The Security Investigator

The Security Investigator


Now the King was shaken by the assassination attempt and began taking measures to improve security. The guards who had been on duty during the breach were replaced and a new group was brought in. In addition the overall size of the force was doubled and the King was actively involved in its orientation and training. It was his top priority. While this was going on the atmosphere became very tense. Amid the royal household there was unrest, as the new procedures were put in place and a more robust infrastructure imposed on everything.

As if this wasn't enough, Scheherazad became sick the next morning after breakfast. She had become a matter of great interest to the court and when she began vomiting, the matter was soon brought to the King's attention. The first thing that entered his mind was another plot and he summoned his chief physician. As he awaited the doctor's arrival, the Monarch paced about in an angry and agitated state of mind. The arrival of the physician somewhat reduced his anxiety.

"Have you any idea what might have caused your vomiting?" the doctor asked.

Scheherazad answered, "perhaps it was the mushrooms we ate last night, the taste of them lingers in my mouth."

When the King heard this he exploded.

"Bring me the Herb master! I expected as much!"

The Herb Master was located and pushed without ceremony into the room. He was very frightened and the king berated him in a sarcastic tone of voice.

"Why my enemies send assassins is beyond my comprehension. All they have to do is wait patiently and my incompetent staff will do the job for them."

The old man pleaded, "Sire, I checked the mushrooms three times and I swear by all that is holy, that none of them were poisonous."

As he groveled the doctor picked up the chamber pot and looked inside. He smelled of it, put his finger in and took a taste. Turning to the King he said, "I do not think she was poisoned by the mushrooms."

"You don't think?" said the King, "You don't think? Then you are in good company for nobody around her is doing any thinking, least of all for the welfare of my family. Instead of thinking just tell me what ails her; if it's not poison then what is it?"

The physician, who had long experience dealing with the King's tirades, stroked his jaw and replied, "If the question is poison then the answer is easy to determine."

He handed the chamber pot to one of his assistants. "Take this to the kitchen, warm the contents and bring me a bowl of hot rice."

Turning to the King he said, "Summon the food taster, and we will put this possibility to the test."

There was a gallows sense of humor to all this that began diffusing the volatility of the Sultan's mood. The trace of a smile came to his face and turning to the herald he said, "Fetch Basim."

When Basim heard his name being called he feigned deafness. "Calib El Basim, Calib El Basim, report to the dining area."

Meanwhile a serving of rice and the brass pot had returned from the kitchen. When the cook placed them on the banquet table the physician walked over and taking the pot, poured the contents over the rice. Satisfied it was empty, he stuck the ladle into the steaming bowl. He turned to the King with a look of innocence. At that moment Calib stumbled into the room, perspiring and short of breath. The doctor smiled and said in a soothing voice.

"So good to see you, Basim. Come over here my boy and give us a hand. We were hoping that you could help us determine if this food is worthy of the King's table. We want you to taste it and give your opinion... more than taste it, please help yourself to a generous portion."

Basim, sighed in relief, for he realized that this was a task he could manage. "Your wish is my command," he said with a flourish.

Striding officiously over to the table he took the ladle and began scooping the rice into his mouth. "Hummm he murmured, this is good, good, very good indeed." He continued to eat without slowing until most of the rice was gone. At that point the physician said,

"Enough, now go over and sit on that bench and tell us how you feel."

Basim went over and sat down as directed. He smiled at everyone staring at him and basked amid all the attention. After several minutes of utter silence, he belched loudly. Unable to bear the tension any longer he said, "If you want, I can finish off the bowl."

"Help yourself," said the King with a great sigh of relief.

"I think we might have a case of indigestion," offered the physician.

"Allah be praised," the King answered, slapping him on the back. "Have no fear if I seem a bit out of sorts. It's the strain of the past few days. Is it not natural for a husband to have concern for his wife? Were my suspicions that unreasonable?"

"Most understandable," replied the doctor.

"Very well, now give her a good checking over and try and determine what is bothering her."

Somewhat embarrassed by his overreaction, the King stood up and gathering his dignity declared, "Last night my wife had a most remarkable tale. I do not want her to die before I hear the rest of it."

After the Sultan departed, the doctor went over to Scheherazad and dismissed everyone around her. Taking a knee he listened to her stomach and with a low voice discussed matters pertaining to her womanhood. She answered as best she could and when the examination was over he said, "Summon me if there is any reoccurrence of the nausea."

After the doctor's departure, the two girls met again and resumed their favorite topic--how to get the King to stop beheading his wives. They took up where they had left off earlier, when Dunazad pointed out, "What goes in must come out." Scheherazad picked up on the thread.

