The Devil's Agent

by Roger Hurn

  Bloodwine turned his hands palm upwards and said: ‘Well, I can see how these enterprises make him rich, but I fail to detect the stink of corruption.’

  Murray fixed him with a haughty look. ‘Then your nose is not as finely tuned as mine, sir! I am convinced the fellow is cheating the exchequer of a fortune and growing fat on the proceeds. You will find out how and bring the evidence to me then I will expose him and see him disgraced.’

  Bloodwine shrugged. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but I’m but only a lowly thief-taker, I don’t move in exalted circles like you and I would need to be close to this man to discover how he operates.’ Bloodwine cocked his head to one side and studied Murray to see what impact his words would have.

  Murray sighed. ‘Inglethorpe is a thief. You, sir, are a thief-taker so find a way to catch him or hang. It’s a simple equation and one that should help concentrate your mind.’ Murray’s voice was as cold as the winter wind and Bloodwine knew he had to think fast. Fortunately, it was an ability he possessed.

  ‘Very well, your honour. I have a scheme, but I’ll need the help of your two men to carry it out. Can I trust them to do exactly as I ask?’

  Murray nodded curtly. ‘I purchase their loyalty with coin and I purchase your loyalty with rope – but it makes no matter. All three of you are bound to me and, as my star rises, so does yours and theirs. So what is your scheme?’

  Bloodwine drew in a deep breathe. ‘It’s simple, he said. ‘We stage a robbery. Samuel and Jim will attack Inglethorpe in the street looking to lift his purse and then I’ll appear and rescue him from their clutches.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Samuel stared contemptuously at Bloodwine. ‘A mummer’s trick like you’re proposin’ has gotta look real and it won’t ’cos how’s a needy mizzler like you gonna scare off two turks like me and Jim? You gonna shout “boo” very loud and fierce?’

  Bloodwine shook his head. ‘No. I’m going to borrow a pair of barking irons from his lordship here and the sight of me waving those should be more than enough to cool your ardour. Then I’ll blast away at you as you take to your heels.’ He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Better hope I don’t play my mummer’s part too well, Sam, and plug you as you run. You’re a target that’s hard to miss.’

  Bloodwine was gratified to see a spark of fear in the big man’s eyes. ‘No, I’m jesting,’ he said. ‘But I take your point that it has to be a convincing piece of mummery. So I’ll shout out and fire one barker into the air as I approach. This will give you both time to make your escape and therefore make my miss with the second barker more credible. Then I’ll escort Mr Inglethorpe to a tavern and buy him a brandy to settle his nerves. One brandy will lead to another and soon we’ll be the best of friends and I’ll walk out of that tavern in his employ. Damned if I won’t.’

  ‘Damned if you will!’ thundered Murray. ‘Your scheme is flawed for the rogue never walks the streets at night – he takes a sedan chair and who can blame him?’ He glowered at Bloodwine. ‘So think again, sir, think again.’

  ‘How do you know this, my lord?’ Bloodwine asked.

  ‘Because the deuced fellow spends his evenings at my club when he’s in town. In truth, I can barely hear myself think for the braying of his bumpkin’s voice as he holds forth to his cronies. Then, when he finally grows bored with cards and drinking, he staggers out and tumbles into the chair he’s hired to wait outside for him.’

  Bloodwine grinned broadly. ‘Then, if you’ll agree to play a part, my lord, the flaw in my scheme is easily remedied. All you have to do is keep a weather eye on him whilst he drinks and gambles and then, when he makes ready to leave, slip out ahead of him and commandeer his chair. When he comes out hard on your heels and finds it gone he’ll have no choice but to walk home to his lodgings and that’s when Samuel and Jim will pounce.’

  Murray pursed his lips together. ‘But what if they refuse to carry me?’

  Bloodwine shrugged. ‘Oh you have more clinks in your purse than most men, my lord. So buy their loyalty.’ Despite his best intentions he couldn’t stop himself from adding: ‘I believe it’s a knack at which you excel.’

  Chapter Four

  The following evening found Bloodwine waiting in the street outside Murray’s club. He was in a mood as foul as the weather. ‘William Murray, you are a ruttish, hag-born carbuncle,’ he muttered. ‘And may I live to see the day when the Devil rides your arse all the way to Hell.’

