The Torch of Tangier Read Online Free

just be here for the 1941 season, then go back to Chicago.”
    Donovan glanced at Drury. “But you stayed,” he said to Lily. “Over a year longer. It’s 1942, almost November now.”
    “The war,” MacAlistair said. “How would she get home? She’d have to go south to the Cape, then over to South America.”
    “And Drury won’t pay for that, I suppose.” Donavan turned to Lily. “So what do you do with your time?”
    “Not much. Getting to know the city.”
    “Participant observation. Isn’t that what you anthropologists call it?”
    “I’m an archaeologist. I’m just observing, not participating.”
    Again Donovan glanced at Drury.
    “You speak Arabic, Miss Sampson? French or Spanish?”
    “I can speak a little of the local dialect they use in Palestine. It’s different from what they use here but I can understand most of what the Tanginos are saying. As for French, my pronunciation is awful and my vocabulary tends toward archaeological terms like tesson for potsherd, niveau for level. Just high school Spanish.”
    “But you can get along.”
    “Pretty much.”
    “With all that free time, you must be bored. Maybe you could help out at the Legation.”
    “I don’t…” Lily began.
    But before she was sure of her answer, Drury stepped in. “Great idea. We’ll both go down there, offer our services.”
    Donovan gave a grunt of approval. He moved toward the door. “I took the liberty of mentioning both of you to the chargé d’affaires at the Legation. Name is Quentin Boyle. He’s expecting you.”
    Drury seemed satisfied. “We’ll drop by this afternoon.”
    “I’ll call and tell him you’re coming.” Donovan started to leave. “Be careful,” he said to Drury and then turned to Lily. “Good to have met you Miss Sampson. Maybe we’ll meet again.” He sauntered toward the inside of the house and then stepped back into the garden.
    “While you’re there,” he said to Drury, “check out the personnel. I’d like to hear what they’re up to.”
    “Something wrong?”
    “Nothing I can put my finger on.”
    MacAlistair coughed gently, looking from Donovan to Drury and back to Donovan. “I’ll see you out,” he said and followed Donovan out of the garden.
    “Looks like you’ll be working at the Legation,” Drury told Lily.
    “How do you know? We haven’t gone there yet, haven’t asked for the job.”
    “Wild Bill always gets his way. Nobody can turn him down.”
    MacAlistair returned, followed by Zaid.
    “Who was that?” Zaid asked.
    MacAlistair hesitated, looked over at Drury. “A friend of Drury’s.”
    “What was he doing here?”
    “Dropped by to say hello,” Drury said.
    Lily watched the water splay in the fountain while MacAlistair crossed to the chair he had been sitting in earlier, sat down with a sigh, and picked up the glass of tea.
    Zaid sat in the other chair and leaned forward. “The tea is cold. I’ll get you a fresh pot.”
    “We have to leave. Have an appointment at the Legation,” Drury told him.
    Zaid seemed annoyed, distracted. “Want me to drive you?” He stood up, searched in his pocket and pulled out the car keys.
    “Sure.” Drury strode out of the garden, through the sitting room, and was waiting at the Hillman before Zaid and Lily reached the drive outside the gate.

Chapter Four
    At the Legation, the acrid smell of an old building—damp plaster and musty wood—hung in the air. A Marine corporal in dress uniform perched in a glass enclosure at the entrance nodded to Drury and gave Lily a quizzical look.
    “She’s with me,” Drury told him. “We have an appointment with Boyle.”
    The corporal waved them through.
    ***
    In the office of the chargé d’affaires, Quentin Boyle leaned back in his chair, both hands on his desk. “So you say you’re an expert on Arab affairs, know how they think.”
    Boyle had auburn hair and a pale redhead’s skin. He had a nick on the right side of his nose, and his nostril flared and fluttered when