Page 28 of The Amsterdam Enigma (The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterton #3)

“ W hy are you here, William? What’s the reason for all the skulking about?” As pleased as Melody was to see him, she felt irritated by the secrecy. If he had something to tell her, why hadn’t he contacted her days earlier, in broad daylight, and just said it?

Surely, this was more than just an over-the-top romantic gesture.

William had always seemed so sensible and down-to-earth.

Was she mistaken? Had he followed her to Amsterdam and found her on a dark, deserted street to declare his love?

As soon as she thought of this, Melody realised how foolish it was.

He was the one who had walked away from her, not the other way round.

If he had wanted to fight for her, William could have done so in Morocco rather than saying goodbye.

“Melody, I had to warn you. I know what your brother and Foscari believe they’ve uncovered, but there’s more to it than meets the eye.

I voiced my concerns about the situation, but I was undercut, dismissed, and ultimately sent away to Morocco for my troubles.

The unfortunate series of events there was considered my second black mark.

I am meant to be back in London, but I had to follow you here and try to help. ”

He was still being so cryptic with these vague warnings that Melody was tempted to get up and leave immediately. Instead, she asked, “Can you speak more plainly? What concerns? What help do I need? ”

“To be honest, I only have suspicions and haven’t put it all together.

Just before I was sent away, I grew worried that Vermeer had been compromised.

I was uneasy about the authenticity of the false flag information; some of it seemed too perfect.

I reported my concerns back to the Foreign Office and was told to stand down.

The false flag narrative fits too neatly with what Sir Edward and his cronies want to believe about Germany and its intentions. ”

Melody was all too aware of the British Foreign Secretary, Sir Edward Grey’s, sentiments towards Germany.

He and his private secretary, William’s brother, Adam, had been behind Alessandro’s arrest for murder, or at least indirectly responsible for it.

That had also been a tangled attempt to sway public opinion away from Germany.

Was this happening again? Is that what William had uncovered? Melody asked the question.

In response, William looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but then it never would have occurred to me that they were behind all the mayhem in Morocco. What I do believe is that they are desperate to expose this so-called false flag operation and sway the Dutch away from neutrality.”

Melody wasn’t sure what to believe. Her experiences in Morocco had taught her that things are not always as they seem, even when it was her own government in action. Was there more to what was happening in Amsterdam than they realised?

“Why are you telling me?” she had to ask. “Why not tell Matthew or Conte Foscari? After all, they are the ones officially working this mission.”

She heard William sigh. “Foscari is part of the problem. At least I believe he is. I don’t have concrete proof, but I believe I was ordered back to London on his advice.

Before leaving Morocco, I made another attempt to return to Amsterdam and pick up where I left off, aiming to get to the bottom of what I think might be going on.

I heard rumours that the conte persuaded the powers that be to send him and Mr. Sandworth instead and keep me out of it. ”

Was this true? Melody couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After all William had done to help save Rat and, in doing so, secure Alessandro’s release, would he really betray William in such a way?

It wasn’t much later when William said he had to leave. “I cannot risk being seen with you. I have no idea what danger that might put you in.” Melody would have liked to ask more about this statement and about what he wanted her to do, but there wasn’t enough time.

There was one question she did think to ask just as he was turning to leave: “William, did you slip the cypher key into my jacket pocket when I was leaving the library the other day?”

William looked at her sharply. “No. That wasn’t me. I never had the cypher key. Vermeer had talked about finding it and bringing it to me, but I was ordered to Morocco before he had a chance.”

He caressed her cheek with his palm. “Be very careful, Melody. Truly, I don’t believe everything is as it appears. Why would someone give you the cypher key? How would they even know to approach you?”

And with that, he turned and disappeared down a narrow path between particularly lush foliage.

It wasn’t until he was gone that Melody realised William hadn’t even left her a way to contact him.

However, she rationalised, it was clear he knew where and how to find her.

It comforted her knowing that William was in the shadows, watching out for her.

However, he had left her with a big decision to make and no guidance as to what she should do: what, if anything, should she say to Rat?

It was unpleasant, but not unthinkable, to imagine Alessandro turning against William.

It was preposterous to imagine Rat deliberately doing anything dishonourable in any way.

