Chapter 21
D uring the ride back to the riad, Melody considered Lalla Rabia’s words. There was no doubt that the woman had been trying to set Melody onto a particular investigative path, and yet she had been so vague that it was unclear what path that was. If she had wanted to say something, why not just say it? There had been enough said explicitly, seemingly without fear of being overheard and understood. Why stop where she did? Was it possible that the Sultan’s wife didn’t know anything beyond the shadowy allusions she had made?
What Melody was sure about was that she needed to talk with Rat as soon as possible. Just as they were approaching the riad, another possibility occurred to her: perhaps she should include Fatima in that conversation. Melody was quite sure now that Fatima was as loyal to Alessandro as Rat believed, or at least she was reasonably sure. If that was the case, why not include the other woman? Melody went back and forth with herself about the pros and cons of such a decision. Finally, Melody concluded that she and Rat had neither the language skills nor the local knowledge to make as much of Lalla Rabia’s hint as they needed to. If only for practical reasons, she would share the information with Fatima as well as Rat.
Now that Melody had made that decision, she was faced with a more practical one: where to have this conference. It was one thing for Rat to slip into Melody’s room quietly. However, the addition of another person ran far too high a risk of drawing attention to their conversation. While Melody had, however, grudgingly, come to trust Fatima, there was no reason to extend this faith to the woman’s servants, Lahcen or Omar.
Thinking about the last time the three of them had managed to talk privately, Melody realised that another shopping trip might be the answer she needed. Melody guessed that she had been in the hammam for a couple of hours and that it was now mid-afternoon. If she was prepared to leave almost as soon as she returned to the riad, there should be enough time to make the trip back into the commercial hubbub of the Medina. Of course, that assumed that Fatima and Rat were both available and willing to make the trip. Most importantly, she had to make the request in such a way that it didn’t raise any suspicions.
As it happened, Melody had been considering returning to the weavers and commissioning some more clothes. She had greatly appreciated the ease of motion that Fatima’s split skirts had provided on their trip to Fes and wished to have one or two more made for her. If they were going to stay much longer in Fes, it might also be worth having more caftans made, including perhaps a slightly less formal one.
Arriving back at the riad, it seemed that Melody’s guess as to the time was correct, and she had long ago missed lunch. Though she had nibbled on some dates in the hammam, they had not been a sufficient snack to alleviate the hunger of missing a meal. Her growling stomach aside, Melody concluded it would be a little odd if she were to return to the riad and almost immediately suggest another outing. Instead, she asked one of the servants if it would be possible to bring some food to her room.
Luckily, it seemed that none of the household beyond the servants were around the courtyard, and she was able to slip unnoticed up to the first floor and Rat’s room. Crossing her fingers that she’d find her brother there, Melody knocked lightly on the door.
Rat had been sitting in the armchair in his room reading one of Lahcen’s books. It seemed that their host had a wide-ranging and eclectic library and that at least some of his books were in English. Determined to distract his thoughts from Melody’s visit to the harem, Rat had chosen one of these books and was now quite engrossed. So engrossed that he almost missed the light tap on his door.
As soon as Rat opened the door, Melody pushed her way inside without saying a word.
“What’s the matter?” Rat asked in a worried tone. “Was there a problem during your visit?”
“Not a problem, though something we need to discuss. But not here. I would like to include Fatima in the conversation, and I can see no way that we can do that discreetly in the riad. I would like to revisit the weavers. What did Fatima call it? The Hanout An-Nassaj? That seemed to be a safe place to talk; anyway, I want to order more clothes.”
Intrigued by his sister’s plan for a covert operation, Rat could see one flaw in her plan, “How will you explain my accompanying you, Melly?”
“You will say that you wish to get another djellaba made for the trip back to Casablanca. You did find it a comfortable travel garment, did you not?”
Rat acknowledged the truth of her statement. “I believe that Fatima left some time ago to pay some social calls. She had said she would be back about now. Why do we not wait downstairs in the courtyard? We can ask for some mint tea and wait to catch her as she returns.” This seemed like a sensible plan.
