by David Liss
“What does Hammond want with him? Does he hope to keep me in line by holding my friend in his clutches?”
“Hammond only discusses his plans with me when he cannot avoid doing so. If you must have answers, I fear you will have to pose those questions to him directly.”
“I assure you,” I said, “I shall do just that.”
“SO,” I BEGAN, “WHO ARE YOU?”
We rode now in her equipage, one fewer with Cobb having been led to his doom at the Tower, safely in the hands of soldiers. Surely there would be pain and torture ahead for him, but Miss Glade showed no sign of distress. She appeared, as always, calm and composed.
“Have you not guessed?”
“Not an agent for the French Crown, as I once supposed, but for the British?” I proposed.
“Just so,” she agreed. “We have been aware for some time of the danger to the East India Company on two fronts. First, the French wished to infiltrate that they might steal secrets and, if possible, do damage. As you have no doubt supposed, we could not permit such a thing to happen. To that end, we have been cooperating with the Indian Mogul, who may be uneasy about British presence but is wise enough to want to keep his country from becoming a battleground of European powers. Thus I was working in at least some degree of concert with Aadil Baghat. I don’t pretend to believe he was entirely forthcoming with me any more than I was with him, but I knew him to be a good man, and I am genuinely grieved to learn of his death. These French are devils who will stop at nothing.” Something like grief passed across her face, but it was gone in an instant.
“You said there were two goals the French wished to accomplish.”
“Yes,” she said. “The second is Mr. Pepper’s engine. If the plans for this device should fall into the wrong hands, it could do great harm to the East India Company. Tea and spices may provide revenue, but it is the textile trade that makes it great. Without that trade, it is but a commercial concern.”
“And what is it now?” Elias asked.
“The new face of empire, of course,” she answered. “Imagine the possibilities. The British Crown may place its stamp, wield its power, see its will done in nations all about the earth, and never have to deploy its military or naval might, never have to convince its own citizens to leave their homes and move to a foreign and inhospitable land. The East India Company has shown us the way with its mercantile conquest. They fund their own expansions, pay for their own armies, establish their own governors. And all the while, British markets expand, British influence grows, and British power swells. Can you truly wonder why we would wish to protect the Company at nearly any cost?”
“So you wish to crush the fruit of British ingenuity in order to promote British empire?” Elias asked.
“Oh, let us not be so uneasy about it, Mr. Gordon. Mr. Pepper is, after all, dead, and he can gain nothing by the promotion of his engine.”
“What of his widow?” I said, immediately regretting the question.
“Which one? Do you think any of those unfortunates would ever see a penny, even if the Pepper engine were to be developed? The rights to the inheritance would be caught up in the courts for years, and the lawyers themselves would contrive to steal every penny of it.”
“If one man might invent it,” I proposed, “might not another?”
“It is possible and may even be inevitable, but it need not be now. The world will not know that such a thing was ever invented, and as possibility is the breeding ground for creativity, no one will think to try to make it anew. If the notion of turning colonial cotton into India-like calico never occurs to anyone, no one will invent it. The task of the Parliament is to keep textiles cheap and easily accessible so that no one needs to go about inventing and altering the system. There are many who believe Parliament made a terrible mistake in the 1721 legislation, and I am one of them. Still, what is done can be undone.”
“Are we not forgetting something?” I asked. “Mr. Pepper was killed—murdered—by the East India Company. I cannot believe it is in the government’s interests to condone such diabolical lawlessness.”
“Mr. Pepper’s fate is unclear,” she answered. “It may not have been the Company that harmed him at all. He had other enemies—his wives, for example—and any one of them might have decided that he had overstayed his welcome. It may be the French killed him in a misplaced effort to obtain his plans. Right now we cannot say which of these possibilities is most likely.”
And there was another possibility, one I dared not speak aloud—that it was not the East India Company but the government itself that had decided it could not risk Pepper’s continued works. “As a thief-taker,” I said, “it may well be worth my while to inquire into the death of Mr. Pepper and discover who brought about his end. If I can bring the murderer to justice, I should receive a handsome bounty from the state, after all.”
“I fear, sir, you will not have time to do that. You will be working for someone else.”
“And who is that?”
“Why, me, of course.” Her grin, open and joyous and confident all at once, nearly unmanned me. “I am hiring you, sir, for the very generous fee of twenty pounds, to perform a few services on behalf of your king.”
I looked away, having no wish to be drawn in by her beauty. “I’ll not be anyone’s puppet. Not any longer. Hammond’s days are quite clearly numbered, and I must believe that his ability to threaten me and my friends must come to an end.”
“The ability to threaten, yes, but there are still the debts. You may depend on a generous government ordering those matters to your satisfaction. And there is another matter, sir. The business of the late election involved you in all manners of mischief. You had a private meeting with this nation’s greatest enemy, a man who would overthrow our government by force. Perhaps you believe that your dealings with the Pretender are unknown to the ministry, but I promise you they are known in the highest circles of Whitehall. By entertaining his conversation and by not reporting his activities, you committed treason—a capital crime, as you must know.”