  But cursing the absent Murray didn’t make him feel any better, so he took stock of his situation instead. Clouds ragged and black as crows’ wings blanketed the moon and stars and a fog as thick and yellow as Madeira wine hung in air already rank with the stench emanating from the city’s tan yards, chimneys, dyers, blanket scourers, breweries, sugar bakers, soap boilers and shallow graves. Hardly a soul was out on such a mizzling night and the few that were hurried along with their scarves pulled up over their faces to try and keep the grit and soot from their mouths and eyes. Their collective wish was to be home and out of the murky air as soon as possible and they were in no mood to notice the plight of others. So, despite his anger at Murray, Bloodwine couldn’t help feeling a bleak satisfaction. He wasn’t a praying man but, if he had been, he would have thought his prayers answered. On nights like this only the darkness was made visible and that was perfect for the kind of skulduggery he had planned. He cared nothing for Murray’s attempt to snare his rival, but he knew his only chance to save his own neck was to deliver Inglethorpe to him – and that he intended to do.

  Across the street the two chairmen Inglethorpe had hired for the night stomped their feet and blew on their hands as they waited for him to finally come out of the gentlemen’s club where he was carousing. Bloodwine could sense their impatience. The killing cold was eating its way into their bones just as it was his and he knew that Murray’s shillings would be all the incentive they’d need to abandon their patron.

  ‘Come on Murray, you pampered lolpoop,’ he muttered. ‘‘It’s time to set this game in play before we all freeze our balls off.’

  Despite Bloodwine’s eagerness, another hour passed before Murray came bustling through the club’s doors. He hurried up to the two chairmen and, after a brief conversation, money changed hands and he clambered into the conveyance and was carried off down the murky street.

  No sooner had the chair vanished into the darkness than Inglethorpe appeared. Bloodwine gave thanks to the gods of thievery that his long wait was now over. ‘By Christ, you’re jug-bitten drunk, aren’t you my gentry cove,’ he murmured as Inglethorpe staggered down the stairs and looked about in total bafflement for his hired sedan. ‘Still, that’s all to the good as you’ll be in no fit state to see through the mummery that lies in wait for you.’

  After a minute or so, it finally penetrated Inglethorpe’s befuddled brain that his chair had gone and it wasn’t going to miraculously reappear. He swore loudly and at length and then lurched off in the general direction of his home. Bloodwine fell into step some fifty yards behind him. He found it almost impossible to see Inglethorpe in the thick fog, but he could hear him coughing and rasping as the acrid air scoured his throat. He hoped Samuel and Jim wouldn’t miss their target in the gloom – but then he heard Inglethorpe give a startled cry. This puzzled him as Inglethorpe hadn’t yet reached the spot where Samuel and Jim lay in wait. Greatly concerned he pulled out his flintlock pistols and ran towards the sound of the struggle.

  He saw two burly but shadowy figures grappling with the stocky MP. Bloodwine fired a shot into the air but, even as he did so, he had a nasty feeling that something was very wrong. His instincts were correct for, as he closed in on them, he saw that Inglethorpe’s assailants were not Murray’s attack dogs but two strangers. They were beating Inglethorpe ferociously with cudgels and seemed intent on murdering him for his purse.

  ‘Stop that you bastards or I’ll drop you where you stand,’ he shouted.

  The two rogues paused for a second and turned to see who was interrupting
their sport. A brief look of understanding passed between them as they saw Bloodwine advancing towards them pistol in hand. Then one of the villains gave Inglethorpe a shove and sent him tumbling to the ground. His head cracked against a cobblestone and he lay still. But, even as Inglethorpe was falling, the other rapscallion launched himself at the thief-taker. Bloodwine didn’t hesitate. He shot the man at point blank range with his second barker. To his horror, the fellow kept coming. As Bloodwine backed away he felt panic clutching at his throat. His flintlocks were empty and he had no idea of what else he could do to drop the brute. Then a look of complete bewilderment crossed the villain’s face and he suddenly stopped and tottered from one foot to the other before slowly sinking to his knees. He pressed his hands to his chest and bright red blood oozed through his fingers. He started to sob, but Bloodwine had already dismissed him from his mind. He had a new concern. The other footpad was advancing on him swinging a cudgel with evil intent.

