Rapscallion (53 page)

"Captain
Lasseur tells me I've you to thank for helping me up the stairs."
Self-consciously, Hawkwood drew a hand across his jaw. He thought about the
razor the woman had given Lasseur. It was back in the cell at the Haunt.
Lasseur's facial hair also needed a trim, but because he already had a goatee,
it seemed to suit his face.

Gadd
shrugged. "Aye, well, you were there to help Jessie when she was in
trouble. Reckoned I owed you.
Besides, digging a grave's too
much like hard work.
And Morgan's still after your blood, by the
way."

"Tell
us something we don't know," Hawkwood said.

"He's
upped the bounty.
That good enough for you?"
Gadd
reached inside the bag and brought out two rabbits. He went to the open pantry
door and suspended the game from a hook in one of the beams. He propped the gun
against the wall by the door. Behind his back, the dog's nose continued to
twitch.

"I'm
flattered," Lasseur said.

"You
should be," Gadd responded. "It's a tidy sum. McTurk and Croker were
two of his best men. Plus there was young Del. Morgan
don't
take kindly to someone removing three of his crew. Word's spreading that he's
willing to pay over the odds for information, which means people'll be on the
lookout. You're safe here for a while, but there's no telling for how
long." Gadd nodded towards Hawkwood. "And you, Captain, or Constable
or whatever it is they call you, are a long way from home."

"Funny,"
Hawkwood said. "That's what people told me when they thought I was an
American."

"Aye,
well," Gadd said morosely. "Just so's you know."

"The
captain was not solely responsible," Lasseur said.

The
privateer glanced towards Jess Flynn as he spoke and Hawkwood saw a look pass
between them. He wondered how much Lasseur had told her. She didn't look
shocked by the admission.

"That's
as maybe," Gadd said. "Not that it matters. Morgan wants the two of
you found. And he wants you dead.
Probably planning to do it
himself.
Rumour has it that he likes to keep his hand in. He thought
you'd try for a boat, so he's got his people making enquiries along the coast.
He's got 'em watching the roads, too. I haven't seen this much activity since
the army thought Boney was going to invade back in '04. Word is
,
he can't believe you've lasted these past two days without
being seen. You'd've thought..." The seaman's voice trailed
off,
rendered mute by the look on Hawkwood's face.

Lasseur's
head lifted.

Hawkwood
stared at the old seaman. "
How
long did you
say?"

"How
long, what?"
Gadd said.

"How
long did you say we've been here?" Hawkwood stood up.

Gadd
looked at Jess Flynn, whose hands, dusted with flour, had stilled at the
coldness in Hawkwood's tone.

"Since
the day before yesterday.
The captain
brought you by boat. Jessie and I thought he was too late. You were in a bad
way, all covered in mud.
Looked like you weren't breathing.
Had the devil of a job lugging you up the stairs.
Captain and
me
had to peel your clothes off, they were
that damp. You smelled something rotten, too." Gadd paused. "Why're
you asking?"

Hawkwood
stared down at Lasseur as the significance of Gadd's words struck home.
"You told me we'd only been here a day. We've been here two days. That
means the robbery's not due tomorrow;
it's
tonight!"

It
hit him then, like a hammer blow to the ribs.

"My
God, you
want
them to go
ahead!" Suddenly everything had become clear. "That's it, isn't it?
You actually want Morgan to go through with it!"

At
first the privateer did not respond. Finally, he spread his hands in an
admission of defeat. "You have me." He gave Hawkwood a look of wry
contrition. "What can I say? I knew you'd discover my ruse eventually.
Though I had hoped it would take you a little while longer." His eyebrows
lifted as he met Hawkwood's gaze. "You look shocked, my friend. But what
would you do if the situation was reversed and you had the chance to relieve
your enemy of the means to feed and equip his army? Would you take it? I think
we both know the answer to that. I'm a patriot, Matthew, and for that I make no
apology. I told you I looked upon you as my friend, but I love France. And
France
needs
that
gold."

"Gold?"
Gadd said. "What bloody gold?"

"You're
siding with Morgan?" Hawkwood said, ignoring Gadd's look of confusion.
"You'd do that,
knowing
he sent his men after us? Two of your own
countrymen
tried to kill you! How does that fit in with your definition of
patriotism?"

"Jessie?"
Gadd said. "Do you know what they're on about?"

Jess
Flynn stood still, her eyes flicking between the two men. She was obviously as
bewildered as Gadd by the sudden turn of events.

Lasseur
shook his head. "I'm not the one who's important. It's for the greater
good."

"That's
why you were so concerned for my health," Hawkwood said. "And why you
were persuading me to stay put. If Morgan does go ahead with the raid tonight,
you knew any message sent from Barham in the morning would be too damned
late."

He
pushed the chair back angrily, his eyes moving to the open door. Sunset was a
little over two hours away. There was still time to get to the telegraph
station at Barham and use the shutters to send a warning to the authorities at
Deal and the Admiralty before darkness rendered the system impotent.

But
would Morgan be making his play tonight? Would he take a chance, knowing that
his quarry was still free? Hawkwood knew he couldn't take the risk that Morgan
wouldn't go through with his plan.

He
spun towards Jess Flynn who was still staring at them both as if mesmerized.
"I need a horse, Jess!
Now!"

"Would
somebody mind tellin' the rest of us what the bloody hell's going on?" Gadd
implored. "What's all this talk about gold?"

