Chapter 29 #2
She didn’t wait for Victoria and Lucy to follow, knowing full well they’d be only steps behind her. Close to the main lobby of the clinic, she ran nearly headlong into Jane, who was bent before an Egyptian toddler clutching the hand of her mother.
Jane straightened when she saw Ginger. Her gaze traveled back to Victoria and Lucy, then she frowned back at Ginger. “Is something the matter?”
“I’m not certain.” Ginger gave her a tight-lipped smile. “But, thank you, as always, for your help. Hopefully I’ll see you again before we leave Cairo.”
They left the clinic, with Lucy leading the way out toward the street. “We can take my car. It’ll be the fastest way of getting there,” she said, a determined look in her face.
Ginger felt a tug of unexpected warmth toward her sister. The years had changed Lucy—even though she was still a socialite, she wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Or of doing what was necessary to help the people she loved.
The car smelled of sun-warmed leather and gasoline as they crawled into it, and its engine growled as it wove through Cairo’s congested streets.
Horns blared, barely cutting through the thickness of the silence between the three tense women.
Victoria sat stiff-backed beside Ginger, eyes fixed on the window, hands curled into fists in her lap.
Lucy sat in the front, silent, her posture brittle.
Ginger fixed her gaze on the street ahead of them, willing the driver to move faster through the traffic. What if Alex and Ivy had been seen? What if someone else had intercepted them?
She couldn’t afford to think like that. Chances were if Alex and Ivy had made it to the consulate, they were perfectly safe and being well cared for.
Victoria finally spoke, her voice barely audible. “They came to us. And we weren’t there.”
“They’re smart,” Ginger said. “They went to the consulate. That was the right move.”
“But—”
“But we’ll find them.” She reached for Victoria’s hand, silencing her worries with a squeeze. “If they’re not at the consulate, we’ll trace where they went next.”
Victoria glanced at her sharply. “But the consulate should have contacted Lucy by now. Do you think they’ve been taken?”
“I think,” Ginger said, “we should stop guessing and start asking questions.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, save for the rattle of traffic and the hiss of tires across stone and dusty roads.
The consulate loomed pale and rectangular on the corner of a wide boulevard.
Here in the heart of Anglo Cairo, the buildings and streets were European in architecture—built to be “Paris on the Nile” during the rule of the Khedive.
Since Egypt had gained independence, the British had stepped back in administration, but their presence was still quite clear here—a fact that rankled the nationalists in Egypt who wanted Egypt to stand with its own sovereign dignity rather than be the empire’s puppet.
Ginger knew Noah was among those who favored full Egyptian independence.
But, like her husband, she also understood the importance of the Suez Canal to her own countrymen and allies.
She might not feel as torn about the matter as Noah did—she was far more English than he was—but she did sympathize with both sides.
Inside the consulate, the women rushed into a small tiled waiting room where a well-dressed young man looked up from a counter. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the three women as they hurried inside, but he stood and gave a polite nod.
“May I help you?”
Ginger stepped forward, setting her hands on the counter. “We’re looking for two children. A boy and girl. Teenagers. English. They may have come here yesterday—possibly today. Alexander Benson and Ivy Fisher.”
The clerk opened the logbook on the counter and ran his finger down the columns. “I’m afraid I don’t see any record of them. No names fitting that description. No unaccompanied minors logged.”
Victoria leaned forward, trying to see the entries. “Could they have come through another entrance? Not been written down?”
The clerk hesitated. “It’s possible, I suppose. But unlikely. We log all visitors at the main gate, even unofficial ones.”
Lucy pressed her hand to her mouth. “Can we look through the logbook?”
The man’s mouth opened, as if to protest—but then he stopped, perhaps due to seeing the desperation on their faces. “Here you go,” he said, turning the book toward them.
Lucy and Victoria crowded around Ginger as they scanned the list of names.
Nothing.
Then Ginger’s eyes narrowed at the times listed of entry. Howard Shipley … 2:45 in the afternoon … Cassandra Laverton 7:22 in the evening …
Her brow furrowed and she gave a sharp glance at the clerk. “Is it normal for there to be such a long gap between visitors?”
He gave her a quizzical glance. “What’s that?”
“Here—” Ginger started to turn the book toward him and paused.
She gripped the edge of the counter, suddenly aware of the tension in the air. The clerk’s voice was a soft hum in the background as her heart picked up pace.
In the very bottommost corner, between the two pages of the book, a tiny scrap of paper. The remains of a torn piece.
She jerked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at the clerk.
“Who’s taken a page of the logbook?” Ginger demanded coldly, anger surging through her.
The clerk’s face reddened. “I-I—well, there’s no need for such an unruly display. And to suggest that someone has taken a page from the logbook is rather uncalled for.”
Ginger’s pulse slowed. This man wasn’t likely to be helpful—but she also doubted he knew anything.
And if a page was missing … it meant someone was hiding something. Someone with the authority and means to cover up the presence of two teenagers the day before.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice flat. “That’s all.” She glanced over at Victoria’s and Lucy’s curious expressions. “Let’s go.”
Thankfully, neither of them protested. They seemed to know, as well as Ginger, this was a dead end, after all.
The three women stepped outside into the blinding sun. For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Victoria exhaled shakily. “They didn’t make it.”
“Or they did and someone betrayed them here.” The nurse’s uniform felt suddenly hot, the veil sweltering.
Lucy turned to Ginger, eyes wide with fear. “What does that mean?”
Ginger’s mind spun. “It means someone has a much further reach than we imagined. That Alex and Ivy may have walked right into a trap once again.”
Victoria’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You think it was him?”
“I think if I were Prescott Federline and I knew two children might expose what I’d done … I wouldn’t let them walk into the British Consulate. Or I’d make certain I could stop them while there. Either way, he must have them again.”
The city pulsed around them—horns, wind, the faint echo of a call to prayer.
Victoria’s dark eyes flashed with agonized worry. “What do we do?”
Ginger swallowed hard, staring at her apron.
If they could find out where Prescott Federline was lodging, they might be able to turn the tables. Corner him. Make their own demands. “I think it’s time we stop waiting for him to make the next move. Go see what—or hopefully even who—he’s hiding here in Cairo.”