The Sultan's Tigers by Josh Lacey Read Free Book Online Page A

true,” said Dad. He thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “If Mom says yes, I don’t see why not. Come and talk to her. You’re probably right about the room. Grace has been complaining about it already. She’ll be happy, anyway. Good night, Harvey. See you tomorrow.”
    â€œNight, bro.”
    I followed Dad downstairs and we talked to Mom. I could see she didn’t like the idea of me staying with Uncle Harvey, but she couldn’t find any reason to say no. I fetched my bag from the back of the car, said good night to Jack and Grace, promised Mom and Dad that, yes, I would behave myself and, no, I wouldn’t stay up too late, then said good night to them too and hurried back upstairs.

10
    Once Uncle Harvey had read all the letters, he placed them carefully on the bed and smiled at me. “It’s a great story. I like the sound of Horatio. I’ve heard of Tipu before, but I never knew much about him. And Wellesley, of course. You know who he is?”
    â€œThe general in charge of the army.”
    â€œYes, but do you know who he became?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe Duke of Wellington. Heard of him?”
    â€œYes. He was, um . . .”
    â€œOh, come on, Tom. You must have heard of Wellington.”
    â€œI have. I just can’t remember who he was.”
    â€œYou’ve heard of Wellington boots?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThey’re named after him. And the battle of Waterloo? Wellington against Napoleon? You know who won that, don’t you?”
    â€œWellington,” I guessed.
    â€œAt least you know that much,” said my uncle. “I really would have been shocked if you hadn’t. You should read some books. Learn about history. ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,’ as the man said.”
    â€œWhich man?”
    â€œSantayana.”
    â€œWho?”
    Uncle Harvey just laughed. Then he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.
    â€œWhat are you doing now?” I asked.
    â€œSearching for information.”
    â€œAbout Wellington?”
    â€œNo, not about Wellington. About these tigers. Oh, it’s so slow! The reception here is terrible.”
    He moved to the window and pointed his phone at the sky.
    â€œHere we go,” he said after a minute or two. “Ah, yes. This is the business.”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œA press release from Sotheby’s.”
    â€œOh, yeah. I wanted to ask you about that. What is Sotheby’s?”
    â€œSotheby’s is a very famous and respectable auction house. If you wanted to sell an antique tiger covered in jewels, you might well take it there.”
    â€œWhat do they say?”
    â€œHave a look. It’s from a sale of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Indian art and antiques.”
    He turned the screen to me.
    The tiger was bought for $1,900,000 by a representative of the well-known Indian businessman and art collector Jalata Jaragami, who already owns six of the eight tigers from the famous throne. His unparalleled collection of historical material connected to Tipu Sultan will soon be on show to the public in a new museum to be built on the outskirts of Bangalore.
    I reached for his phone, wanting to scroll down and read more, but he snatched it back and started tapping the screen.
    â€œWhat are you doing now?” I said.
    â€œSearching.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œI told you: information.”
    â€œI didn’t have to tell you about this,” I said. “I could have done it on my own. We’re partners now, Uncle Harvey. You’ve got to tell me what you’re doing.”
    â€œRelax,” he replied.
    â€œNo. Tell me. What are you searching for?”
    â€œI’ve just typed in ‘Jalata Jaragami tiger’ and this is what I’ve found. Here you go—have a look.”
    It was an article from the
Hindustan Times.
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