Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Jack
The station smelled like old stone and soot, cinders drifting in on the inky black smoke from the train Jack should have boarded ten minutes ago.
Jack stood near the edge of the platform, shoulder brushing the sun-warmed iron pillar behind him.
A distant train hissed, brakes squealing, the sound sharp enough to grate his already frayed nerves.
He checked his watch.
Ruby was late.
He hadn’t been entirely idiotic about the whole plan—she wouldn’t get the first weekly payment until she met him at the train station with the forged travel documents she had promised she could get for him.
Jack hadn’t asked about her contacts—and the truth was, he didn’t want to know.
Working with the scum of Cairo’s criminal underground had never been his preference, even if Noah had resorted to that option frequently during the war.
But Noah had always been willing to get his hands dirty in a way that Jack hadn’t wanted to.
Noah blended with the criminals and the people around him in a way that even impressed Jack.
Like Noah, though, he was able to wear the loose-fitting galabeyah Egyptian tunic well. Together with a headscarf and the scruff he’d been growing the last few days, it did wonders for altering his appearance.
Funny how slipping undercover like this made him feel as though the world was at war once again. His need to be always on alert had never really faded, but since leaving the Kharga he couldn’t help but notice everything he’d turned a blind eye to in the fifteen years following the armistice.
Whispers on the streets, men and women who seemed to be sharing more than pleasant conversation. Something stirred restlessly.
Even here at the train station, Jack had spotted more than one character that made his shoulders tense.
He kept a close watch on his surroundings, half expecting Prescott’s men to be here, following him despite his best efforts.
Prescott’s silence in the last few weeks was unnerving, but Jack didn’t doubt for a second that it was intentional too.
He scanned the crowd on the platform again. Around him, the train workers weaved through clusters of travelers, the wheels of the trolleys clattering over the ground. Jack shifted his weight, taking in every face closest. A woman in a white hat approached. Not her.
He wiped his hand across his jaw, trying to loosen the clench of his muscles. If Ruby didn’t show, he’d go without her. He’d figure it out, the way he always had. Even if he had to ride across the border of Iraq on camelback through the desert.
Inconvenient, yes. And he’d lose valuable time. God knew he’d already lost enough.
Then he saw her—plain brown travel dress, blond hair hidden under a drab scarf, eyes sharp even at a distance. And at her side … Theo.
His stomach sank.
Ruby’s brother could pass for her twin. He wore a trench coat, despite the warm weather, and a flat-topped hat with a wide brim covering his curly blond hair.
A flash of irritation went through Jack and he pushed himself off the pillar, moving toward them. The whistle blew again. “We need to get on the train,” he said as a greeting. He didn’t bother looking at Theo. “What’s he doing here?”
Ruby crossed her arms. “He’s coming with us. I’m not comfortable traveling alone with a man I don’t know.”
“I don’t have a ticket for him,” Jack snapped. “And this isn’t what we agreed to.”
The last thing he needed was another variable he couldn’t control.
And the less he could control.
“We bought him a ticket to Kantara at the office. You can reimburse me.” Ruby shrugged, chin lifted in that defiant way he was beginning to understand came with her stubborn spirit. “Either he goes or I stay. Your choice.”
Steam hissed down the length of the train. Jack glanced at the second-class car, then at Theo, who met his stare without blinking. Dammit.
Fine. He could manage this.
“Get your things,” Jack said, his voice hard and flat. “We’re boarding now.” He turned toward the train, not bothering to wait for them.
The crowd around them had swollen as they moved down the platform.
Jack stayed a step ahead, eyes sweeping the crowd for any hint of Prescott’s men.
A flick of his gaze back revealed Ruby’s exasperated glare on him as she bumped through passersby, struggling to keep up. Jack smirked as he looked away.
Let her be angry—she’d forced his hand, and now Theo was dead weight he’d have to drag along.
Up close, the railcar revealed sun-faded paint flaking at the seams. Jack caught the conductor’s eye and handed over their tickets. The man barely glanced at them before punching them, then waved them toward the carriage door.
Inside, the air smelled of old leather and stale sweat. Jack squeezed down the narrow aisle, the wooden floor shuddering under his boots. Compartments were packed—families hauling children and crates, young couples, an old woman fanning herself with a magazine.