  Bloodwine dropped his shoulder and feinted, making the man’s first swing miss. Then he stepped forward and smashed the butt of his flintlock into the man’s nose. There was a sickening crunch as the bone and cartilage crumpled from the force of the blow. He followed up his momentary advantage by bringing his knee up sharply into his assailant’s groin and then jabbing the index and forefinger of his left hand into the man’s eyes. The man was blinded and shrieking with pain, but he still flailed wildly with his cudgel and caught Bloodwine a crushing blow on the side of his head. Lights exploded behind Bloodwine’s eyes and he felt his legs fold under him. The world seemed to tip giddily onto its side and the muddy ground rose up to hit him full in the face. He lay there stunned and helpless.

  ‘You shit-eating whoreson,’ screamed the man as he stood over Bloodwine. ‘You’re dead.’

  He crouched down and raised his cudgel ready to smash the thief-taker’s skull but before he could deliver the fatal blow, the cudgel was kicked out of his hand.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said a coarse voice. ‘Cos if anyone’s gonna send this canker to hell it’s gonna be me not you – and I will do it, you see if I don’t, but he’s got work to do before that day arrives. So I’m sending you instead.’

  Bloodwine rolled onto his side in time to see Samuel spit on the ground and kick the man hard on the point of his chin with his heavy boot. The man’s head snapped back and the lights went out in his eyes. Samuel gave a loud sniff and sneered, ‘Bet yer never thought the day’d come when you was glad to see me ’n Jim, Mr bloody high ’n mighty thief-taker.’ Then he turned to his partner. ‘C’mon Jim, let’s get these coves out of sight while our friend here picks hisself up, dusts hisself down and plays the hero to Mr Inglethorpe.’ He glanced down at the still unconscious, but now twitching form of the MP. ‘And I do believe he’s about to stir, Mr Bloodwine, so look bloody lively or the jig’ll be up.’

  Chapter Five

  Seconds after Samuel and Jim dragged the two dead men away, Inglethorpe came to his senses, pushed himself up onto his knees and then retched violently. Bloodwine was still groggy from the crack he’d taken on the side of his head, but he knew he had to gather his wits and play the part of the gallant rescuer, so he crouched down and rubbed the MP’s back vigorously.

  ‘Come on, sir, you’ve had a nasty encounter with some villains, but you’ll be right as ninepence now.’

  With a great deal of difficulty and much mutual staggering, he helped the badly battered and bruised man to his feet. Inglethorpe leant heavily against him, his rancid breath foul in Bloodwine’s face.

  ‘Who the deuce are you, sir, and where are the curs who attacked me?’

  ‘I’m Balthazar Bloodwine, the man who chased off the bastards who waylaid you. I winged one of them, but they escaped me, damn their eyes. But I’ve saved your purse, sir.’

  Inglethorpe shook his head. ‘Zounds, sir, you’ve done more than save my purse, you’ve saved my life.’ Then he groaned. ‘But I wish you’d happened on the felons a mite sooner, Mr Bloodwine, for I fear they’ve broken me.’

  ‘Not a bit of it, sir. I took some hurt myself in the fray, but I’ll get us to a woman I know who has some expertise in the tending of wounds.’ He smiled and nodded enthusiastically. ‘In faith, I’d sooner trust her to mend my bones than any quacksalver to the gentry.’

  Inglethorpe grunted. ‘Well, unless the lady lives hereabouts I’m at a loss to know how you’ll manage that, my dear fellow. My legs won’t obey me and I’m no lightweight to carry.’

  Bloodwine was thinking the same thing himself, but then he saw a red light dancing in the mist and out of the gloom came a link boy carrying a flaming torch for two chairmen. Their chair was empty and they were heading home for the night but, eager to make one last fare and some easy money, they stopped when Bloodwine hailed them. They were less pleased when Bloodwine ordered them to take his charge to the maze of rotting streets of the rookery known as Old Nichol.