Luckily, they had only just started on their first glass of tea when Fatima swept into the courtyard. “How was your morning with Lalla Rabia?” she asked with a hint of resentment. It appeared she had been informed as to Melody’s invitation.
“I got to experience the harem’s hammam,” Melody answered. Fatima raised her eyebrows in reply by which Melody inferred that she should be honoured at such treatment.
“In fact,” Melody said quite loudly in case anyone was nearby, “what the visit made me realise was that I may need more clothes while we are in Fes. I was thinking of returning to the Hanout An-Nassaj.” Showing Fatima the item of clothing she was holding, she explained, “I am going to bring one of your split skirts and ask them to copy it. I saw some lovely fabric there the other day that I think would work well. Matthew is going to join us. He would like another djellaba. We were wondering if you would join us.”
As she said this last line, Melody tried to communicate through her facial expressions that Fatima should say yes because there was more to this trip than merely shopping. Whether or not Fatima gleaned that, she agreed. They assumed that she would want to freshen up and rest before venturing out again, but it seemed that indefatigable was yet another word that could be applied to the woman.
It was unclear where Omar and Lahcen were, so Rat left word with a servant before they headed back out and mounted the mules. The same servant who had led them the other day led them again, and it wasn’t long before they were deep in the souq.
After their extensive purchases the previous day, the shopkeeper was thrilled to see them back again so soon. He spoke rapid Arabic to Fatima, who explained what they were looking for. Suspecting that Rat and Melody had an ulterior reason for suggesting the outing, Fatima suggested that the shopkeeper bring them a range of fabrics to choose from so that he would be gone for some time. While she didn’t believe he spoke English, it was prudent to be careful.
Finally, the shopkeeper left, eager to pull his most expensive fabrics for the Barani. The man had no love for foreigners, hence his description of them as Barani, outsiders, to his helper in the back. Despite this sentiment, he was a savvy businessman and knew a good opportunity when he saw it.
With the man safely out of the way, Fatima demanded, “Well? I assume that you dragged me back out because you wished to discuss something. So, what is it?”
Melody tried her best to ignore the irritation in the other woman’s voice and, as quickly as she could, relayed the key parts of her conversation with Lalla Rabia.
“So, she didn’t say what this supposed thing that proves the French coerced the Sultan is? Is she even sure that such a thing exists?”
With a resigned shake of her head, Melody admitted that Fatima’s concerns were valid. The other woman continued, “And even if it does, my only concern is freeing Sandro and it is unclear to me, very unclear, how this supposed clue from Lalla Rabia helps us with that end.”
Melody had been thinking about this very question. Now keeping her voice low, just in case anyone could understand, she explained, ticking points off her fingers, “We have a few strands of this mystery which I believe are more interwoven than we have previously thought. Firstly, Lalla Rabia accused her husband of being entirely subservient to the French. We know that Brett Rothnie had been acting quite erratically recently, and we believe that he discovered something, though we’re unsure what. He then disappeared sometime in early to mid-May.”
Turning to Rat, Melody asked, “When did Alessandro tell you that you had to leave for Morocco?”
Rat considered the question. “I believe that it was May 12th. Wait, no, it was May 11th. We left on the 12th, which I believe was a Friday.”
“I remember that Mrs Rothnie said that her husband disappeared on a Tuesday in early May. I am assuming that it was Sir Reginald who sounded the alarm that Brett was missing, but do you know how he discovered this?”
Rat shook his head at his sister’s very valid question. He should have asked Alessandro this, and now he was frustrated with himself for omitting to inquire about such a salient point of information.
Melody was as frustrated as Rat about this missing information. Nevertheless, she knew the importance of having a cohesive theory that one could adapt to new information as it presented itself. For now, she was going to hypothesise that Brett Rothnie disappeared on May 10 th . She was also going to assume that Sir Reginald had been expecting some kind of communique from Brett Rothnie and had become worried when it never arrived.
As she thought through this timeline, Melody remembered one thing. “Consul MacLeod told us that he hadn’t known that Mr Rothnie was in the employ of the British Government. So, we know Sir Reginald didn’t receive news of the disappearance through him.”
