The Hunt for the North Star

by The Hunt for the North Star (retail) (epub)

  There was a little pause. The fire popped again. Across the room, Kramer had begun to play once more; the rest of the guests sat or stood around him, listening intently. ‘John Robinson tells me you are working with him,’ Selby said quietly.

  ‘Yes,’ said MacLea. ‘And I assume you know why.’

  ‘I know about Polaris, of course. I sit on the Executive Council, which advises the lieutenant governor on all matters, including security. Polaris is one of several American spies we believe to be operating in Upper Canada, but because of his position and access to power, he is the most dangerous.’

  MacLea wondered where this conversation was going.

  ‘I also believe that we may have a double agent in our midst,’ the old man said. ‘Someone who is playing the two sides off against each other, passing information to both ourselves and the Americans. What do you think, Captain MacLea? Do you know of anyone who might fit the bill?’

  MacLea took his time before he answered. ‘No,’ he said, ‘but thank you for the warning. I shall keep my eyes and ears open.’

  ‘Do so.’ Selby smiled a little. ‘It would be ironic, would it not, if it turned out that Polaris himself was the double agent, spying on the Americans for us as well as vice versa? Dealing with him would be more than a little awkward, would it not?’

  * * *

  Kramer finished playing, to more applause. ‘I fear I must retire,’ said Selby, rising. ‘Thank you, Mr Kramer, for the gift of your music. Good night to you all, and I wish you once again a very happy Christmas.’

  His daughter came and kissed him on the cheek, and then escorted the old man upstairs. MacLea turned to see Julius Kramer standing beside him. ‘What a very fine gentleman he is,’ the Austrian said. ‘It saddens the heart to see him so ill. His daughter will miss him very much, I think.’

  ‘Fortunately, she is about to marry,’ MacLea said. ‘At least she will not have to grieve for him alone.’

  ‘I know. I have been engaged to play at the wedding.’ Kramer smiled. ‘For such a small town, there is much society here in York. I am enjoying myself more than I thought I would.’

  ‘Why did you choose to come here?’ MacLea asked. ‘Why not stay in Montreal?’

  ‘I desired a change,’ Kramer said, still smiling. ‘I find that I like Upper Canada. The lakes, the forests, these are most appealing to me. And I admire the people, too, standing up bravely and fighting for their freedom against the might of the United States. The men are honest and true, and the women are most attractive.’ His eyes rested for a moment on Charlotte Lawrence, who was talking with Alec Murray. ‘And available,’ he added.

  MacLea’s eyebrows rose. ‘Do you find them so?’

  Kramer chuckled. ‘Music is a powerful magnet, Captain. Women are drawn to the men who make it. But then courage too is a great aphrodisiac. I do not imagine that a man of your reputation lacks for admirers. I saw Mrs Lawrence approach you, and I also noticed the fair Madame Lafitte looking at you several times this evening. You could have both of them.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps even together, if you played your cards right,’ he said.

  ‘Mrs Lawrence I leave to you,’ MacLea said abruptly. ‘Madame Lafitte I barely know. Now if you will excuse me, sir, I need to speak to Mr Boydell.’

  Boydell was examining one of the many oil paintings in the candlelight. ‘What can I do for you, old fellow?’ he asked, smiling at MacLea.

  ‘Nothing,’ said MacLea. ‘I just needed to get away from Kramer.’

  Boydell grimaced. ‘I know what you mean. He is a talented artiste, one of the best players I have ever heard, but he is also one of the most vulgar men I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I don’t know why Patience puts up with him.’

  ‘I shouldn’t leave him alone with your wife.’

  ‘Oh, Patience can take care of herself.’

  Elizabeth Selby returned to the room, smiling at both men, and they bowed to her. ‘How is your father, my dear?’ asked Boydell.

  ‘Resting comfortably,’ she said. ‘Captain MacLea, he desires to see you for a moment, if you are agreeable?’

  ‘Of course,’ said MacLea, puzzled. Wondering what else Selby could want from him, he followed the girl out of the drawing room and then, to his further surprise, past the foot of the stairs and towards the rear of the house. Opening a door, she ushered him into the library.

