Roberta’s heart missed a beat. Was this his intention toward her all along? “A very chaste one, Monsieur le Duc.”
“But of course.” He moved even closer and embraced her in a way that seemed anything but chaste, with a hand on her bosom. With a hand slipping into her bodice, he closed her lips with his own before she could offer a protest, and then took her mouth in his as if he wanted to enter it. She tried to back away but he held her too tightly. She had no choice but to let him continue.
At last he released her and rose to his feet. “I hope very much I will see you again while I am in Antwerp. Should you need assistance in any matter while you are here—you may contact me through the Prefecture. I will do everything I can.”
“I should like to rejoin my husband, Monsieur le Duc. I really think you should not behave so familiarly with a married woman.”
“Yes—I will send an officer to conduct you downstairs. Do not think harshly of me, my Dear—you are an alluring young woman. Think instead of the services I might in time offer you.” He turned and went to the door. “I will send the officer tout de suite; you may wait here for him.”
When the door closed behind him, Roberta jumped to her feet to reorder her déshabillé and straighten her bodice. Her heart raced and her breath seemed bound to run away with her. What should she do—what could she do? She had been assaulted by the second most powerful man in France; she should perhaps congratulate herself she had not experienced worse. It seemed that warnings other women had customarily offered—when France and Britain were not at war—were well founded. It seemed that every Frenchman thought any young woman was there for his pleasure—but was His Grace’s action any more distasteful than some of the requests her husband carried into their marriage bed? Enough. She should not think of that. She was already quite disturbed.
She walked back and forth, reconsidering the conversation and deciding whether she had let loose something she should not have said when the young officer who had brought her there opened the door to look in.
“You are ready, Madame?”
“Yes, of course. Is my husband seated in the corridor where I was waiting?”
“He is in the concourse, I believe. I will accompany you until we have located him.”
It seemed to Roberta that the crush of people in the concourse opened up for them and she soon rejoined her husband. “Did you have a comfortable wait?” he asked.
“I was given refreshments,” she replied as they reached the exit doors.
“That is good,” Lord Bond answered with a smile. “I have also been fortunate. The authorities have supplied me with the documents that should facilitate the needed clearance for the load of tobacco. We will go to find Nederlander as soon as we can hire a carriage.”
He said no more as they walked away from the building through the crowd. Roberta could see from his expression that he had much more to say, but was holding it until they were away from any possibility of being overheard. They were lucky enough to find a carriage in the act of discharging passengers at the Prefecture and were soon on their way to the river with a noisy rumble of iron shod wheels on cobblestones.
Bond turned to her as they left the square. “I think everything went well. The authorities seemed eager to help and quite obliging for my request to send the diplomatic letters to the Ambassador.” He paused and his face grew a serious expression. “The only troubling thing I heard was that Fouché has arrived in Antwerp on some inspection business.”
“Yes,” Roberta answered. “I just encountered him.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bribes at the Docks
After Lord Bond had questioned her on her meeting with Fouché in minute detail they rode along in silence. Roberta wondered if she might expect some sense of an apology for his placing her in such a predicament. As their carriage neared the river it seemed his introspection had landed in a different quarter.
“I cannot expect you to grub about on the docks, but I hesitate to leave you out of my sight again unless I can trust you will not be accosted by informers or policemen. The best thing would be for me to find you a place to wait in the customs broker’s offices. I will need to consult with them about arrangements for the cargo to be auctioned, and my custom will be appreciated.”
“Perhaps I can take the documents that pertain to the permission to auction the cargo.” Roberta smiled. “Monsieur le Duc was most obliging in saying he would offer us his assistance while he was in the city. Surely a proud wife can boast a little of her husband’s friends.”
Bond stared at her. “I hardly think he meant it, but I am at a loss as to why he would even say it.”
“But we may make use of the offer. We deserve something for the ordeal.”
Bond’s stare said more than he might have put into words. “Don’t make yourself too noticeable, my Dear. This auction does require us to emerge from the shadows to some degree, but we must not make ourselves a spectacle.”
“You said the arrival of Virginia tobacco would be something of an event. Why are we even doing this?”
“I intended it as our cover—I should hope it does not become the very opposite. We needed a plausible reason to frequent the river docks where we might see the steamships. Locating our cargo and arranging for its unloading and transport must serve as reason to spend two or three days beside and on the water. After that, I want us to be on our way back to Neuzen and the Reaper.”
“But what of Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab?”
“I will be able to contact our Dutch allies here at the river docks. I hope to have them send a man to investigate their circumstances at this artillery barracks the count identified.”
Roberta felt herself close to tears. “How can we help them?”
Bond made a dismissive gesture. “Cheer up, old thing. They are not beyond our help.”
Roberta dabbed the corner of her right eye. It seemed as if her husband had omitted a vital word from his reassurance—not yet beyond.