"You know my husband has forbidden me to leave the palace. If I were free to move about I would not ask you to get more involved, however, there are some things we need to confirm.

"Yes?"

"First we need to get into the dungeon and see what evidence it offers. Then we must determine what happens to the body."

"Go on."

"While there is little doubt in my mind that the poor girls are dead, Allah in his wisdom, has pointed out a thread worthy of further examination and I intend to follow it to the end."

Dunazad, inquired, "If you couldn't get into that chamber, what makes you think that I can?"

Scheherazad pondered some time and then replied, "I want you to go to the king and tell him that his preparations are incomplete without the scrutiny of a woman's point of view. Tell him this is because a man's mind is not devious enough. Tell him you want to undertake your own investigation to see if you can't find opportunities, holes in his plans, that he and his men have overlooked."

"OK, what then?"

"Then go to the dungeon and check matters out. The guard will not refuse you if you are on the King's business."

"And once inside?"

"Look around for useful evidence, determine how the body is transported and see if you can find out what Omar does with the remains."

"I won't disappoint you," she assured her sister and went to the King and spoke to him in the manner they had agreed to.

"Oh Great King, everyone is impressed with the tightness of the new security protocols, and agree that the revised system is much superior to the old. However.....,"

"However?" mimicked the King.

"Only that a man's mind is not the same as a woman's. It's not as devious."

"Truly spoken, but so what?"

"Because men are always overlooking "loopholes" that are not apparent to a male but are obvious to a female."

"What are you getting at?" the King asked.

"You should appoint a woman to advise you on security matters."

The King choked. "and become the laughing stock of the kingdom?"

"Better to be laughed at than shot full of arrows. Truly, sire, nobody is going to laugh at you about anything. Your wisdom is renowned and this action will only enhance your reputation."

"You don't say," the King said in disbelief.

"What the people will say is that the Sultan has once again shown his shrewdness. That he has a knack for overturning rocks that no one else thinks to look under."

"And what woman should I appoint?"

"I volunteer my services," Dunazad answered, " My sister tells me that there is no mind in all Persia that is more devious than my own."

"Your Sister is wise in some things," said the King, "still, what's the harm?"

So the King motioned me over and I carried out my duties as scribe. "Draft up a commission," he directed me, "appointing Dunazad a special investigator. See to it you give her all the latitude she needs."

After I finished, he took the scroll, affixed the royal signet, and handed it to Dunazad. She bowed low, and was taking her leave when the king had second thoughts. "Not so fast," he said, "I do not want you wandering about alone, hither and yon, in these times of danger and uncertainty. If an intruder can manage to almost kill me he would have little difficulty ambushing you, walking about unprotected. If you wish to continue in this I must impose a security detail to safeguard your whereabouts."

Dunazad sighed, "I cannot do this with a platoon of infantry following me about. We might as well forget it. Anyone seeing the signature of so large a party would easily discern the location and nature of my inquiry."

The King reflected a moment and then extending his hand said, "I agree, this is not such a good idea. Give me back the scroll. I will think more about it and get back to you later."

Dunazad saw opportunity slipping away and realized that "later" would never come. She implored him, "Surely there is some way to compromise."

Then the King had an idea. Since the Esmeralda affair, the blackamoor had been left without a job. To be sure the King had told the guards to take the moor to the dungeon but the whole charade had been planned by the King, with the guards and the blackamoor present, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the moor had done no more than the King instructed. So they took him to the guard's quarters instead and suffered him there because he had a sense of humor and was a most affable fellow. Still, the King knew that idle hands where the instruments of the devil and so he said,

"Very well, take the blackamoor as your personal body guard and dispose of him as you will. This will allow you to work without attracting attention. Go now and perform your duty and report back any "loopholes" you might uncover."

So the blackamoor was summoned and assigned his mission. At first, Dunazad contented herself with a leisurely walk around the palace walls. Then she went down by the river and took a wider stroll around the perimeter. As she walked along she pretended to look for avenues of approach that others might overlook. As she did, the overall security became accustomed to her presence and took no further notice. That evening she decided it was time to go to the dungeon and so after dinner they left the palace and went to the confinement facility. Off the main corridor she came to the cell used for executions and there stood the guard, ever diligent in his duties.

Looking him straight in the eye, Dunazad ordered, "I am here on the King's business. Open the door!"

The guard looked back at her and replied, "I don't care what you're here for, no one is allowed to enter without the presence of the King or Omar, the terrible."

"I have a commission! Signed by the King," Dunazad snapped back, "that gives me full access."

"I care nothing about your commission," the soldier replied, "I have my orders."

