by Mark Keating
They climbed a cramped stair to a simple door and a wood-panelled windowless room. More faces and cards met them, two men this time, and there were more disparaging looks as Devlin came in with his hat on. Walpole wasted no time shaking hands. ‘Gentlemen. I give you our saviour. Captain Patrick Devlin. Our pirate.’
Only one stood and offered his hand. Almost fifty Devlin guessed, tall and handsome but a closer look under the sanguineous light of the chandelier showed a pock-marked face, souvenir of a sickly youth.
‘Captain,’ a deep Edinburgh timbre rolled forth. ‘John Law. You are welcome at our table, sir. A drink?’ And he went to the wine without answer. Devlin liked him at once. Walpole and the prince had not offered a drink.
The other had the same appointed look of Albany Holmes: thirty years of privilege in waistcoat and silk hose, an unpleasant smell under his nose always. His importance was measured in how much his arse remained seated. Walpole took the honours.
‘May I introduce Lord Londonderry – although do not suppose that he has ever been there – Thomas Pitt the younger. It was his brother, Robert, who smuggled the diamond from India to England in the heel of his boot.’
The Lord spoke from his chair. ‘Well met, pirate. Or ill met. Depending.’ He flashed an eight of diamonds at Devlin. ‘Law is teaching me how to cheat at cards,’ he was already half-drunk despite the clock. ‘He owes me money, I am glad to say. Or more money, rather.’
The diamond had been paid for in instalments. Although reduced in price France had still found it beyond the means of easy purchase.
Law turned his head back to the table. ‘We will settle that, Thomas. That is why we are here.’
Pitt went for his glass. ‘I am only observing on my father’s behalf, John.’ He saluted Devlin. ‘He is governor of Jamaica don’t you know.’
‘Morgan was governor of Jamaica,’ Devlin said. ‘He was a pirate.’
Pitt put down his glass and corrected grimly. ‘Ah. I think you’ll find that should be: “He was a pirate, Sir.” Lord Londonderry, if you please.’
Devlin moved to the edge of the table. ‘Where is Londonderry? Sir?’
Pitt looked to a frowning Walpole and went back to his glass without looking at the pirate at his quarter.
‘Buggered if I know!’ He waved his glass around the table. ‘Sit down all of you. Let’s get this over.’ He kicked a chair out for the pirate. Devlin pulled it away and sat with his back to the wall, all of them in front of him, none beside him. Law passed him a glass of wine and took his seat with Walpole.
Devlin gulped and wiped his lip. A mouldy tasting wine, black and strong like coffee and chocolate. These men could drink. ‘Tell me what I need to know.’
The world had gone mad. After the war, the Spanish war, when the Americas had come to be divided, companies had become a feverish commodity. Most feverish of all were those investing in the colonies, for America was a golden teat. The New World had made Spain great and now it was defeated everyone could suckle; its sweetest milk was the asiento, the settlement that granted England the right to buy and transport slaves to the Spanish colonies and their own. Thus the Royal African and South Sea companies became the new gods of the New World.
In a few short years London, Amsterdam and Paris had become the triad of a world written down and noted, no longer drawn on paper by the hard experiences of explorers and adventurers. They had already found all they needed.
Iron and cloth, dyes, spices and wood. That was the Old World. Now it was coffee, tea, sugar, gold and diamonds. And flesh was needed to work it all. Flesh most of all.
Gresham had built the Royal Exchange for Queen Elizabeth on the model of the Amsterdam beurs but it was in Garraway’s and Jonathan’s coffee houses that the financial floor really moved.
Thomas Pitt the younger and John Law exemplified this revolving floor. Gamblers by nature, their thumb-prints almost worn away by cards, their methods were built on the invisibility of paper and the cards that a man didn’t see.
‘Captain Devlin,’ Walpole’s voice was grave. ‘His Majesty’s government needs the diamond returned to England. It will save lives if you would but believe it, and even if you do not care for that sentiment then understand that I do. But I will not lie.’
‘Meaning?’ Devlin leaned back.
