who it is.”
“You’re not going to do anything about it?”
“Of course I am. I’m going to use it to our advantage.”
Lily turned over the ticket in her hand, wondering what she was supposed to do in Gibraltar. “About Gibraltar…” She looked up to ask Drury. But he had already left and closed the door behind him.
He wouldn’t have answered anyway.
***
By four o’clock, Drury had gathered the remaining scattered pages of the report together, arranged them in sections with a paper clip, and typed out a table of contents.
“We’re done,” Drury said. “That’s it.”
He carried the draft into Boyle’s office. Lily followed.
Drury flung the manuscript on Boyle’s desk with a flourish. “Our pamphlet. A masterly work, if I say so myself. With this pamphlet in hand, victory is guaranteed.”
Boyle put on his glasses, held the battered manuscript at arm’s-length, and looked skeptical.
“Your office can do the final typing,” Drury told him.
Boyle placed his glasses carefully on his desk and turned to Lily. “Thank you, Miss Sampson.”
“About Korian—” Drury said.
“Glad you brought it up. What about Korian? I don’t take kindly to fisticuffs against people on my staff.”
“It’s the bulletin he’s supposed to be putting out.” Drury slammed his hand on Boyle’s desk and Boyle sat upright, eyes blinking. “He only gets about twenty copies printed up, doesn’t distribute them to anyone.”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Boyle waved away Drury’s hand and scooted his chair toward the filing cabinet. “I have the invoices. He gets five hundred copies of each issue. We also pay for delivery to all the shopkeepers in Tangier.”
“It’s a scam.”
“You have evidence?”
“Not yet.” Drury drew a finger across his upper lip and clicked his tongue. “But I’ll get it.”
“So you decked him. Just like that. Without proof, just on a gut feeling?”
Drury nodded. “I had my reasons.”
“This is a venue of the State Department. We have other ways of handling things here. For now, I’ll thank you to get out of my office.”
Back at his desk, Boyle picked up a pen and began writing furiously on the pad in front of him. Lily noticed he was doodling.
“Keep a close eye on Korian while we’re gone,” Drury said to him. “We’re taking the next few days off.”
He left Boyle’s office, pulling Lily along behind.
Chapter Fifteen
“You don’t trust Faridah. You don’t trust me, your friend,” Zaid was saying to MacAlistair. “But you trust a Jewish prostitute.”
Suzannah was setting the table in the dining room. Adam sat in the garden with a man Lily didn’t know.
“I trust you, Zaid. I trust you with my life,” MacAlistair said.
“Well then—”
“It’s for your own safety, Zaid. Too dangerous for you to know.”
Suzannah finished at the table and left in the direction of the kitchen.
“And Suzannah? You trust her?”
“I would trust almost anyone in the mellah.” MacAlistair strode toward the courtyard.
“Don’t be too sure,” Zaid said.
“Maybe he’s right,” Lily said.
Zaid gave her a grateful look. “Besides, Suzannah probably can’t cook.”
MacAlistair turned back and took Zaid’s arm. “Of course she can. Bouillabaisse tonight. Tariq brought fresh fish when he came into town today. Couscous tomorrow.” He gestured in the direction of Adam and the stranger on the patio. “Shall we wait in the garden?”
The stranger stood up with an expectant smile.
“My nephew,” MacAlistair said. “Barrett Russell.”
He had a trim British moustache and dark hazel eyes.
“This is Lily,” MacAlistair said. “I told you about her.”
The Englishman reached for Lily’s hand and clasped it in both of his. “My friends call me Russ.”
“Russ works in the governor’s office in Gibraltar,” MacAlistair said. “Comes over from time to time on government business.”
“Been there since ’39,” Drury said. “Knows
“You’re not going to do anything about it?”
“Of course I am. I’m going to use it to our advantage.”
Lily turned over the ticket in her hand, wondering what she was supposed to do in Gibraltar. “About Gibraltar…” She looked up to ask Drury. But he had already left and closed the door behind him.
He wouldn’t have answered anyway.
***
By four o’clock, Drury had gathered the remaining scattered pages of the report together, arranged them in sections with a paper clip, and typed out a table of contents.
“We’re done,” Drury said. “That’s it.”
He carried the draft into Boyle’s office. Lily followed.
Drury flung the manuscript on Boyle’s desk with a flourish. “Our pamphlet. A masterly work, if I say so myself. With this pamphlet in hand, victory is guaranteed.”
Boyle put on his glasses, held the battered manuscript at arm’s-length, and looked skeptical.
“Your office can do the final typing,” Drury told him.
Boyle placed his glasses carefully on his desk and turned to Lily. “Thank you, Miss Sampson.”
“About Korian—” Drury said.
“Glad you brought it up. What about Korian? I don’t take kindly to fisticuffs against people on my staff.”
“It’s the bulletin he’s supposed to be putting out.” Drury slammed his hand on Boyle’s desk and Boyle sat upright, eyes blinking. “He only gets about twenty copies printed up, doesn’t distribute them to anyone.”
“Where’d you get that idea?” Boyle waved away Drury’s hand and scooted his chair toward the filing cabinet. “I have the invoices. He gets five hundred copies of each issue. We also pay for delivery to all the shopkeepers in Tangier.”
“It’s a scam.”
“You have evidence?”
“Not yet.” Drury drew a finger across his upper lip and clicked his tongue. “But I’ll get it.”
“So you decked him. Just like that. Without proof, just on a gut feeling?”
Drury nodded. “I had my reasons.”
“This is a venue of the State Department. We have other ways of handling things here. For now, I’ll thank you to get out of my office.”
Back at his desk, Boyle picked up a pen and began writing furiously on the pad in front of him. Lily noticed he was doodling.
“Keep a close eye on Korian while we’re gone,” Drury said to him. “We’re taking the next few days off.”
He left Boyle’s office, pulling Lily along behind.
Chapter Fifteen
“You don’t trust Faridah. You don’t trust me, your friend,” Zaid was saying to MacAlistair. “But you trust a Jewish prostitute.”
Suzannah was setting the table in the dining room. Adam sat in the garden with a man Lily didn’t know.
“I trust you, Zaid. I trust you with my life,” MacAlistair said.
“Well then—”
“It’s for your own safety, Zaid. Too dangerous for you to know.”
Suzannah finished at the table and left in the direction of the kitchen.
“And Suzannah? You trust her?”
“I would trust almost anyone in the mellah.” MacAlistair strode toward the courtyard.
“Don’t be too sure,” Zaid said.
“Maybe he’s right,” Lily said.
Zaid gave her a grateful look. “Besides, Suzannah probably can’t cook.”
MacAlistair turned back and took Zaid’s arm. “Of course she can. Bouillabaisse tonight. Tariq brought fresh fish when he came into town today. Couscous tomorrow.” He gestured in the direction of Adam and the stranger on the patio. “Shall we wait in the garden?”
The stranger stood up with an expectant smile.
“My nephew,” MacAlistair said. “Barrett Russell.”
He had a trim British moustache and dark hazel eyes.
“This is Lily,” MacAlistair said. “I told you about her.”
The Englishman reached for Lily’s hand and clasped it in both of his. “My friends call me Russ.”
“Russ works in the governor’s office in Gibraltar,” MacAlistair said. “Comes over from time to time on government business.”
“Been there since ’39,” Drury said. “Knows
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