  ‘I will keep watch outside,’ she said, and closed the door behind him.

  Inside, standing beside the fireplace in her russet gown, was Josephine.

  * * *

  He did not remember crossing the floor towards her, but suddenly he was holding her close, her lips reaching up for his. Her kisses dazzled him, filling his mind with bright light, and he could feel her trembling. After a long moment they broke apart and stood staring at each other, breathing deeply. She opened her mouth to speak, searching for words in the tumult of her mind, but stopped as he laid a gentle finger on her lips.

  ‘You don’t need to say anything,’ he said softly. ‘When I look into your eyes, I see the mirror of my soul.’

  She gave a little gasp, but then steadied herself. ‘We do not have much time,’ she said. ‘You are surprised to see me here.’

  ‘I am. What happened?’

  ‘The day after I saw you in Niagara, I received fresh orders. I am sorry, John, but I did not dare write to you.’

  ‘Even if you had, the letter would not have reached me,’ said MacLea. ‘I went from Chippawa up to the Grand River, and then came directly here. How do you come to be staying with the Selbys?’

  ‘By chance. William Derenzy brought me his watch to be cleaned, and in the course of the conversation I mentioned I was about to leave for York. He learned that I did not know anyone here, and he gave me a letter of introduction to his fiancée. When I arrived, she and her father insisted at once that I stay with them. They are, as you have seen, the soul of hospitality.’

  ‘What were your orders from Beauregard?’

  ‘I am to collect information about the defences of Kingston. John, I was right about Wilson’s revolt being a gambit to force us to send troops to Niagara and weaken our other posts. I think the real blow will fall on Kingston, but I do not yet know when.’

  MacLea nodded. Mahlon Burwell had come to much the same conclusion. ‘Why did Beauregard send you here? Why not to Kingston itself?’

  ‘My assumption is that he already has a spy in Kingston. The reports I send will be used to check the quality of the information this other spy is supplying. That is how he operates: he gathers two or three reports from different sources, and compares them to see who is telling the truth.’

  ‘And are you telling him the truth?’

  ‘About Kingston? No. I am telling him that the gambit has failed; that the British know an attack is coming and have strengthened the garrison, and more reinforcements are on the way.’

  MacLea stared at her. ‘What reinforcements?’

  She smiled a little. ‘Purely fictitious ones. I have greatly exaggerated the strength of the 8th Foot and invented a number of imaginary cannon. I have also suggested that the 104th Foot are about to arrive in Montreal and will move straight to Upper Canada. They are, of course, still on their way from New Brunswick. In reality, the defences of Kingston are weak. A wooden blockhouse, a single battery, a few hundred men; nothing more.’

  ‘My God, Josephine! When Beauregard finds out you have lied to him, he will kill you!’

  ‘He won’t find out. He will trust the information I send him, you see. Along with the lies, I shall also tell him a great deal of truth to corroborate my story. For example, I shall tomorrow send him the full details of Colonel Lawrence’s proposed attack on Sackett’s Harbor. His other spies will have passed on the rumours too, of course, but this will make my story seem more convincing.’

  MacLea watched her for a moment, studying her face. ‘You are taking one hell of a risk.’

  ‘A necessary risk,’ she said. ‘I need to prove my bona fides, J
ohn. And there is always hope that when the Americans begin to reinforce Sackett’s Harbor, Colonel Lawrence will abandon his scheme. Major Givins is right. The plan is madness. Any attempt to attack Sackett’s Harbor is doomed.’

  Especially now that you have told the Americans he is coming. If Lawrence does not abandon his plan, then he and his men will be walking into a trap. Hundreds of men could die.

  There was no need to say this out loud; she knew it as well as he did. Instead he said, ‘How much have you told Givins?’

  ‘Only that my orders have changed.’

  ‘And he is still happy to pay you?’

  ‘I am not sure that happy is the word, but he continues to do so.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why,’ MacLea said.

