whole body ached. There was a strange smell – or rather, several strange smells – wood, salt, dust and sweat. She sat up, and cringed in pain. Seventeen days of inactivity had taken its toll on Caroline's muscles; she was stiff and fatigued. She took in her surroundings. She was in a large wooden box – probably a railway car or the interior of an old truck. Sunlight streamed faintly inwards from gaps in the wooden boards. Caroline noticed what looked like a pile of old rags in one corner of the box. The pile of rags was Hattie. Caroline scurried across the floor to her side.

'Hattie? Hattie! Can you hear me, are you alright?'

She was out cold. There was a loud creak from the box, and one end became filled with light. Caroline readied herself for a fight. A figure blocked out some of the light and slowly resolved itself into a brown skinned boy. It was Mohsen.

'Miss Carol, you right?' he asked.

'Mohsen! What are you doing here?' Caroline snapped, out of surprise and relief. He helped her down from the back of - which she now saw - was a pre-war Ford truck.

'Mister Rexton make me stay, see that you right.'

'Where is he now?'

'He go up river. He say, Miss Carol no follow.'

'Like Hell I won't!'

'Why you that way, Miss Carol?'

'The Yank in me, I guess. Where are we?'

'Alexandria. British Consulate.'

'British Consulate?'

A large white building with a "Imperialist 1800s" motif loomed in front of them. The truck was parked directly outside.

'Mister Rexton say you and other girl can get ride back to London here.' Mohsen said.

'I'm sure he did. Where are you meeting up with Rexton?'

'I not say.'

'You will say.'

'He say, I not say.'

'I say you will say.'

Mohsen groaned and said something in Arabic. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a map. He turned it around so Caroline could see what he was pointing at.

'Here, Alexandria. Here, river. Mister Rexton leave motor boat for me, here. I follow and catch him.'

'And Spalding, no doubt.'

'Yes, Mister Rexton with them. Under blanket.'

'Undercover.' Caroline corrected him.

'That too.' Mohsen grinned.

So Spalding and his posse were heading down the Nile, and Rex Rexton with them. It had to have something to do with that clay sphinx, Caroline knew it. If only she had more information, she could sort this whole mess out.

'What you do now, Miss Carol?' Mohsen asked.

'Let's get Hattie inside the Consulate; I don't like the thought of leaving her in the truck.'

'And then', Caroline thought to herself, 'I'm going after Spalding. That man has a lot to answer for.'

TO BE CONTINUED...