"Morgan's
planning to attack the Admiral's residency at Deal and steal the army's pay
chests," Hawkwood said. "Then he's going to sell the gold to the
French. It's possible he's going to do it tonight. Captain Lasseur here would
like to see him get away with it. I'd like to stop him."

"Bloody
hell!"
Gadd took a step backwards.

Hawkwood
turned to Lasseur. "What now, Captain? Is this where you try and stop
me?
"

Lasseur
smiled sadly. "I did not think it would come to this, my friend."

"Me
neither," Hawkwood admitted truthfully.

Lasseur
started to rise from the table. "I am sorry, Matthew."

"No!"
Jess Flynn cried.

Hawkwood
tensed; thought about the knife in his boot and how quickly he could reach it.

"Best
stay where you are, Cap'n. I'd hate to have to shoot you."

"Tom!"
Jess Flynn said urgently.

Hawkwood
looked around. Gadd had retrieved the fowling piece. The muzzle was pointed at
Lasseur's chest. Tom Gadd's finger was curled around the trigger.

"It's
loaded, Cap'n, in case you were wondering. I keep it that way on account of I
always need game for the pot and you never know when something's going to
come
flying up out of the barley. So before you try anything
stupid, you can rest assured there's no way you can move your body from behind
that table faster than I can squeeze this trigger."

Lasseur
showed his palms and lowered himself into his seat, the half smile still
hovering on his face.

"That's
the way," Gadd said. "Make yourself comfortable while the rest of us
try and figure things out. Army pay chests, you say?"

"For
Wellington's troops in Spain," Hawkwood said.

"And
Morgan plans to give 'em to Bonaparte?"

"No,
he plans to sell them to him."

Gadd
sucked on a tooth. "Can't say as I like the sound of giving Old Nosey's
gold to the French. I've smuggled a few guineas in my time, but we never stole
'em from our own lads. Seems to me you've got to draw the line somewhere. And
if Morgan's fingers are in the pie, you'd have to be bloody stupid not to know
he's featherin' his own nest at the same time. Heard you mention Barham.
You talking
about the telegraph?"

"That's
right."

Gadd
drew himself up. "Best get going then. You leave
now,
you'll still make it before dark.
There's
two horses
in the barn. Take the mare. She's the quicker. The cob's more used to pulling a
cart. You want the Dover Road; take the track through the bottom wood till you
reach the church, then turn south. That'll take you all the way to Barham
Downs. You'll see the shutter station on top of the hill.
Can't
bloody miss it.
We'll keep the captain here while you're gone. Maybe
enjoy some of Jessie's cooking and a wet at the same time.
That
sit
all right with you, Jessie?" Before she had time to reply, Gadd
turned.
"You still here,
Constable
?
Best
get your finger out. Time's a wasting."

Hawkwood
looked back at Lasseur. "Safe journey, Captain," Lasseur said, making
it sound almost as though he meant it.

Hawkwood
left the kitchen at a run.

And
saw the flash at the top of the slope as he turned towards the barn.

Too damned late,
he thought,
knowing that it had to be the sun glancing off a spyglass lens. He'd
experienced the phenomenon too many times for it to be anything else.

Reacting
instinctively, he was already ducking back into the house as the first of the
horsemen
broke silently from the edge of the trees above
him.

Then
the dog began to bark.

Pepper
had been watching the farmhouse for a good fifteen minutes before there was any
noticeable sign of movement. Letting the reins of his horse hang loose, he
raised the telescope to his right eye.

A
slight figure was making its way to the back door. Pepper recognized Thomas
Gadd. There was no mistaking that limping gait. He wondered what was in the
sack. It was bulging, so there was something wrapped within its folds.
Game of some description, most likely.
Pepper could see the
gun in Gadd's hand.

He
saw the dog get to its feet. Its tail began to wag and he watched as Gadd ruffled
the animal's fur and led it into the house. The dog had been Pepper's main
concern. He'd remembered it wasn't in the first flush of youth, but that didn't
mean its sense of smell wasn't acute. Pepper and his men had taken pains to
conceal themselves downwind, but breezes were fickle. They could change
direction at any moment.

"What
are we waiting for?" Seth Tyler spat into the dirt and fingered the butt
of the pistol in his belt. "Are we going down there or not?"

"We
go when I say we go," Pepper said, without moving the glass from his eye.

Tyler
flushed at the put-down, made more potent by Pepper not even bothering to lower
the telescope, but he knew better than to answer back.

The
wounds on Tyler's face still pained him. Some of the shallower cuts had turned
into scabs; the deeper ones remained tender and sore to the touch. Tyler's
explanation that he'd sustained the scratches after falling into a patch of
briars on his way back from the Duke's Head had been generally accepted, given
his reputation as a man who liked a drink. He'd used the same story with
Ezekiel Morgan and Cephus Pepper when he'd gone to pass on information about
the two men Morgan was looking for.

Tyler's
rage had been simmering since the day he'd been run off the farm, and his bitch
of a sister-in-law had threatened to take the gun to him if he set foot on her
land again. Who did she think she was? Leading him on with her sly glances and
then turning all coy when he made his move. She wanted him; he knew she did.
And she'd have to be craving it; her husband in the ground these past three
years. The way Tyler saw
it,
he was doing her a
favour. She ought to be bloody grateful. Instead, she'd come on all contrary
and rejected him. And it was probably her doing that Annie had started acting
up every time he tried to get
her
interested. He suspected Jessie was trying to turn her sister against him, and
the thought of that made Tyler angrier still. She'd pay for all the trouble
she'd caused him; he'd see to that.