The blackamoor walked up beside the guard and said,

"Do you know who this woman is...? Do you have any idea who you are talking to?"

"I do," spoke the guard, "her name is Dunazad. She is sister to the Queen, and for your information, the most wonderful dancer in the world."

Now Dunazad was taken back with his words on two counts. First she had never before heard her sister referred to as "The Queen." Despite the fact she was married to the king, and still had her head, hearing the title used for the first time was a new experience. It was not just "The Queen" but it was also the reverence with which the guard spoke. The second thing was his reference to her dancing skills and this was a matter she intended to follow up.

"How do you know about my dancing?" she asked.

"Your reputation is known to all who have ears," he answered.

"Excuse me," she replied, "your comment sounded more like seeing than hearing."

The guard began to stammer, "Everyone knows you have the grace of an antelope".

"An antelope?"

"I mean a gazelle."

"Now that's an improvement."

The blackamoor, seeing her purpose, stepped behind the guard and made three gestures. He had been in the guardroom for several days and had heard many of the soldiers' conversations. With his first gesture he pointed emphatically to the back of the guard's head; with the second he pointed into his own eyes with two fingers spread apart. With the third he pointed at Dunazad with a repetitive motion of his finger. Then he grinned wickedly.

Dunazad was amused, but had long experience in concealing her emotions. Instead of smiling her face took a quizzical look and she stepped up close under the guard's chin. Raising her eyebrows and looking hard into his eyes she said,

"I hate it when a man lies to me. When it happens I want to kill the son of a jackal."

Her stare was cold and her tone ominous. The soldier stood at attention and began to tremble. "Is it not true that you have seen me dance with your own eyes?" The guard paled. "And was I not in the very presence of the King when you made this observation?"

His knees began shaking.

"And no doubt you saw parts of me that only the King or my future husband should have knowledge of."

The guard fell apart and prostrated himself before her and pleaded,

"Forgive me, great lady, but it's not my fault. It was my brother's, he removed the brick and bid me gaze into the harem."

"Why you pervert," she scolded. " It's not enough that you spied on me, but you probably also saw my sister naked in her bath."

"No! No! I swear to you, when she was so disposed, I closed my eyes."

Dunazad struggled to maintain her composure. "Why you miserable peeper. Come with me to the palace. You can convince the Queen of your innocence."

"Please great lady, have mercy," he begged. "Take pity on me, I am repentant and Allah is merciful."

Dunazad was unrelenting. "And where were you and your friends when the assassin climbed undetected over the wall. Gathered around your "peep hole?"

"No! No! Please, I beg of you, do not accuse me of that." "I was off duty and I fear the King's wrath."

"Well you should, for retribution will follow when he finds out."

"Please! Please! Don't tell him. I will do anything you ask."

Reaching forward she hit him over the head with her commission and demanded, "Open this door immediately!"

The guard responded pulling out his key ring. They jangled in his hands as he fumbled in great haste. At length he unlocked the door and threw it open.

Dunazad walked down the oblique corridor and entered the death room. She noted several pairs of manacles hanging on the walls. In the center was the block of a great oak tree, into which was imbedded the severing blade. Beyond that there was little to note. She walked over to the block and brushed away some flies buzzing about the undried residue. Turning about, she departed and once more engaged the guard in conversation.

"Walk with me now and explain what happens after a wife is put to death."

"The guard answered. "Omar takes the body outside. In one hand he carries the head satchel and his other arm holds the shroud over his shoulder."

"And then?"

"He takes them out to his cart..."

"Walk with me and explain it as we go."

The soldier continued, "He then proceeds down this very corridor and out into the courtyard.

The corridor opened into a courtyard. The yard had several entrance doors and at one end was a Roman Arch, large enough for horses and carts. Half the space was taken up with construction materials and in one corner was an open shed containing disks of pressed coal. These were of various sizes used in cooking and heating. The other half was open and used for guard formations, dray vehicles, and the tethering of horses.

The soldier continued, "Over there Omar parks his horse and cart. He takes the satchel and body bag, and puts them in the cart. Then.."

She interrupted, "Is the cart always positioned as you described or is it sometimes parked in a different spot?"

"It's always the same, right here, between these two rows of cobblestones."

"Go on."

"When the body is in the cart he gets in, drives beneath the arch and is gone."

Dunazad put her hand on the guard's shoulder.

"For my part I will keep silent about the peeping. For your part I advise you to keep your mouth shut about tonight's visit."

He replied, "What visit?"

Looking to the blackamoor she smiled, "Is he trustworty?"

"Yes." the moor answered.