After seeing his wife comfortably ensconced at VanRyk Freres brokerage, Lord Bond walked with one of the company’s clerks to enquire about Nederlander’s whereabouts. Why had he received no message from van Ee? The damned fellow ought to have arrived at Antwerp by now.
When they reached the quay to look out at barges and coastal craft moored and waiting for a berth, he almost felt relief at being away from Roberta’s triumphal deceiving of Fouché. Good Lord—she could have said the wrong thing and blown the whole mission. What did Fouché want with her anyway? She suggested he had been comparing her answers to those he had given the sous-prefét. No doubt he was, but it seemed unlikely to have been the sole purpose.
She was a damned attractive woman. Perhaps too attractive with her new fashions and the bold coquetry she used to dazzle the Police sergeant. Elise was a fine baggage who would bed almost any man, but at least she knew when it was appropriate to hide behind a peasant’s coarse manners.
“Do ye see the vessel, Monsieur Paine?” his companion enquired, after they had stood still for several minutes.
“No. We had best go to the Harbour Office to enquire.”
“It is this way, Monsieur.”
They had to join a long queue and wait until they reached the counter before anyone would look at the authorisation he had received from the Prefecture. It seemed to be an issue of territory—the local harbour police being reluctant to submit to the administration of the Department under the Prefect appointed by Paris.
Several officials came to examine the document validated under the Prefect’s signature. They said they would conform to everything it said, but did not hurry themselves. Eventually, Bond was able to gain a private meeting with a senior man and exchange a few silver francs for his cooperation.
“We must await the arrival of the harbour patrol officer, Monsieur. He will have the particulars in his log book if your transport vessel is docked in the city.”
Bond suppressed a sigh. “And when will that be, Monsieur?”
>
“Soon, Monsieur. There have not been many vessels entering the river harbour precincts this morning. The blockade, of course.”
“Would it be permissible for a citizen to engage a boatman to look for his own vessel?”
“I would not advise such a course. There is much travel restriction these days due to—well . . . I cannot speak freely, but there are certain military areas of the shipyards and moorings that must not be entered.”
“What if one were delivering cargo to such a locality?”
“One would be required to have a military escort, I believe. We do not involve ourselves with such matters. Only the arrivals by way of the river and the docking and eventual departures are our concern.”
“I see.” Bond suppressed a groan. His idea to use Nederlander as a vantage point from which to spy on the waterfront of the shipyards and moorings for the pyroscaphes seemed to be doomed. This restriction was certainly not the case when he was here before—something was afoot to make the authorities more careful with their security.
What had happened? He did not want to believe his own incomplete investigations during his first spying mission had attracted the notice of the French. It must be due to some happening elsewhere.
An hour went by before the man identified to him as the officer of today’s harbour patrol arrived. Lord Bond’s official beckoned to him to come into the office. “This American gentleman has papers signed by the sous-prefét of the city to help him locate the hoogaar carrying his cargo from Neuzen.”
“Indeed?” The new officer seemed by his weatherbeaten face to be much more of a waterman than these desk officials. “What is the name of this vessel?”
Bond answered. “The Nederlander, Lieutenant. Recently come from Neuzen with a cargo of American tabac. Did you see it?”
The officer shrugged and pulled out his logbook. “Nederlander . . . it has an identity?”
“On this paper.” Bond pulled out the clearance he had been given at the Prefecture. “I wish to arrange an auction of the cargo as soon as possible. Do you smoke, Lieutenant?”
“What seaman don’t?” he answered as he thumbed through the pages. “Ah. Here it is. Nederlander out of Flushing is moored opposite to the tidal basin. You would but need a messenger to instruct its master to proceed to the quay. What company do you use?”
“VanRyk Freres, the brokers.”
“I do believe they have dealt with two vessels today and both will leave on the tide. Your freighter should tie up at their wharf.”
Bond was both pleased and dismayed at this. It meant more delays while he arranged for a riverman with a small boat to take the message. “I thank you for your assistance, but tell me. Is your day’s work done?”
“Aye. What else do you need?”
“I thought that if you were to go home that way I could ask to sail with you.”
The man shrugged. “I do not operate a ferry, Monsieur, but if you should come to the quay with me I may have a suggestion.”
Bond and the clerk followed the Lieutenant outside and he sent the clerk back to his office with instructions to have the berth prepared for the Nederlander. He followed the officer to a small craft with a spritsail rig with three fellows lazing and smoking their pipes against the furled sail.
“This tabac, it is good?”
“The very best from Virginia.”
“Hey, you men. I have a new task for you.”
Lord Bond sat in the stern with the steersman as the little official harbourmaster craft skated down the Schelde with a lively breeze in the sails. “What time do you begin your harbour duties in the morning?”
“Usually we starts when the tidal swell reaches the city. We waits to check what cargos comes up on the tide. What does ye think of, Monsieur American?”