  ‘Neither do I. Hopefully, whatever game the Americans are running will reveal itself in time. Meanwhile, I need to do two things. First, I want to trace this agent in Kingston. I have an idea of how I might do so, but I need to test it. What about you? Are you any closer to Polaris?’

  ‘I am interested in Caleb Street and John Fanning. Can you help?’

  ‘I know very little about either of them, but I will do what I can.’

  MacLea nodded. ‘Fanning also has connections with the Mohawks. Josephine, we were wrong about one thing. The letter we found on Wilson may have been a dummy, but he really did intend to start a revolt. He tried to persuade Catherine Brant and her people on the Grand River to join him.’

  Her eyes opened wide at this. ‘Did they agree?’

  ‘She says not, but I don’t yet know if I believe her. She did however tell me that Polaris is a member of the Legislative Assembly, and that he is here in York.’

  ‘Then she has decided to help you,’ said Josephine.

  ‘Yes, but to what end, I don’t know. There is another game being played, I am sure of it. I think that woman who is here tonight, Rebecca Morningstar, is Catherine Brant’s agent. She knows Fanning; they talked together for a long time that evening at Jordan’s. Find out what you can about her too, but for God’s sake be careful.’

  She nodded. ‘You also.’

  They stared at each other, and then he took a long step forward and swept her into his arms again. The kiss that followed was as desperate as it was passionate. ‘You know you have my heart in your keeping,’ he murmured.

  ‘I know,’ she said, and closed her eyes. ‘And you know that all the hope I have in life rests with you.’

  Winter Games

  Chapter Thirteen

  Josephine did not know who the American agent in Kingston might be, but she was determined to find him.

  Her scheme for doing so rested on three assumptions, any one of which could be wrong. The letter she had received before Christmas had sparked her suspicions. First, it had arrived much more quickly than expected. She had assumed Beauregard would be at army headquarters in Albany, in upper New York, and that it would take at least two weeks for the letter to reach him there and two more before he could send back new instructions. Instead, he had replied within a week. That meant he was somewhere nearby, possibly as close as the Niagara frontier. Or perhaps he had even come over the border and was directing operations from a base inside Canada.

  She was more certain about her second assumption. Beauregard had challenged the veracity of her reports, which meant someone else was giving him contrary information. At first, she had thought this might be Polaris himself, but MacLea was convinced Polaris was in York, and on reflection, Josephine agreed. He operated on a different plane, gathering information at the highest levels. The American agent in Kingston was probably someone like herself, an ordinary watcher. That gave her hope. Spymasters tended to be precious about their gold-plated assets like Polaris, but they were more careless about the lives of their foot soldiers.

  Her third assumption was rather more daring, but it was founded on a thorough knowledge of how Beauregard worked. The Greco Gambit, she thought. Doing the opposite of what an opponent expected him to do. Operating a full-scale courier service in enemy country was risky, especially in winter, when travellers were few and more likely to be noticed. But why bother with a courier service, when you could use the enemy’s resources against him? The more she thought about it, the more convinced Josephine became that Beauregard was using the ordinary post.

  There was a way to find out. Locking herself in her room, she sat down and wrote her own letter in code.

  I assure you my information about Kingston is accurate. My source is a member of the Executive Council. I will send more detail as soon as I have it.

  Meanwhile, it has come to my attention that the British intend to attack Sackett’s Harbor, which they believe to be lightly defended. Colonel Hector Lawrence will be in command. He will have about a thousand men including his own regiment, the Royal Americans, along with two companies of Glengarry Light Infantry and two more from the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, a detachment of militia and four guns. He intends to wait until the lake is fully frozen and march his men across the ice, dragging cannon and stores with them on sledges.

  I do not yet know the exact date, but I will endeavour to discover this and forward it as well.

  As the day drew to its end, she put on her hat, coat and boots, gloves with heavy mittens over the top and several scarves to keep out the cold. Winter meant that everything took longer, she reflected. Getting dressed to go outside was practically a military operation in its own right. Outside, she walked the short distance to Palace Street, slipped into the coach house and placed the letter under the seat of the carriage. Returning to the street, she turned the corner past the house and nearly ran into a man blocking her path.