‘The Company will collapse without security, without bond, for its paper is worthless. I sold my shares, as did Lord Londonderry, as did Law, and I removed the prince from their board. We took advantage of those who did not know better. But this is for the greater good. I hope Stanhope made that clear.’
Pitt raised his glass, ‘My brother-in-law!’
‘As Townshend is your brother-in-law, Minister?’ Devlin noted.
Walpole’s face never moved. ‘No doubt you believe us all incestuous, Captain. But do not consider that I would save my own hide to see my country fall.’
‘If you say so,’ Devlin said, half believing. ‘Spell this out for me.’
Walpole addressed John Law. ‘Mister Law? I will speak candidly. Do not take offence.’
Law waved away the instruction. ‘Let this man hear. It is all written. The smut on my face is long known.’
‘Very well,’ Walpole pulled himself closer to the table, the edge of it pressing into his paunch. Law and Pitt went to their wine.
‘The South Sea owns the exclusivity of transporting slaves and goods to the Spanish colonies. The Royal African maintains the forts and the factors. The South has no such overheads. It has the royal warrant yet is barely a decade old. It has purchased the nation’s war debts.’ He splayed his fingers like a firework exploding. ‘But it has nothing. Nothing but the paper. It is all an illusion. And if that becomes known the stock will plummet, the millions will want to salvage what they have invested and the Company cannot pay. It is an unstoppable beast.’ He put his palms to the table. ‘Judge as you will – if you carry such sentiment – but this place is where fortunes are made on intelligence and the future. And often in whispers.’ He took Devlin’s arm. ‘Come. Let me show you.’
Walpole led him to a wall. He slid aside a narrow panel just wide enough for both their faces and looked down through a latticed grill to the throng downstairs.
‘When you came in you saw gentlemen at leisure. An afternoon of coffee and tobacco, horses and hearths. Look closer.’ He reeled away from the smell of caked blood and ship that came from Devlin’s hair and gave him room.
Below, Devlin saw the same scene as when he entered, only from this vantage he could appreciate its intricacies, as ballets are enjoyed more from the gallery than the stalls.
It was not a crowd but groups of hats in small parties whirling between each other with paper and pens, sealing wax and newspapers. Devlin saw players at the few tables writing on playing cards, tearing them in half or clipping their corners. He looked at Walpole.
‘Yes. Even gaming cards. Some for hundreds of pounds for companies that do not even have names or a business to trade. To protect their secrets of course. In just the few moments you have been watching you have witnessed tens of thousands changing hands. It is doubly encouraged because they have seen Londonderry enter and myself later. If they knew Law was here they would tear down the walls. This vent I had constructed to keep an eye on the worst. We used to buy and sell real things. Now we sell the future. We deal in promises.’
‘This is madness.’ Yet Devlin could not turn away. The room seemed to revolve faster and faster, for the white coats and black hats all looked the same – like a field of black-faced sheep – and it seemed a giant was turning a handle somewhere on this carousel.
John Law called over, snapping Devlin back to reality. ‘It is worse in Paris, Captain. You will see it soon. Are you not going to tell him of my shame, Walpole?’
Pitt grinned over his glass. ‘Pride, surely, John?’
Some Scottish mumble was drowned by wine.
Walpole shut the vent. ‘Mister Law is a financier and gambler, Captain. He is head of
the Bank of France. That fact seems more incredible to me each time I say it.’ They rejoined the table although Devlin chose to stand. Walpole did not mind. ‘He is here in secret like yourself.’
Pitt began to sway. ‘He is pretending to bring wine for my father’s cellars after his final instalment for the diamond carried no weight.’
Law mumbled some more. ‘Ten thousand pounds of wine is no pretence.’
Devlin understood nothing. There was the sense of strained friendship across the table between the Englishman and the Scotsman. They had clearly known each other for years. Their mockery and flippancy appeared just banter. Devlin lived on a ship. He spent his whole life cramped with others. It was easier to hide a horse on a ship than animus.
Walpole explained his wish to offer no offence to John Law.