Elias spoke up before I had the opportunity. “Damme, but you know little of Weaver. If you think to put this gentleman in thrall with your threats to his person, you are far more foolish than I could have supposed.”
She smiled at him—so pretty and knowing. “I make no threats, I promise you.” She turned to me. “There is no threat, for the danger is past. I mention the incident, sir, not to make you uneasy but to tell you of a component of which you have until now been ignorant. After your meeting with the Pretender, your enemies at Whitehall argued that you were too dangerous, the rebels would one day or another win you to their side, and you must be punished as an example. I tell you this not to aggrandize myself, but so you will know I was your benefactor before we even met. I convinced Mr. Walpole, First Lord of the Treasury, whose influence reigns supreme, to leave you be, arguing that a man of your skills and integrity would yet serve his kingdom.”
“You interceded on my behalf?” I asked. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe because I believed this day might come. Maybe because I believed it to be the right thing to do. Maybe because I knew you were no traitor, but a man caught between impossible choices, and though you did not act to harm the Pretender, you did not join with him either.”
I shook my head. “I hardly know how to answer this.”
“You need not, except to listen to my request. Your king calls upon you to serve, Mr. Weaver. Will you do so? I cannot think but that your own sense of rectitude must lead you to join our cause, particularly when you learn what we wish of you.”
“And what is that?”
“We wish you to break into Hammond’s house and liberate your friend, Mr. Franco. It shan’t be too hard, particularly with Cobb gone. They can ill afford to have servants disturbing their affairs, so there are but two men there besides your friend. Liberate him, sir, and in exchange for this service, we shall pay you the twenty-pound bounty mentioned before and return o
rder to the financial mayhem wrought against you and your friends.”
“A munificent offer,” I noted, “particularly since you offer to pay me for what you know I would do willingly.”
“There is, however, one more aspect to your task. Did you not wonder what was so important that Mr. Cobb would abandon his work here and fly to France? We found in his care a book of code which he confessed contained a copy of Pepper’s plans for the calico engine. It has since been destroyed, but we now know that the original and only extant copy of the plans is being held by Mr. Hammond. It is a small calfskin book, containing all manner of diagrams and drawings. It must be under protection in that house. Go rescue your friend, and while you are at it, find the plans and return them to us.”
“Why should I incur such an additional risk?” I asked. “I care only for Franco, and not a jot for the East India Company.”
She smiled. “Even if you were to ignore the debt you owe to your kingdom, I do not believe you would remain content to leave the plans for the engine in the care of those who have harmed your friends. The French are behind all this mischief. They have desired those plans more than anything else in the world, and now they have them. Would it not be sweet to take them away?”
I nodded. “You’re right,” I said. “You know me well enough to understand I can neither ignore the debt I owe you nor endure such a victory on their part. I will get the plans.”
“When you deliver them, you’ll receive your bounty,” she said.
I made no reply, for I knew already that I would have to content myself to doing without twenty pounds. I did not know who deserved the plans, but I already had an inkling of the person to whom I would deliver them. If Miss Glade knew what I planned, I have no doubt she would have done her utmost to stop me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LIAS SAT IN MY FRONT ROOM, HANDILY FINISHING OFF A BOTTLE of port I’d opened only that morning. He was well settled in my most comfortable chair, with his feet up, resting upon the very table I used for most of my meals.
“I’m rather unhappy about all of this,” he told me.
“I don’t doubt it,” I answered. I emerged at that moment wearing dark breeches and a dark shirt to match. I slipped into an equally dark coat—not quite a greatcoat since it was lighter than perhaps the weather demanded and clung more to my form. I could endure the cold, but I could not endure a cumbersome garment that would snag or hold me back.
“I hardly think you would want to go,” I told him. “Not that you would know how to conduct yourself if you did come along. And though you might like the sense of the adventure, you must understand there is always the risk of being caught, and I should very much doubt you would like to be sent off to prison.”
He put his feet back on the floor. “You may have a point,” he admitted, “but there are some rather nasty fellows about. What am I to do with myself until your return?”
“You may wait here if you like.”
“But I’ve finished your port,” he explained urgently.
“I do have more than one bottle.”
“Oh. Then I shall stay.”
IT HAD BEEN BITTERLY cold all day, but surprisingly nightfall brought a slight warming, and though I was dressed with less protection than I would like, I was nevertheless able to endure the chill. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, and an intermittent sprinkling of wet snow dampened my hat and face and turned the filth of the London streets into a slick pool of kennel. Under less pressing circumstances, I might have walked carefully to avoid the streaks of mud and waste and decaying carcasses; that night I cared for nothing but keeping my step and my determination steady.
I silently prayed for luck. The meeting of the Court of Proprietors was the next day, and if I could not free Mr. Franco and take charge of Pepper’s engine plans before that, I did not know if afterward I’d be able to make matters right. In order to accomplish my goals, I would need to gain entrance to the house Cobb and Hammond had used. I had broken into my share of houses in the past, but never a fortress run by French spies. I had to believe that precautions, perhaps even traps, had been laid for intruders, and I should hate to take such chances. I would therefore have to gain the help of those who had already cracked the code.