  ‘It’ll cost yer two shillings to go to that putrid labyrinth at this time o’ night,’ said one of the chairmen. ‘And you’re lucky Jeb ’n me are being so reasonable. Most chairmen wouldn’t take yer there for twice the amount – and it’s another sixpence for the boy,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘Don’t bargain with them, Mr Bloodwine,’ pleaded Inglethorpe. ‘I’ll pay what they’re asking and gladly. Just get me to your healing woman before this bloody pain in my ribs overwhelms me.’

  Bloodwine nodded and helped his charge ease into the sedan. When he was settled, the chairmen set off at a steady pace while Inglethorpe sat inside groaning and gasping at every jolt like a woman in labour.

  ‘Sounds like your gent’s taking a hammering, but then the quality don’t bear pain like us, do they pal.’

  ‘And they don’t need to listen to your natter when they’re paying you half a day’s hire for a twenty-minute journey,’ snarled Bloodwine. ‘So close your gob and carry him gently or I’ll see how well you bear pain.’

  The chairman was no slouch in a fight, but he wanted his two shillings more than he wanted a quarrel with Bloodwine. He fell silent and concentrated on navigating the chair and its passenger through narrow canyons of blackened brick buildings and sewage-strewn streets to the tenement on Boundary Lane which was their destination.

  After nearly half an hour of sullen silence punctuated by sporadic moans and gasps of agony emanating from the interior of the chair, Bloodwine and the reluctant chairmen and their boy arrived outside the two-roomed hovel that was home to Becca Harrison, the woman Bloodwine sought.

  He hammered on the door while the two pole-men half dragged, half carried Inglethorpe out of the chair and propped him up against the tenement wall. He pressed some coins into their hands and they tipped their large cocked hats to him and strolled back to the chair well pleased. The link boy held out his hand for his share and was cuffed on the ear by both men. The lad glared resentfully at them. ‘But you said I was to ’ave a sixpence!’

  ‘Don’tcha know money’s the root of all evil, you little tyke?’ replied one of them. ‘Now, git back to work and if you’re lucky we may give yer a couple of coppers when we’re done.’ They picked up the poles to the chair and made ready to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ shouted Bloodwine. ‘His lordship will need you to take him home.’

  ‘Nah, the Devil can take him. There’s not enough coin in London to persuade us to stay in this stinking shit-hole any longer than we ’ave to.’ The chairman hawked and spat on the ground. ‘C’mon, Jeb. Let’s git ’ome and no more rides tonight, gentry or no.’

  With the link boy leading the way they hurried off into the all-enveloping night.

  Bloodwine muttered a curse, but then banged on the door again. It was half opened by a haggard, hollow-cheeked woman of about forty. She looked ready for a fight, but her hard eyes softened when she saw who was standing in front of her.

  ‘Well, look who’s ’ere turnin’ up like a bad penny. Balthazar Bloodwine as I live and breathe.’

  Bloo
dwine grinned at her. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you too, Becca.’

  Then Becca Harrison heard Inglethorpe moan and she narrowed her eyes and stared at the thief-taker. ‘You brought trouble to my door, Balthazar? ‘Cos it’ll cost you if you ’ave.’

  Before he could reply, Inglethorpe appeared at his shoulder. He smiled graciously. ‘Not trouble, I hope madam, but a Christian soul in need of assistance that Mr Bloodwine assures me only you can provide.’ He bowed and winced with pain then straightened up with some difficulty. ‘I’m James Inglethorpe and delighted to make your acquaintance.’

  Becca instinctively gave a little curtsy then frowned as if cross with herself for being impressed by the stranger’s manners. She didn’t answer him, but said testily: ‘All right, Balthazar. You’d better bring ’is lordship inside afore ’e catches ’is death.’

  Chapter Six

  With Inglethorpe clinging to his arm like a limpet to a rock, Bloodwine stumbled into the small room that was home to Becca Harrison and her four children. It had a table, a scavenged and battered old armchair, a chest of drawers, and a straw mattress all squeezed into a space not much bigger than two of the billiard tables in Murray’s club. The meagre fire burning in the grate drew moisture out of the saturated plaster, creating wisps of fog inside the house and, despite his own extreme discomfort, Inglethorpe was shocked by what he saw.

  The four children were sitting up on the mattress staring at the intruders over the top of the threadbare blanket they were clutching. They were scrawny, sleepy and pale, but didn’t appear at all surprised to see the two badly beaten men.