  Like herself, he was wrapped up against the cold, and in the gloaming, she could not clearly see his face. Only when he spoke did she realise his identity. ‘Madame Lafitte. It is late to be on the streets alone.’

  ‘You are kind to be concerned, sir,’ Josephine said, wondering what he was doing here. ‘But I assure you I can take care of myself.’

  ‘Night is coming, and the cold is deepening. What calls you out of your warm house so late in the day?’

  ‘Nothing of importance,’ said Josephine coolly. ‘I am helping Miss Selby to arrange her wedding, and simply running some errands for her.’

  ‘Ah yes, the wedding,’ said Kramer. ‘Of course, this is a busy time for Miss Selby. There is so much to be done, I am sure.’

  Josephine clicked her tongue. ‘You cannot imagine. The baker, the milliner, the seamstress, the confectioner; the list goes on and on.’

  ‘It is good of you to help your friend,’ said Kramer. ‘And yet it must be difficult for you also, madame. This happy event must surely evoke memories of your own bridal day; and then of your great sadness when your husband was so cruelly torn away from you.’

  Josephine, who had never married, looked modestly down at the snow beneath her boots. ‘It is hard at times,’ she said quietly. ‘But I am also very happy for Miss Selby. Forgive me, sir, but as you say, the hour is late, and I must go.’

  Kramer did not move. ‘So soon? Yours must be a lonely life, Madame Lafitte. Will you not favour me with your company a little longer?’

  ‘I fear not, sir. Not tonight.’

  ‘Ah, then another night, perhaps? No, do not leave. Look at me.’

  A note of command had entered his voice. Josephine looked up and met his eye, and even in the blue shadow of dusk she could see his thoughts plainly.

  ‘You are frigid, perhaps,’ he said. ‘This Canadian cold has got into your blood. No?’ He considered her for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No. I do not think you are frigid. I think there is a fire in you. I should like to warm myself there.’

  He took a step towards her, but Josephine slipped nimbly to one side and moved past him. ‘I think not, Mr Kramer,’ she said calmly. ‘If you want warmth, seek out the drabs on Yonge Street. They will give you what you are looking for.’

  Kramer did not answer at first, but she coul
d feel his eyes on her back as she walked down the street. ‘You have no idea what I am looking for, Madame Lafitte,’ she heard him say, and then, very quietly, he began to laugh.

  * * *

  The contract for postal services in Upper Canada was held by the freight forwarder, Elijah Dunne. Letters intended for Kingston to the east or Ancaster and Niagara to the west were hand-delivered to his offices on Front Street near the navy dockyard, where they waited until the next consignment went out. Batches of letters tended to arrive about once a week, though there were frequent interruptions due to weather or enemy action.

  The next morning, heavily muffled once more, Josephine walked to Dunne’s office. The entire harbour as far as Gibraltar Point was now covered with a thick sheet of ice; she could see little dark patches here and there where people had cut holes in order to catch fish. In the distance the waters were still unfrozen, but if this bitter weather continued, the whole lake would soon begin to freeze.

  Dunne’s office was a big wooden building next to a row of warehouses. Its front door led directly into the main office, with a high wooden counter facing the door. Behind this was a row of desks where clerks worked busily, warmed by two big cast-iron stoves. One of the clerks looked up, then rose and came to the counter.

  ‘How may I assist you, ma’am?’ he asked.

  ‘I should like to speak to whoever is in charge of the post,’ said Josephine.

  The man bowed. ‘That would be me, ma’am. I am the post office clerk. Do you wish to post a letter?’

  ‘No, but I am expecting one from Niagara,’ said Josephine. ‘My friend the vicar’s wife promised to write, but I have not heard from her.’

  ‘Perhaps she is unwell, ma’am.’

  ‘In which case her husband or one of the servants would have written to tell me,’ she said firmly. ‘May I ask when the last consignment of post arrived from Niagara?’