After turning onto Sparrow Street, I stopped and surveyed the scene about me. Anyone who knew my face would be unlikely to know me at that moment. I leaned against a building, my hat pulled down to hide myself in the shadows; no hard trick when all was shadow. It was not yet ten o’clock, and some light spilled into the streets from windows or from lanterns upon passing coaches, but it was dark, make no mistake. And though the streets were far from deserted, an occasional pedestrian or coachman would prove small deterrent. That, at least, was what I hoped.
I removed from my pocket a purse and dropped it upon the ground, making sure to find an exposed stone with no filth or snow upon it. I hit my mark, and a few pennies spilled out, making the shimmering music upon which I had been depending.
In an instant I was surrounded by more than a dozen dark figures.
“Step away from your purse, you old nitty, unless you want to taste my boot.”
“I’ll step away with all my heart,” I answered, “and all the more so because it’s not my purse but yours. I am giving it to you, after all.” I raised my chin and looked full into the face of the urchin called Crooked Luke.
“Damme,” another one said. “Ain’t that the spark what took that posture-moll Edgar down a notch or two?”
“It’s him,” Crooked Luke said. He eyed me carefully, as though I might be a gift of food from an enemy with a history of using poison. “What’s this then? The clink of coin on stone was meant to draw us out, weren’t it?”
“It was,” I admitted. “I have a desire to speak with you. You may say or do as you like, you may help me or no, but the purse is yours.”
Crooked Luke nodded at one of his fellows, a small child with a running nose who appeared to be no more than seven or eight—but when he grew close, I could see he was older, though stunted in stature. He dashed forward, grabbed the purse, and retreated.
“You want us for something?” Luke said.
“I do. After our first meeting, I inquired of your friend Edgar the manservant why he harbored such dislike for you. He told me that you were housebreakers, that you had a way in and out of the house without getting caught.”
The boys laughed, none more so than Crooked Luke. “He don’t like it,” Luke agreed. “It drives him terrible angry.”
“They are particularly jealous of the security of their house,” I said, in as leading a way as I might.
Luke nodded sagely. “That’s it. We’ve nabbed a thing or two, I won’t deny it, but it’s more the fun of the game. We ain’t never taken too much since they’re always at home, and as like to fire a musket into us as not. But a few raids, savage-Indian-like, is the way, and they ain’t figured our means.”
“I wish to get in,” I said, “and I would know your secret.”
“It’s our secret though, ain’t it?”
“It is, but I have a secret or two myself, and perhaps an exchange might be in order.”
“And what secret is that?”
I smiled, because I knew I had his interest now. “Mr. Cobb is gone. Mr. Hammond will soon be gone. I have no doubt that within a day of Mr. Hammond’s disappearance, the creditors will come in and take charge. If, however, some clever young fellows knew precisely when to strike, they might move through the house taking what they liked with impunity.”
Luke exchanged looks with a couple of his fellows. “You ain’t lying, are you?”
I handed Luke a card. “If I am, come calling upon me. I will give you five pounds if I tell you false. I have come to your aid, young sir, and I hope you won’t abuse my generosity with doubt.”
He nodded. “I know a thing or two about you,” he said. “I ain’t got no cause to think you’d tell me false, and if you’ve made an honest mistake you promi
se to make good, so I can take your bargain.” He turned to look at his companions, who nodded in solemn assent. I did not flatter myself that they nodded in agreement with Luke’s assessment of my character, but with the anticipation of claiming the valuables of so fine a house.
“Now you will show me?” I asked.
“Aye, I will. But I hope you haven’t too much of a fondness for those clothes upon your back, for they won’t be worth much soon.”
A MAN WHO, LIKE MYSELF, has broken out of the most notorious prison in London will hardly wince at the thought of a nail snagging his breeches or some soot staining his sleeve. My greatest fear was that some secret passage sufficient for boys should prove a sad obstacle for a man, but this was not the case. Luke took me to a small house around the corner from where Cobb had lived. I could see at once it was a boardinghouse, clean and respectable—not the sort of place generally open to rascals like my friend Luke.
“Now listen good, sir, for this is our freak, and I’ll not look kind if you ruin it for us. We have made this work for some months now because the man what owns this house ain’t never heard so much as a squeak from us. So you’ll tread careful?”
“You may depend upon it.”
“And for the clearing of the house?”
“By sundown tomorrow,” I said, “if all goes as I anticipate, Mr. Hammond, Edgar, and anyone else associated with that house will be in hiding, afraid to return. Assuming,” I added, “they do not get in my way tonight.”
“What if all don’t go as you anticipate?” Luke asked.
“Then I will make conditions more to my liking. It will only take a word or two whispered about their secret nature to destroy them.”
“You mean their being French spies?” Luke said.
I stared at him. “How could you know?”
“I’ve been in the house, you might remember, and I’ve heard and seen things. I have me letters, you know.”
The boardinghouse had a door leading to the basement. I should have been able to pick the lock, but it was old and easily manipulated, and I let Luke work it for me as a means of showing I respected his command of the terrain. With that, Luke gave me surprisingly clear and concise directions. Once it was open, he bid me farewell, and the boys fled.