Her brother was one of the most decent men Melody knew, and that said a lot, considering she was raised by Wolf and spent most of her life among men like Bear and Lord Langley.

Melody understood what integrity and honour looked like, and Rat embodied both.

Though even knowing all that, should she tell him?

If nothing else, Rat’s sense of honour would almost certainly mean sharing this information with Alessandro, who, it seemed, already knew and had dismissed William’s concerns.

All that alerting him to Captain Somerset’s presence in Amsterdam would probably do was get William into even more trouble than he was already in.

Melody decided to stroll through the grounds of the botanical gardens for a while. If nothing else, how would she explain to Mary why she had taken so little time otherwise? The walk also provided her with some time to think .

William’s warning had been so vague. He had come to think that Vermeer might have been compromised.

Might. Did the man’s subsequent death support or detract from that possibility?

Melody could see how one might argue it either way; if Vermeer was who he claimed to be and was stealing and leaking information about Germany, he might have been caught and killed.

Or, perhaps he had been playing both sides and got found out.

She kept returning to one thing William had said about the authenticity of the information he’d received: it all seemed too perfect.

Did it? It was fortunate that Vermeer had been clutching a piece of manifest when he did; was it more than fortunate?

And she couldn’t stop returning to the cypher key that mysteriously appeared in her pocket.

At the time, they had been so grateful for it that none of them questioned too closely who might have given it to her.

Now, this decision seemed shortsighted. Alessandro had seemed convinced that it had come from another informant.

Had it? Was there a reason he had been so willing to adopt this theory?

Melody wandered the winding paths of the Hortus Botanicus, her hands brushing against the leaves of unfamiliar plants that lined the path.

The air was thick with the scent of moss and turned earth, warmed by the morning sun; it was going to be another hot day.

She paused near a trickling fountain at the edge of a large expanse of grass, admiring a fern while she reflected on her conversation with William.

Children’s laughter echoed faintly from across the lawn.

Vermeer might have confided in someone who, after his death, took on the cause themselves.

The more Melody considered this, the more plausible the idea seemed.

In fact, she wondered if Vermeer’s wife knew more than they realised.

After all, they had posed as journalists, so why would she reveal what she knew?

Or what if someone he worked with at the docks was involved?

It wasn’t too far-fetched to imagine others wanting to steer the Netherlands away from aligning with Germany.

While this all seemed possible, she kept returning to the question of who had put the cypher key in her pocket.

Whoever it was, it had to be someone aware that Rat and Alessandro had come to Amsterdam to take over the work William had been doing.

More importantly, that person knew enough to put the paper in her pocket .

Melody saw a body of water ahead and decided to head there.

As she walked, she reflected on the day her bag was stolen.

She had been in the library, and her jacket was on the table beside her.

Had she got up and left it at any point?

She couldn’t recall doing so, but perhaps she had.

Then, Jemima Edwards had arrived, and they had spoken for a few minutes. After that, Melody left.

Wait! Jemima Edwards. No! It couldn’t be. Overly chatty, Jemima Edwards couldn’t possibly be anything other than the perky, too-friendly young woman she appeared to be. Or could she?

Now, Melody’s mind was racing. Jemima had access to the jacket and could have slipped something in it, but why? Why would she have access to the cypher key? And why wouldn’t she just give it to them if she did? Who was she really?

Melody remembered the words she had spoken to Rat during her initial irritation about Miss Edwards.

She had said, “You bumped into her in the lobby, then carried her books up. That is all. She could be anyone.” Had she sensed something at that moment, only to be later lulled into ignoring it by Jemima’s friendliness?

Melody knew they had discussed her travels over breakfast the other morning.

At the time, she had the fleeting thought that the comment about the gunboat at Agadir was a little too close to the mark.

Had it been more than just a passing remark?

If her conversation with William had disoriented her, she was even more flustered by these reflections.

What did it all mean, and what should she do with this information?

One thing was for certain: if she went to Rat with accusations about Miss Edwards but lacked proof, he would dismiss it as petty gossip on Melody’s part.

Of course, she had no proof. She wasn’t even certain that Jemima had slipped her the paper.

Melody knew she needed more evidence before approaching her brother, let alone Alessandro. But how was she going to gather it?