Chapter 14

The courtroom had the full complement of judges facing the accused. The presiding judge put a black cloth over his head and without further ado, pronounced sentence. Nadhir translated, “The accused was found guilty of spying, if not by intent, then by consequence of the outcome that letters were in her possession, letters that could do great harm to the state of Tunisia in the hands of its enemies. For this act she is condemned to death by suffocation.” Lady Bethune gave a small cry of despair. “For associating himself with the accused, Chief Engineer Fraser-Reid is condemned to fifteen years in jail.”

Lady Bethune jumped up. “That’s not fair! He had nothing to do with the letters...”

“Silence!!!” Nadhir roared. “The law is harsh, for the consequences are harsh when it comes to the security of the nation.” He turned to Chance. “Have you anything to say?”

“Indeed, I do. In my case the judgment is just. I did more than Lady Bethune to threaten the security of Tunis...”

“What?!! What...?”

“I’ve written letters to the French authorities, telling them exactly how to destroy Tunis, like the Romans did Carthage. Burn and tear down the walls, fill all the wells and scatter salt everywhere that nothing may grow in this accursed land.”

“And how have you managed all that?” Nadhir had regained his composure, his voice dripping skepticism.

“By telling them how to conquer the city without firing a single shot.”

“Again I ask, how?”

“Very simply, by telling them how to destroy the city’s water supply.” A stir went through the room. “By destroying the three aqueducts serving the city, poisoning the river and streams. The city can’t last a month using only the wells and the few cisterns to provide for the entire population.”

“Really?”

“I gave exact map references for where to blow up the aqueducts, and where to slaughter a herd of cattle upstream and let it rot there to pollute the water flowing into the city. Very simple really. All the French have to do is blockade the harbor entrance and let the plague ravage the city.” The mention of pestilence really stirred up the judges. Tides of plagues had decimated the population, the last only thirty years before.

“And you wrote this to the French?”

“Not directly. I addressed twelve letters to them, with strict instructions to be mailed if Lady Bethune and I don’t show up in Egypt by the 30th of this month.”

“You’re trying to blackmail this judicial seating!”

“Not blackmail. It’s a form of insurance. Like a policy with Lloyd’s of London. If we die, or even are late, the letters will go out to the appropriate addresses. I’m sure that the French will know what to do with them.”

“Hardly seems possible you would have the skill and expertise to...”

“I’m an engineer, concerned with water and steam. Believe me, I know exactly what it would take... With water short, all it takes is a few smuggled-in firebombs to start a conflagration that would use up your water reserves fighting fires or letting the city burn down. With the crowding of the Lower Quarter and the Waterfront, a fire would be easy. A hard choice. The letters explaining all this are on their way to Egypt now―”

“You are making this up...”

“Can you afford to take the risk? I think the French would gladly sacrifice the city to gain the rest of the country.” The translator translated hurriedly, at his words the judges looked aghast. Fire was feared as much as pestilence, and the Chief Engineer was proposing the dangers of both.

Nadhir looked contemptuous at the Chief Engineer, “And you are willing to put thousands at risk, just to save yourselves?”

Chance remained calm. “It seems to me that you’re quite willing to risk those same thousands yourself just to punish the two of us. Where is the sense in that?”

There was a hurried consult as the judges considered how best to respond. In the discussion that followed, the judges lost some of their haughtiness as they argued among themselves. The voices rose and the gestures at times became vehement.

“If, and I emphasize the if, we let you go, what assurance do we have that the letters will not go out?”

“First, our word. Second, we have no personal or national desire to help the French in anything. Although I can’t say that I have enjoyed my stay in your city, I’m not vengeful enough to unleash such a catastrophe.” Challenging, he looked the judges in the eye. “You dilemma is to risk our word against the certainty that the letters will be sent to your enemies... unless you reconsider your judgment.”

There was again a conference, sharp arguments for and against; the panel seemed split down the middle. The Chief Engineer stood calm, as he had in midst of the recent storm.

Lady Bethune sat there, her face pale, her heart hammering. Where did the Chief Engineer get the audacity to come up with such a brazen insurance policy? And more importantly, would the judges swallow it? Finally, they seemed to have come to a compromise, the faces again resuming their stony look of authority. Nadhir turned to the accused and his expression changed to conciliatory.

“It seems that we may have overestimated the damage Lady Bethune represents to our interest. Though we continue to condemn her role, we are inclined to be merciful. We therefore deem the sentence just, but suspend the sentence on grounds of compassion.”

“That seems fair. We never contested the fact that she accepted the letters, but she did so unknowingly.” Chance nodded his head approvingly, showing agreement with the concession, but he wasn’t through yet. “Our one remaining problem is that the process exposed us to a number of inconveniences. Extra costs, and the need and expense of arranging transportation to Egypt.”

Nadhir looked momentarily taken aback, but let himself into bargaining. After all, the one thing all Tunisians were good at was arguing the price of things. They were soon haggling over sums trying to make a better deal.

After quite a bit of haggling, the expenses were assumed by Tunis. A dhow would be placed at their disposal, to leave at their earliest convenience. A 500 dinar compensation was also made part of the transaction to speed them on their way.

Not long after, Lady Bethune and The Chief Engineer stood on deck of a dhow watching the city shrink as they sailed away. Lady Bethune couldn’t breathe freely until they had left the channel and reached the open sea of the Mediterranean.

“Now tell me honestly,” Lady Bethune asked, her eyes sharp on the Chief Engineer. “Did you write those letters or was it all a bluff?”

“Does it really matter now?” Chance looked back at the coastline, a strip of land fading from sight. “I might have, then again I might not...” was his answer. Lady Bethune couldn’t decide between the alternatives. She shuddered that her life had been balanced on such a flimsy supposition. There had to be those letters, she decided, struggling back to firmer ground. It was unthinkable that the Chief Engineer could be such a gambler, daring such slim odds.

“We made it,” she said finally when the land slipped below the horizon, not sure which was real: the freedom or the nightmare of the last days.

“And this time we didn’t even need a carpet.”

“What did you say???”

“Surely, you remember the oriental story of the magical carpet that flies...?”