Lord Bond glanced up at the red, white, and blue flag flapping in the breeze at the pinnacle of the mast. “I merely wondered if I might ask for you fellows to take my wife and myself for a river journey. I promised her a look at Antwerp from the river and it seems it is impossible unless one has an official vessel. What time does your officer join you?”
“He usually arrives about an hour before high tide. Should be about ten of the clock tomorrow.”
“I see. I could offer you double the amount of tabac we already agreed for such a favour. Of course, your officer does not have a share. This is a secret between us.”
The steersman exchanged a sour expression with his comrades and shrugged. “I think it best that we trys out this tabac first.”
In much less time than he had been resigning himself to, they came alongside Nederlander’s rear quarter. He was surprised to see Midshipman Willis clicking his heels over the side as he sat jigging with a fishing line. Before the startled lad could say anything, Bond shouted at him, “Go and fetch Mr. van Ee, lad. I want him to get under way and follow the harbourmaster shalop to your mooring.”
Willis hauled up his line without a word and vanished below. van Ee appeared almost immediately.
“Would you please be so good as to collect four pouches of our best leaf for these fine fellows who have been so helpful to me?” Bond said in Flemish. “Have the crew up anchor and follow us to your mooring. With luck we may unload this afternoon and have the auction tomorrow.”
The transfers were quickly made—the tabac to the pouches of the three harbour crewmen and Lord Bond to the deck of the Nederlander. When they were safely under weigh and following the harbourmaster craft he was able to speak securely to van Ee.
“How is it that you have Willis aboard? I see one of the Reaper’s naval crewmen as well.”
“Lieutenant Farley decided that he should provide armed escort for both craft. I have two armed sailors and a marine aboard as well, while Reaper now has two of Nederlander’s crew.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Not on my authority. When did he do this?”
“When the work on the rigging was complete and he moved Reaper to moor outside the Oostkade. My friend van Aa insisted he should have the post of looking after the longboat crew ashore and send Willis with me. It seems inevitable that as soon as Reaper leaves to go to sea it will be obvious to the French authorities that they have been deceived.”
“Yes, I suppose it will.”
“van Aa does not want to remain in Neuzen to be arrested.”
“Hmm. I need you to do something for me once we dock at the broker’s quay. Information has come into my hands that Mr. Holmes and Captain McNab are in the guardroom of the Fourteenth Companie of Artillery at Berendrecht.”
“Good Lord! They have been discovered?”
Bond shook his head. “It would not seem so. If they were arrested as spies they would have been taken to a Police interrogation and then quickly hung. They must be suspected of some other misdemeanor to be in an army guardroom.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to contact our friends in the Dutch underground to either send a good man to find out what he can at Berendrecht, or else provide you with transportation and assistance for you to investigate. I want to know what the French plan to do with them.”
“I see. It may be less difficult a task than you suppose. I believe the Fourteenth Artillery is mostly Dutch conscripts.”
“That is the first good news I have had today.”
“Oh. What has happened, Mr. Paine?”
“Nothing has actually happened, but Fouché arrived in Antwerp this morning. We have much less time than I planned to complete our task.”
Chapter Seventeen
Action at Le Hotel
They went back to the Hotel du Parc that evening with Lord Bond in a far better mood, after Nederlander tied up at the VanRyk quay and van Ee located a Dutch resistance companion with whom to travel to Berendrecht. He felt even better when he and his wife had refreshed themselves.
As he escorted her to their place in the dining room he felt bathed in a lover’s glow—one day soon she may come to enjoy their intimacy. He hoped to keep
that thought alive as they entered into the domestic formality of eating, without unduly hastening their return to duty.
The respite was short lived. “We must arise early in the morning,” he said after they had finished the soup course. “I have ordered a carriage to convey us to the harbourmaster’s quay at seven of the clock in the morning.”
“So early? I thought our auction would take place in the afternoon.”
“This is not the auction. I have a shalop of the Harbour patrol to take us upon the river.”
“What? We put ourselves in the hands of the authorities again?”
“Not at all. I have arranged to use the craft before the lieutenant arrives. His crew are merely ordinary watermen.”
“But even so,” Roberta allowed. “Why do we not use Nederlander?”
“I learned this afternoon that there are restrictions on vessels sailing to certain parts of the river frontage, doubtless the very portions we want to see. The craft I have engaged carries an official number upon its bow and hoists a large national flag to its masthead. We should not be questioned by the patrols as we sail forth.”
Roberta smiled; perhaps the most generous smile he had seen on her lips since they had married. “Ah, I should remember I have married the most devious man in three nations.” She reached a hand across the table to clasp his.
“And what three nations are these?” he asked jocularly.
“Why, American, our nationality this evening; French, our hosts; and the whole manhood of Perfidious Albion whom we wish to rejoin in but a few days.”
“Good Lord, I fear you have bestowed a mighty reputation upon me—while I only have one ambition—to please my beautiful wife and carry her safely home.” He topped up their glasses so they could toast the intention.
Spies and Subterfuge Page 11