Law was a wanted man. A quarter of a century earlier he had duelled and killed a love-rival and the family of the victim had demanded his neck. Law escaped before sentence and fled to France, as Devlin had done, only Law did not settle amongst the fishermen of St Malo like Patrick Devlin. Gamblers and drinkers make friends easily, but sober successful gamblers make the right friends.
He had met Philippe, the regent of France, ten years before, over the gaming tables of Venice and when Philippe was only a duke. Now after Louis’s death, Philippe ruled France until the boy king reached majority. Then John Law came looking for a job.
Devlin now shared wine with one of the most powerful men in Europe but one who still had a noose waiting for him in London. That made him Walpole’s whore as much as Devlin and Devlin appraised him as such.
Law, or Monsieur Lass as the populace had graced him – unable to wrap their tongues around his name – had become a Midas of his own making.
Like the South Sea Company’s speculation in Change Alley, the hurricane of paper blowing in the Rue de Quincampoix in Paris flayed men’s senses like a whip.
When the regent granted the Compagnie des Indes, Law’s Mississippi company, all trade from China, the south seas and their American lands, the flurry of arms waving their money above their heads or climbing over duchesses’ backs to grab a piece almost brought Paris to its knees: it seemed that nobody did anything but trade paper.
It was said that when the streets and offices were filled with writing desks a hunchback made a lively trade renting out his back for people to sign their shares.
Law had caught the tide at the flood and convinced the regent to allow him to open a bank and issue paper money to parry alongside the ridiculous coinage that had almost become valueless. It had worked for England and Holland and it would work for France. The scheme was as brilliant and flawless as the diamond that now ruled his future, the diamond that he had brokered for Pitt and the duke. Plutus would have been proud.
Law swirled his wine. ‘I had hopes, drunken arguments with Londonderry, that I could break the East India Company, that France was the ruler of the world. If I could break the East India, bring down the South Sea Company, mine would be the most powerful on earth.’
Devlin poured his own wine, still standing. ‘Then you have succeeded.’ He looked to Walpole for confidence. ‘Or do I not understand?’
Law laughed. ‘It is done. My company falls as well. The Banque Royale will fall also. I need to run.’ He chimed his glass against Devlin’s. ‘I am your partner. You are working for your freedom and so am I. If I betray my adopted country for this diamond, England will grant me a pardon.’ He drank like it was the last glass in the world. ‘I have destroyed France and France has destroyed itself.’
Walpole coughed for Devlin’s attention. ‘There is too much invested in these things. Too much of our money in promise. Too much greed for short gain by men has built a house of cards. But if the South Sea Company could stand – just past this year – we could make it better. If it falls, faith will fall. The companies are all knots in the same rope. The diamond would stem the tide. Show that the Company has promise. No-one will see the empty ships. They will be dazzled as you were. Hold your faith in diamonds and gold, Captain, the fruits of the earth, as the world always has when houses fall.’
Devlin began to pace. He felt the game rising within him.
‘You wish me to exchange your replica for the real. How did you acquire it?’
‘Stanhope is married to my lovely sister Lucy,’ Pitt drawled. ‘It was a wedding gift.’
‘Fair enough. You believe it valid? It will fool?’
Law now. ‘I only ever saw the replica when Londonderry brought it to France, as did the regent. We are not fools but knew no better.’
‘But the jeweller will know?’
‘Tested it would fail. But the lapidary will be handed the greatest diamond in the world by his ruler. What would you question?’
‘Everything. That’s why I’m still alive. What is your plan?’
Walpole took a breath. ‘Law has concluded his business on the regent’s behalf. The wine for the instalment that did not clear was an effective ruse. He is the one who knows Paris, where you will attend.’ He wiped his face with his hand. ‘Your map, Law.’
The map came out from a leather-bound packet, a grey linen masterpiece. It cracked as Law unfolded it, a beautiful gentle sound like the stretching of a bird’s wing. France was drawn across it. Law placed his finger to Calais and dragged down an inch and Devlin finally sat to take in the map. Maps were his world. Whatever riddles these men spoke the map at least was his work.
