Clive Cussler - Crescent Dawn

“Yes, if you don’t mind, I think I’d be much more comfortable,” she said. “Let me grab my toothbrush.”

Julie walked into the bathroom, then suddenly called to Summer.

“What is it, Julie?” she said, rushing in.

Julie stood with a grim look on her face, pointing to a small vanity mirror next to the sink. The room thief had left her a warning, written in her own pink lipstick, on the mirror. Pointed and succinct, it said simply, “Let K be.”

Julie awoke the next morning after a fitful night’s sleep. Her sense of fear and anxiety had gradually evolved into a feeling of indignant violation. Rising early, she found herself burning with anger.

“Who could have known that we discovered the diary?” she said, pacing the floor of the hotel room. “We had only just found it ourselves.”

Summer was in the bathroom, fixing her hair. “Perhaps he didn’t actually know about the diary,” she replied. “He might have just been trying to find out what you knew and got lucky.”

“I suppose it’s possible. But why the warning? What is it about Kitchener’s death nearly a century after the fact that someone would still be afraid of?”

Summer sprayed on a touch of perfume, then joined Julie in the bedroom. “I’d say one thing is certain. It has to be someone who knows more than we do about either the Manifest or the sinking of the Hampshire .”

“Or both,” Julie concurred. She caught a whiff of Summer’s perfume. “That’s a lovely fragrance,” she said.

“Thank you. It was a gift from a friend of mine in British Columbia.”

“The cologne,” Julie suddenly blurted. “I nearly forgot. The intruder who tied me up last night had the scent of men’s cologne. I’m sure it was the same fragrance as worn by that fellow we met at Lambeth Library.”

“You mean Mr. Baker? Do you think it was him?”

“I’m not sure about anything at the moment, but I think it could have been him. Don’t you remember? He asked us about the diary. I thought it was a bit odd, at the time.”

“You’re right. We’ll check with the library when we get back to London,” Summer said. “I’m sure there’s a good chance the librarian will be able to identify him.”

Julie was slightly relieved, but the revelation only fueled her inquisitiveness.

“In the meantime, I say we get on over to Broome Park and see what Aldrich knows about his cousin Emily.”

They ate a quick breakfast at the hotel, then hopped in the car and drove to Broome Park. Two miles outside of Canterbury, the car sailed through a deep dip in the road.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Julie said, detecting a sharp vibration through the steering column.

The car struck another small rut in the road, and the passengers felt a sudden jerk followed by a wail of screeching metal. Summer looked out the window in shock to see the right front wheel bounding ahead of the car and onto the shoulder of the road. The car immediately veered sharply to the right into the oncoming lane. Julie yanked the steering wheel hard left to compensate, but there was no reaction.

The wheel-less right hub ground into the asphalt amid a spray of sparks as the car careened counterclockwise. The vehicle’s three remaining tires smoked and squealed as the car spun around and then slid off the road backward. Bounding over the shoulder, the car skidded across a patch of grass before slamming into a low embankment. As the dust cleared, Julie shut off the idling motor, then turned to Summer.

“You okay?” she asked breathless.

“Yes,” Summer replied, taking a deep breath herself. “Quite a jolt. I’d say we were a bit lucky.”

She saw that Julie looked pale and still had her hands clenched tightly to the steering wheel.

“It was him,” she said quietly.

“Well, if it was, he’ll have to do a lot better than that to take us down,” Summer replied defiantly, trying to lift Julie’s spirits. “Let’s see if we can get back on the road.”

As she opened her door, a black motorcycle came blazing up the road. The rider slowed slightly, giving the damaged car a long gaze. Then he applied a heavy throttle and roared on down the road.

“Don’t bother helping us,” Summer spat as the black shape disappeared around the bend.

She hiked over to the road and found the stray wheel lying on the shoulder. Standing it upright, she rolled it back to the car. Julie had climbed out but was sitting on a large rock, her hands still shaking. Summer opened the trunk and retrieved the jack, then worked it under the front bumper. The ground was hard and mostly level, which enabled her to raise the hub off the ground. Despite some deep scoring on the hub, she was able to mount the wheel, fastening it down with a trio of lug nuts cannibalized from the other wheels. She made sure the lugs were tightened all the way around, then stowed the jack back in the trunk.

“Summer, you handled that with ease,” Julie complimented. She had regained her demeanor and finally stopped shaking. “I thought we would have to ring the auto club.”

“My father has been teaching me how to work on antique cars,” she said with a proud grin. “He always says that any girl ought to be able to change a tire.”

Julie surveyed a slight crease to the rear bumper, then handed the car keys to Summer.

“Do you mind driving the rest of the way? My nerves are shot.”

“Not at all,” Summer replied. “As long as you don’t mind some slow going through any potholes.”

Taking the keys, she hopped into the right-hand seat and started the car, then eased back onto the road. They felt no more ill effects from the car, and soon pulled into the parking lot at Broome Park. The two women entered the manor, finding Aldrich laying out croissants and tea in the garden atrium. Julie made no mention of their auto accident as she pulled him aside for a moment.

“Aldrich, I wonder if I could ask you about Emily Kitchener?”

The old man’s eyes lit up immediately. “Why, Emily was a lovely lady. I was just telling a guest about her last night. She used to love walking the gardens here in the evening to hear the nightingales sing. Hard to believe she’s been gone ten years now.”

“She used to live here at the estate?” Summer asked.

“Oh yes. My father took her in when her husband was killed in a railway accident. That must have been around 1970. She lived in what’s now the Windsor Suite, on the top floor.”

“Do you by chance recall her having any friends or associates named Sally?” Julie asked.

“No, I don’t recall anyone named Sally,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Did she ever mention being given any documents or papers from Lord Kitchener?” Summer queried.

“She never made any mention to me of such. Of course, she would have been quite young when the Earl died. You are welcome to take a look at her things, if you like. I have a few boxes of her possessions down in the basement.”

Summer gave Julie a hopeful gaze.

“If it wouldn’t be an imposition,” Julie said to Aldrich.

“Not at all. I can take you down right now.”

Aldrich led them to his private quarters and through a locked door to a corner stairway. Down the steps, they reached a dimly lit basement, which was little more than a broad corridor that extended beneath a fraction of the whole residence. Aged wooden crates and dust-covered furniture were stacked high along both walls.

“Much of this old furniture was the Earl’s,” Aldrich explained as he led them down the corridor. “I really must arrange for another auction one of these days.”

At the end of the corridor, they reached a heavy door sealed with a dead bolt.