He ducked into their assigned compartment, dropping his battered satchel onto the worn seat. Ruby and Theo followed, the tension between them crowding the small space as Theo closed the door to the private space. Ruby slipped off her scarf, hands trembling.
Theo set a protective hand onto her shoulder, squeezing gently, and Ruby gave him a grateful look. He narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Next time,” Theo growled, “plan for an extra ticket. She’s not your woman to boss around—money or not.”
Jack let out a short, humorless laugh. “This should be fun. How about next time you stay out of my way? I haven’t forgotten Mena House, Theo. And I might be willing to work with you and your sister temporarily, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven what happened there.”
Outside, a final whistle split the air. The train lurched forward, wheels clanging over the track. Jack leaned back against the cracked leather seat, eyes on the corridor beyond the glass.
Jack scanned the crowd again, his heart squeezing when he caught sight of a man in a dark suit leaning against a wall, eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses.
He seemed to be staring right at Jack’s window.
Jack looked away as the train pulled away.
One of Prescott’s men?
Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility. Prescott’s silence was always the worst kind of noise.
Tense silence filled the air as they left Cairo. The trip to Kantara offered plenty of time for them to discuss the finer details of the plan, and right now he wasn’t in the mood.
He’d hoped to send a telegram to Fahad al-Najjar, his old friend from Jerusalem and someone he could be certain he could trust. But after Noah’s cryptic telegram in Cairo, contacting Fahad was too risky.
Telegrams were notoriously easy to spy on, and Fahad was a known contact of Jack’s.
If Jack showed up to Fahad’s house in Jerusalem, he may as well throw up a smoke signal to Prescott, announcing his location.
So, instead, he was stuck relying on the transports Ruby had arranged through her fixers in Cairo. And once he got to Baghdad, the real work began—finding a trace of Gretchen Herbert.
Good God, Kit, why’d you have to send me on a wild goose chase?
If only she’d reached out to him. His chest went impossibly tight as he remembered her. It’d been so long since he’d seen her that his memories of her had faded into fragments he rarely allowed himself to revisit.
Prescott had known what he was doing by telling Jack about her.
Alice was entirely too painful for Jack to think of.
He’d loved his little sister and done everything to protect her, but ultimately he’d been forced to accept that she’d grown up and chosen a life that he could never reconcile himself with.
But Kit?
Kit had hated Blackwell as much as he had. Had wanted nothing to do with her father’s organization.
If this Gretchen Herbert was his Kit—and he was convinced she was—then she’d clearly wanted to get his attention. Why write under that name otherwise? She had to remember she’d told him about the alias.
Maybe she’d been afraid of what he’d think if she sent a more direct message. If she was really working for Blackwell now, then she’d turned her back on everything that she and Jack had believed in when they were younger.
But then why use the alias at all? What message was she trying to send him?
As the familiar scenes of Cairo gave way to a blur of desert, Jack pushed the troubling thoughts away and leaned down toward his satchel.
He’d gone through the Guardian papers he’d taken from Penmore while traveling from France to Cairo, clipping any article he’d found written by Gretchen Herbert and pasting them into a notebook.
Then, in Cairo, he’d made an even more startling discovery—articles by Gretchen Herbert in The Egyptian Gazette. He’d dug as far back as he could, visiting the Khedival library, and found several articles, starting the previous December. Nothing before then.
Something must have forced her hand around then. Made her desperate enough to reach across the vastness that separated them.
The feeling of someone watching him closely broke Jack’s concentration. He frowned, his gaze flicking up to see Theo studying him. Jack frowned and shut the notebook. “What?” he asked in a flat tone.
Theo shrugged. “Just trying to get a better sense of who you are, Jack Darby. You’ve got money but apparently no friends. You act respectably enough, but then you blackmail an innocent woman into working for you—and want to deny her the comfort of her own brother’s presence.”
“Innocent?” Jack raised an eyebrow at Ruby, who rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat.
“Knock it off, Theo. He’s paying us well enough. We don’t have to be friends; we can all just sit here quietly and get this trip over with, and then Jack will let us return to our lives, right?” Ruby gave him a pleading look as though asking him to play nicely.