‘This is Sangatte, Captain. I have procured a fisherman’s cottage there. The regent knows I am here to furnish wine for Pitt’s cellars, after which I am to spend some time at my home in Peuplingue. We cannot travel together. Both of us do not exist past this night. You will meet me at Sangatte and travel back with me to Paris as my aide. Je comprends votre Français est bon?’
They all looked at him expectantly. Devlin could not resist a playful pause. ‘Oui,’ he said at last. ‘But I do not look like an aide.’
‘No,’ Law agreed. He took in the lithe form, the dark skin accustomed to the sun, the mess of hair and bruised face. ‘No, you do not. You look as much like an aide as a lamp looks like lightning. But perhaps that is only your dress and you could change your manner I’m sure.’
Walpole jumped in. ‘This is important, Captain. Law can get you into the palace but they have no need for scarecrows.’
Pitt rapped the table. ‘You may make a good valet. You are Irish are you not? I am starting my own company in the Bahamas now Woodes Rogers has scraped you from it. Perhaps you could help. I’m sure you remember how to use a shovel.’ He laughed into his glass.
He stopped laughing at the small click under the table and Devlin’s grin.
A tapping of metal upon the table’s underside from Devlin’s arm and Pitt knew what was pointing at his groin; could almost see it. He put down his glass.
Devlin dropped his smile. ‘I know all sorts of tools. And I don’t think I need to know you to get this deed done.’
Pitt’s lips went white. ‘You cannot threaten me, sir. I am a peer of His Majesty. You would not live another day.’
Walpole lay a hand on each of their arms. ‘Captain, put away your pistol. Lord Londonderry, Devlin pointed his pistol at His Highness less than an hour ago so I would be quiet if I were you. Let Law carry on.’
Devlin stood, his chair flying back. ‘No. I’ll carry on. Where is this stone kept?’
The lower half of the map had stitched pockets hiding detailed, smaller ones. Law pulled the one for Paris and laid it across the other.
‘I reside at the Palais Royale with the regent. The boy king is at the Tuileries. Phillippe, the duke, keeps the diamond either about his person or hidden. I have seen it when I am in company with him but have never seen it placed or removed anywhere. It could be in his breeches for all I know, and I am his friend.’
‘This is the Tuileries palace,’ he indicated an enormous building at the head of a long garden along the west bank of the Seine. ‘If you follow north
you will see that it connects to the Louvre palace.’ His finger drew their eyes along then swiftly he dragged it to another grand square. ‘This is the Palais Royale. Where the duke is, where I am, and where the diamond hides. If you keep this triangle of buildings in your mind you can navigate between them with ease, run between them in minutes,’ he traced the triangle for them. ‘Keep in mind that a hundred soldiers can do the same and close them off in minutes.’ He looked at Devlin carefully. There was only focus on the pirate’s face; no flinching at the word of soldiers. Law took a breath.
‘As I do not know where the duke keeps the diamond it will be impossible to steal it from the Palais Royale – notwithstanding the fact that it is one of the most heavily guarded buildings in Paris – which is why we shall make the exchange when the diamond reaches Ronde, the lapidary who will work on the crown. His place is on the Rue du Richelieu here,’ his finger stabbed the map west of the Palais Royale. ‘That will be our mark for the exchange.’
He held out the map to Devlin. ‘We shall go to the Palais Royale and wait for the diamond to be taken to Ronde. Then we will break into the lapidary before work on the diamond begins and exchange it for the replica.’ Law drained his glass. ‘And that will be all we will have to do.’
Devlin took the smaller map, scrutinised it as he began to pace again. He tapped at his sword as he took in the streets between the palaces. He stopped and turned.
‘And the duke would not suspect me being brought into the palace with you?’
Law considered this. ‘I have many aides and stewards. I’m sure it would not matter.’
Devlin resumed his walk around the room, then slapped the map back to the table. He had memorised what he needed.
Law carried on. ‘Without knowing where Philippe hides the gem I do not see any other recourse than to take it once it leaves the safety of the palace. At least then we would know when it leaves and where it is. I am privy to that much, I’m sure. It would certainly be safer than robbing one of the most guarded places on earth, Captain.’
