Rapscallion (47 page)

Morgan
looked pensive. "I've got to be honest; I can't see what your motive would
be for helping him; which makes me inclined to believe Officer Hawkwood here is
telling the truth when he says you were in the dark as much as we were. It's a
dilemma, right enough."

"One
way to find out," Pepper said. He threw Morgan a penetrating look.

"What
is this?" Lasseur said.

"Your
chance to make things right.
If you are who
you say you are, then he's played you for a fool. Are you going to let him get
away with that? Go on, take it. Kill the son of a bitch."

Lasseur
hesitated. Then, slowly, he took the gun. Croker looked sceptical. He took out
his pistol and trained it on Lasseur.

"Kill
me," Hawkwood said, "and they'll only send someone else."

Morgan
laughed. "They'll be too bloody late."

"They'll
hunt you down, Morgan. You'll be in a world of trouble."

"Funny,
that's what that navy lieutenant said. I've forgotten his name already. Remind
me, Cephus."

"Sark,"
Pepper said.

"No,
not him.
The first
one."

"Masterson?"

"That's
the one!
Kept telling us that, if we killed him, the navy
would only send someone after him."

"They
did," Pepper said. "They sent Sark."

"And
look what happened to him!" Morgan grinned at Hawkwood. "I'm guessing
they sent you to look for the other two - am I right? Wonder why they sent a
Runner? Perhaps the navy's out of lieutenants. God, you'd have thought they'd
have learnt by now, wouldn't you?" He turned to Lasseur. "II you're
going to do it, Captain, now's the time. Might as well put the poor bugger out
of his misery."

Lasseur
faced Hawkwood. His expression was as bleak as a winter sky.

He
raised the pistol and fired.

"You're
telling me he's been gone for twelve days?" Jago asked.

James
Read nodded.

They
were in Read's office. The Chief Magistrate was seated at his desk. Jago was
standing with his back to the window. It was late in the evening. Outside,
darkness had fallen, reflecting the mood in the room.

"Not
exactly a lifetime. The captain's a grown man. He can look after himself. When
was the last time you had word of him?"

"The
last positive news was six days ago, though not from Hawkwood directly. We
received a dispatch from Ludd advising us that Officer Hawkwood and the
privateer, Lasseur, had escaped from the ship." Read paused and then said,
"Ludd informed me that they left rather a lot of chaos in their
wake."

Jago
was about to retort,
No change
there, then,
only to be forestalled by the look on the Chief Magistrate's
face.

"What
sort of chaos?" he asked guardedly.

"Five
dead, including a child."

Jago
stared at Read aghast. "What?"

"I'm
led to understand that the child - a young boy - was in severe jeopardy.
Hawkwood and Lasseur went to his aid. They were forced to defend themselves
against serious assault. At least that's the explanation that was given to the
ship's commander. Captain Ludd is still ascertaining the facts. It seems the
commander, a Lieutenant Hellard, chose to deal with the incident in a manner
that went beyond the boundaries of Royal Navy discipline, as it applies to the
treatment of prisoners of war. He is to face a Board of Enquiry and is unlikely
to emerge unscathed. If he thought that commanding a prison hulk was the lowest
depth he could plumb, he is going to be sorely disappointed."

Jago,
still shaken, looked pensive. "And that's it? That's all you know?"

"There
may be more."

"Meanin'
what?"

"Ludd
also reported that, on the night of their escape, there was an incident on the
opposite coast. A place called Warden. A force of Revenue men supported by a
small company of dragoons intercepted a landing party. In the melee that
ensued, several men were wounded. One of the Revenue men was watching through a
spyglass. He couldn't be certain, but he thought there were two members of the
smugglers' gang who stood aside and appeared to play no part in the landing of
the contraband, and when the shooting started they did not seek to conceal
themselves ashore, but instead hurried to board the smugglers' boat as it
pulled away. He also said that, unlike the rest of the smuggler crew, they
seemed to be unarmed. He thought that was . . . unusual."

"And
you think it was the captain and the Frenchie?" Jago said, looking
doubtful. "Any of the smugglers caught or questioned?"

"Unfortunately,
it was the smugglers who emerged victorious. They were able to call up support;
as a result it was the Revenue who
were
forced to
retreat." Read pursed his lips. "I know it's not much to go on,
Sergeant. In fact, it might be nothing at all, but it's the only lead we
have."

Interesting that
he still calls me sergeant
, Jago thought.

He
suspected it was the closest Read would come to granting him the courtesy of a
title. He doubted the Chief Magistrate would ever address him as
"Mister".
Mister
inferred respectability, and Jago suspected that, while James Read was willing
to overlook the more nefarious aspects of his commercial activities in the
interest of quid pro quo, the magistrate wasn't yet prepared to accept
Nathaniel Jago as a fully paid-up member of legitimate society.

"If
you ask me," Jago said grimly, "it sounds like a complete bloody
mess."

Read
nodded, thin lipped. "From all I've heard so far, I'm inclined to agree.
It adds up to a very unpalatable brew, especially if one takes into account the
fate of the two naval lieutenants I told you about: one dead and one
missing."

"So,
what is it you're asking me to do, exactly?" Jago asked, not a little
warily.

