‘No such luck! No, George found a little job for me to do up on the north-west frontier and what I’m doing here is escaping back to reality. Like you, Maisie, I’d had enough. Too claustrophobic. Too foreign. And I got fed up with being used.’

‘George, you mean? Nothing personal in that, you know, the old bugger manipulates everybody.’

‘Well, it’s not what I’m used to. Charlie Carter once called me Sir George’s pet ferret. He wasn’t so far wrong. And that might not have been so bad… I can look after myself down rat holes. But it’s bloody annoying to surface with a dead rat in your mouth to be told by the boss that what you’ve caught is a mouse, all’s well and thank you very much.’

‘Not sure who your rat is. Rheza Khan? I don’t know all the details but I had heard that you – and Edgar Troop of all people – had saved the whole of northern India from a native uprising, a Russian invasion and God knows what else.’

‘That’s George’s official line and in part true. That’s why he’s so convincing. An uprising – yes, it could have happened – they’d certainly equipped themselves. George had been keeping an eye on them all along. He seized on this chance of coming down on Rheza’s father like a ton of bricks. That squadron of Slater’s was only a beginning. There was a Gurkha battalion ready to back up. Massive confiscation of arms and a finger wagged at the rajah. “See what your son has been up to – gun-running and two murders on his slate!” Rheza’s father took the hint. Enough menace to keep him quiet and north of the Zalori for a few years I should think. George has played down Alice Sharpe’s role in all this.’

‘Alice Sharpe’s role? I thought that girl must be at the bottom of things! And was it true, then, that story about the shikari trip that went wrong? How did she die?’

‘Well, you can’t just allow the owner of the country’s biggest trading empire to disappear in the night without trace. Too many questions. Too many unresolved problems and that’s just what George won’t tolerate. The Jardine version which is now largely put about, again, is convincing because most of it is true and verifiable. Alice, who as everyone knows is a superb rifle shot and had rather taken under her wing the visiting police commander from Scotland Yard, decided to introduce him to the delights of a shikari party in the Simla Hills. Of course she hired Edgar Troop to be their guide. Who else? There’d been talk of a man-eater raiding in one or two of the remote villages up towards Joginder Nagar and they thought they’d try their luck. Unfortunately Alice wandered off from the camp during the night – against all advice, of course – and was found to be missing in the morning. Frantic searches, Carter and a police squad called in, rewards posted but no trace of Alice. ICTC ticking over until a representative can be shipped out from London and all that.’

‘Is Alice dead?’

‘That part of George’s story is based on the truth. She rode off into the night, miles from anywhere and has never resurfaced. Edgar rated her chances of survival pretty low. And the chances of finding a body in that bit of country are slim.’

‘Why on earth did she ride off?’

‘Because I’d just arrested her for fraud and as an accessory to the murders of Lionel Conyers and Feodor Korsovsky but mainly because she’d just put a bullet between the eyes of Rheza Khan.’

‘Now why would she want to do that? Good Lord! Rogue of the worst kind, I’m sure, but that seems a bit extreme. Especially when she had you and Edgar standing by, fingers on the trigger.’

‘It was very personal. She trusted him all the way and he betrayed her. She had no idea he was using her as a front for his gun-running. It was the one thing Alice couldn’t stand. All her life, she told me, she’d been used and betrayed by the men she loved. But I think her worst betrayal, the one she never got over, was Korsovsky’s.’

And slowly at first but with growing eloquence as the details of Alice’s story came back to mind, Joe filled in the details as far as he understood them of Alice/Isobel’s early life and the part Madame Flora had played in it. He explained the impersonation at the root of everything and how deception and murder had flowed from it. He went over everything again from the devastating experience of sitting alongside Korsovsky when he had been shot at Tara Devi to the disappearance of Alice and ending with George’s meticulous sanitizing of the story for public consumption.

Maisie’s eyes widened in astonishment as his story unfolded. ‘That’s the most extraordinary story I’ve ever heard! Definitely calling for another drink.’ She called a passing steward. ‘You’re telling me that Saintly Alice is a fraud and she’s pulled the wool over everybody’s eyes for three years?’

‘Yes, beyond any doubt and she has admitted it. Rheza Khan to a limited extent, Troop and Flora were the only ones in Simla – or the world – who knew the truth.’

‘What? Not even Reggie? Her husband!’ Maisie gave a throaty gurgle. ‘I can see a few difficulties there!’

Joe smiled. ‘I know what you mean! And how interested I would be to have heard Alice’s bedtime stories!’

‘I had no idea! And I thought I knew everyone’s secrets in Simla! But hang on a minute, Joe…’ Maisie bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in concentration finally saying slowly, ‘Look, I know you’re the detective and as smart as a new rupee, so I feel a bit daft even suggesting this but – it doesn’t add up! There’s one or two things you’ve just said that strike me as a bit odd.’

She looked at him speculatively. ‘And perhaps that’s what you intended? You’re not happy about it, are you, Joe? The murders, I mean? Alice obviously didn’t do either of the killings herself but was she guilty of ordering Rheza Khan to kill both those men?’

‘She was and she wasn’t,’ said Joe.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? Come on, Joe! You can do better than that!’

‘I’m afraid that it means justice has not yet been done. It means that I got only half of it right. It means that there’s a killer still on the loose.’

Joe paused for a long time, looking along the deck at the passengers enjoying the sunshine. He said at last, ‘Let you into a secret, Maisie. The killer is right here with us on this boat.’

Chapter Twenty-nine

«^»

To her credit, Maisie did not look round.

‘Maisie, I want you to go over this with me. Tell me if you think I’m reading too much into it, making an already mystifying situation even more complex than it really is.’

‘All right – just so long as you only expect me to call on my common sense. I can’t involve any higher authority so don’t think of it! Can’t be done – not on a personal level. It would be like asking the name of the next Derby winner.’ Maisie paused and looked searchingly at him. ‘Are you – are we – in danger, Joe?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure. We could be. This is rather a wild scene! There are no guarantees.’

‘I think you’d better explain.’

Joe began slowly, ‘It goes right back to the two killings. The modus operandi as we call it in the trade.’

Maisie nodded. ‘You don’t have to spell every word. I’m not illiterate. Merl’s brother (horrible man!) was a sniper in the war. Bored the pants off us talking about his experiences and I must say there’s not a lot I can still remember about what he had to say but there are one or two things in your account he would have picked up on and argued about till he was blue in the face. You said Lionel was hit in the head – one shot? – and Korsovsky was hit in the chest – two shots? Well there you are!’

‘Maisie, you’re amazing!’ said Joe with feeling. ‘It’s a foul trade. Merl’s brother would have said – and I would have agreed with him – that snipers always choose the same target area. I’m not talking about a snap shot across No Man’s Land – some fool putting his head above the parapet – but a serious, long-range, carefully planned killing. That’s what we’re talking about. We came to recognize snipers from their technique; even gave them nicknames. And the area they choose is the chest. Much bigger target, you see, less chance of getting it wrong. And if they have time they make sure they’ve pulled it off by firing two rounds. The killing of Korsovsky was cool, controlled and done by the book. I think it was done by a completely different person from the first killing. Lionel was killed by one shot. To the head. I inspected the scene of the ambush with Charlie Carter and I can tell you it was a pretty amazing piece of shooting! I’m a good shot but I wouldn’t have risked a single head shot. Not at that range.’