In a flash Joe understood exactly why George had despatched Lily to the frontier. He could almost hear the words – ‘Ship the damn girl up to the Hills and set Sandilands to look after her!’ Buying himself a week’s peace and quiet in Simla. At Joe’s expense!
It was ten o’clock and the guard was just changing. Joe borrowed a pair of binoculars from a Scout standing down and handed them to Lily. She turned the glasses to the Afghanis encamped below on the football field. ‘They’re having a pow-wow,’ she reported. ‘There’s Iskander in the middle. He’s doing all the talking. They seem to like what he’s saying . . . there’s an awful lot of agreeing going on.’ She was silent for a moment then added, ‘There’s thirty men plus Iskander and they’re all armed. They’ve got . . . thirty-five horses with them . . . good-looking animals . . . and a couple of pack mules. None of them are saddled up so I guess they’re not thinking of going anywhere in a hurry.’
She handed the binoculars back to Joe and said thoughtfully, ‘You know, Joe, there is a reason why Zeman was trying to get up those stairs. He could quite simply have been trying to put some distance between himself and Iskander. He was going up to James or Grace for help in the knowledge that his friend had poisoned him and all that stuff about vomiting being unmanly was just moonshine. Needn’t have been arsenic. Could have been something quick to react that we in the West don’t know about. I expect they all know about poisons.’
‘It makes sense. And you say they were quarrelling in the garden. But what about a motive? Now there we’re stuck, I’m afraid. Who knows what’s going on in the ranks of the Afghani aristocracy? God knows what power struggles they’re involved in! “Inheritance powder” – there might be a clue in that but it’s a bit tenuous and how would we ever find out? I can hardly go down to the encampment and say, “I say, lads, what’re the odds on the succession now? Iskander shortened a bit in the night, did he? Where’s the stable money?”’
A more sinister thought occurred to him. Zeman was of the royal blood and, all would agree, a charismatic figure. There might well be a faction at court who preferred Zeman’s style to that of the Amir Amanullah. If Amanullah had found out it would have made good sense for him to engage a trusted lieutenant and someone close to Zeman to dispose of him discreetly, well away from the Amir’s sphere of influence. If his rival were to die of natural causes under the unbiased eye of the Raj that would be nothing but good news for Amanullah. And doubtless Iskander would have his reward when he returned home. Joe knew he ought to be sharing these thoughts and theories, collecting information from James. But there was something in James’s behaviour since the discovery of the body that Joe was not entirely comfortable with. His friend to whom he would entrust – and indeed in the past had entrusted – his life seemed, in some unseizable way, to have taken a step back from him. Joe decided to leave James out of his calculations and, meantime, Lily was filling the gap remarkably well. And pacing along with his unspoken thoughts apparently.
‘And why wait do it here in the fort? Is that significant, Joe?’ she asked him.
‘I think so. Yes. There are nine impeccable Western witnesses, some of them decidedly important and well-regarded people falling over themselves to prove he had nothing to do with it, that the death was entirely natural and unavoidable. Because the suspicion that Zeman had been killed by anyone while under the protection of James and through him the British Army could well lead to conflagration. We couldn’t even accuse Iskander if we were certain he’d done it – it would be a frightful insult to the Amir.’
‘What would he do about it?’
‘At the worst, he would do what Amirs have done before. Declare a jehad – a holy war – against the British. They’ve done it on much slighter provocation. He would rouse the tribes on this side of the frontier to join his Afghani forces, he might even call on a little Russian support. They’re already supplying him with bomber planes. The Scouts you see manning this fort are all related to the tribesmen in the hills; they are Afridi, Khyberee, Mahsud, Wazir, Khattack, and though they are very loyal and very brave – best fighters in the world perhaps – they are also Muslim and the strength of their faith might well override any army loyalty. Every village has a Mullah holding the Koran in one hand and a drawn sword in the other! Every fort along the frontier could fall to a concerted attack from without and betrayal from within.’