Read
steepled his slender fingers.
"I know
you to have knowledge of that part of the country. Certain avenues are open to
you that would be inaccessible to the authorities. I'm hoping you can use your
contacts to discover Officer Hawkwood's whereabouts and perhaps pick up his
trail."

Jago's
eyebrows rose. "You don't want much, do you? You do realize that if it
was
him getting on
that boat, he's probably in France by now? I've got contacts all right, but
they ain't
that
widespread."

"I
take your point, but we cannot be sure that it was him. It's possible that
Hawkwood, along with Lasseur, is still in the locality, in which case it's also
possible that he is in difficulty and unable to send word."

Jago
sighed and then nodded. "All right, suppose I do go looking and I find
him.
Then what?"

Read
lowered his hands. "I'm prepared to leave that to your discretion."

Jago
fixed the Chief Magistrate with a jaundiced eye. "That's mighty trusting
of you. I take it this doesn't mean I'm on the payroll?"

Read
allowed himself a wry smile. "That suggestion was put to me in the light
of your assistance during the William Lee affair. I'm told you found the idea
humorous, as it would represent a considerable drop in your earnings?"

"Aye,
well . . ." Jago shrugged, "just thought I'd ask. You do realize, if
you'd come to me in the first place, you might have been able to save
yourselves a deal of bother."

"In
hindsight, you may well be right," Read conceded. "At the time we
considered that the fewer people who knew of Officer Hawkwood's assignment, the
better. We -"

"What
you're tryin' to say is that you thought there might be a conflict of interest
on account of my occasional dealings with the import trade," Jago said.

"There
was that possibility, yes," Read agreed solemnly.

"But
now that his nibs' assignment has gone tits up, it's because of those dealings
that you'd like me to help you out?"

"In
as much as we have no firm evidence to suppose Officer Hawkwood
is
in extremis,
that is correct."

"Well,
at least you're honest," Jago said. "I'll grant you that. But you've
got a bloody nerve."

There
was a pause.

"So,
you'll do it?" Read said.

Jago
did not reply immediately. He turned and looked out of the window, gazing down
on the dimly lit windows of the street below before raising his eyes to stare
out over the steeply tiled, moon-flecked rooftops.

Finally,
he nodded.

"Of
course I'll bloody do it."

The
gunshot echoed around the stable like a thunderclap, causing the horses to shy
and stomp in fear. The powder smoke dissipated.

"Now,
there's a pity," Morgan said. He stared at the pistol muzzle, which was
aimed at a point over Hawkwood's left shoulder.

Lasseur
lowered the gun. His eyes met Hawkwood's and he gave a wry smile.

Hawkwood
said nothing. The distant booming sound was not an echo from the shot, he
realized, but the pounding of his own heartbeat slowing to a crescendo.

Morgan
held out his hand. "It wasn't loaded anyway, Captain. It was to see what
you'd do with it. You didn't think we'd actually
give
you a loaded
weapon, did you?"

Morgan
looked almost sorrowful as Lasseur, silent and stone- faced, handed over the
pistol.

"Better
the devil you know, eh?" Morgan said. "Though I'd be a liar if I said
I was surprised. It's a damned shame. I had high expectations for you two. Now
I'm three men down." He shook his head. "It'll be interesting to hear
what Captain Lasseur's compatriots say when I give them the news. Maybe I
should let
them
deal with you,
Captain, the same way they do on the hulks. Know how they punish traitors on
the prison ships? It's not pretty. They use needles and gunpowder to tattoo the
words
I betrayed my brothers
on the
forehead. They tell me there's a severe amount of discomfort. Still, let's not
jump the gun." Morgan smiled mirthlessly and turned to Del and his
companion. "Either of them so much as farts - shoot him."

Croker
didn't look happy with that proviso. "Can't we kill them, anyway?"

"Not
yet. We'll find a use for them later. Maybe give the dogs a run if Captain
Lasseur's friends don't care to pass sentence. That'll be after Cephus and I
have a few words with Officer Hawkwood, of course."

"I'd
like to be in on
that,"
Croker said.

"Don't
look so disappointed, Jack, my boy. If you behave yourself, you'll get your
chance.
All in good time.
For now, Thaddeus has just
put clean straw down and it'd be a pity to mess it up. Besides, it'll disturb
the horses and we've spooked them enough as it is. I don't want the mare
panicking and stepping on that foal, not after the trouble I've been
through."

To
Hawkwood, Morgan said, "Gave you a bit of a fright, did we?"

Croker
sneered.
"Smells like he's soiled his breeches."

Hawkwood
shook his head. "Not me. That'll be Del. I've known sweeter-perfumed
middens. I thought you said he wasn't allowed inside?"

Del
wrinkled his nose. "What's he on about?"

"Your
boss thinks you smell," Hawkwood said. He eyed the pistol in Del's hand.
Getting the weapon wouldn't be that hard, but Croker was too eager and Del's
companion looked useful and Hawkwood wasn't prepared to gamble with the odds.
There was Pepper, too, to contend with and Pepper was the unknown quantity. Not
to mention the girl; she'd proved her worth by killing Jilks. Hawkwood wondered
how she'd done it. He recalled the pistols on the sideboard.