“Yes, you’re right, Melly,” Rat confirmed. “I’m not sure what that tells us, but it is a piece of evidence at least.”
Returning to counting off her fingers, Melody continued, “Brett Rothnie had been acting quite erratically, according to his wife, and had become very secretive before he disappeared. Do we think he had some warning that he might be in danger?”
Again, Rat thought it was a valid question but one to which he had no answer.
“Who is Brett Rothnie?” Fatima asked, reminding Rat and Melody that they hadn’t brought her up-to-date on their morning excursions. They quickly filled her in on their trip to Consul MacLeod’s home and his revelation of the missing operative’s name and address. They then told her about their conversation with Olympia Rothnie.
“So, you think he discovered something, but you didn’t find it in his study?” Fatima asked, scepticism writ large on her face. “What is your hypothesis for this? That he had it on him when he disappeared?”
Irritated but determined to ignore Fatima’s sarcastic tone, Melody replied, “Perhaps. Or perhaps it was in the study, and we didn’t find it. What we do know is that Lalla Rabia implied that there is something, perhaps a document, that would reflect badly on the French. Is it possible that this is what Brett found? She certainly believes that this evidence is somehow tied up with her father, the then Grand Vizier, being removed from his post. Something that she believes happened at the behest of the French Government.”
“And I ask you again: what does this have to do with securing Alessandro’s release?” Fatima asked impatiently. So impatiently that Melody second-guessed her decision to bring the woman into their confidence. However, she also didn’t have a good answer. Every instinct she had told Melody that this was one investigation and that the reason Alessandro had been followed and an attempt had been made on his life was that he had come to Morocco to investigate Brett’s disappearance. Was his arrest yet another attempt to interfere with Alessandro’s mission?”
Deciding to articulate this theory out loud, Melody said in a hesitant voice, “What if this is all about whatever Brett found? Perhaps the French Government killed Brett, and then, when Alessandro was sent to investigate, they used this rogue operative to identify and then attack him. While the attack failed, Alessandro had now been identified by the French as a British Intelligence operative, and so this rogue operative was then unnecessary and was himself killed.”
Rat considered Melody’s words. “It isn’t a terrible idea,” he admitted. “Perhaps a decision was made that it might be more useful to have Alessandro in custody than to make another attempt on his life. And so, the rogue operative’s last unknowing job for his employer was to be killed in a public enough place that Alessandro could be immediately discovered leaning over the body.”
“Ha!” Fatima’s face said all they needed to know about the credence she gave their theory. “This convoluted story is why you dragged me out this afternoon? And even if you are correct in places, what would you have us do?”
The dismissiveness of Fatima’s tone was annoying, but she had a point: what did Melody think they should do next? Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. “We have that dinner invitation for this evening. We may be able to learn more there.”
Fatima raised her eyebrows, “What dinner invitation?” Melody explained that Consul MacLeod and invited her and Rat to meet the new French official in charge of Fes. “Then I will join you,” Fatima declared. Melody’s very British horror at making a social faux pas by bringing along an unexpected guest must have shown on her face, for Fatima added, “I am a French citizen. And anyway, I have never met a man who was not charmed to have me grace his table.”
Well, that seemed to be that, then. Melody had to admit that it might be helpful to have the French-speaking Fatima with them.
Rat glanced at his pocket watch. “If we are going to return to the riad, bathe, dress and return to the consul’s home, we ought to leave soon.”
Her brother’s words brought a new difficulty to light: what were they to wear? None of them had any Western clothes that were appropriate for a formal evening gathering. As speedy as the dressmaker had been with their Moroccan garb, it was doubtful that they could get evening wear made up within the new few hours. Melody voiced this concern.
“We will wear caftans, and Matthew will wear his djellaba,” Fatima said dismissively as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Is that appropriate?” Rat asked in horror. It was one thing to wear native garb to visit the Sultan, but he couldn’t imagine wearing it amongst fellow Europeans.
“Pfff,” Fatima exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t it be? And anyway, do we have a choice?” Melody and Rat had to acknowledge that they really didn’t. Twenty minutes later, laden down with more packages and even more outfits ordered, including the split skirts, they left for their return trip through the souq.