by Laura Landon
“Don’t leave, Barnaby. Not yet.”
“I have to, love.”
“Why? Is it time? Have the boats come ashore? I don’t like it, Barnaby. This plan is too dangerous.”
“I need to get there before midnight, and I have an errand to take care of first.”
“What errand?”
Barnaby hesitated. He wasn’t sure he should tell Millicent what he intended to do. But as it always was, he couldn’t keep anything from her.
He rose to his feet and pulled on his clothes. “I want to talk to your brother before I leave.”
Millicent rose. “I want to go with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is to me. I want to be with my family.”
Barnaby nodded. “Of course you do. Hurry and dress. We don’t have much time.”
With his help, it took Millicent no longer to dress than it did him, and within moments they left her room and went down the stairs to the octagonal room with the hidden passage surrounding it. When they reached the rooms Millicent’s brother and sister shared, Barnaby opened the door.
He expected to be greeted by darkness, but two lamps lit the area. Thomas sat in one of the overstuffed wing chairs, and Polly lay fast asleep on the sofa.
“She was certain you’d come tonight and made me promise to wait with her, but she couldn’t stay awake.”
Millicent stepped across the room to where her sister slept. When she reached her, she pulled a warm, woolly throw blanket over her sister’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “She looks like Mama, doesn’t she, Thomas?”
“Yes. But then, so do you.”
Millicent looked at her brother and smiled.
“Sit down,” Thomas said pointing to the sofa, “and tell me what’s happening. I know something is. Radburn came earlier this evening with instructions that I was to make sure Polly and I didn’t venture out until someone came to tell me it was safe.”
Barnaby took two glasses from the sideboard and walked to where Renfrew sat with a decanter of brandy beside him on a table. He filled his glass and put a smaller amount in Millicent’s, then sat down on the sofa beside her.
“You’re right. It’s happening tonight.” Barnaby took a swallow of his brandy.
“I want to help.”
The controlled fury on young Lord Renfrew’s face turned his features harsh. There was a lethal calmness in his gaze, yet the hatred Barnaby saw blazed with a desire for revenge.
Millicent’s brother paced to the other side of the room. He took one healthy swallow after another of the brandy in his glass. After several tense moments, he turned. “What is the plan?”
“The ship coming to transport the explosives has arrived. Because of the rocky coast, it can’t come close enough to load the explosives. It will have to send in smaller boats to move the arsenal, and the word is that they’ll come an hour before daybreak. So we have a few hours.”
“Then what?”
“The French guards Radburn has been keeping in the dungeon say Roseneau will personally oversee the exchange and receive payment. He’ll light a flare to signal the boats to come ashore. When he enters the cave, I’ll be there. It shouldn’t take me long to overpower him and bring him out of the cave with me. Once he’s out, the authorities will take over. All that will be left is the destruction of the explosives. Which will happen shortly after Roseneau and I exit the cave.
“When the smugglers realize that their cargo has been destroyed, they’ll make for the open sea. But by then, several British naval ships will have cut off their means of escape and arrested them.”
“Your plan sounds viable.”
“It is,” Barnaby answered with as much confidence as he could muster.
Millicent’s brother turned and took several steps from them. “You mentioned that you work for the government,” he said when he faced them again. “Why is it that they want the munitions destroyed? Wouldn’t they rather confiscate them for their own use?”
Barnaby was impressed. “There are several reasons the government wants the explosives destroyed. The first is that the buyer is Italian, and Monsieur Roseneau is a French citizen. Although both of their illegal dealings are known to the authorities, if the explosives remain, either government might put forth a claim concerning them. Our government considers it in our best interests to eliminate any bone of contention before it can escalate into a larger conflict.” He smiled. “And destroy a smuggler’s hiding hole to boot.”
“I see,” Lord Renfrew answered, then turned and focused his gaze on Barnaby. “Are you the only government agent here?”
Barnaby hesitated. “Yes. Well, except for Will who’s in the dungeon.”
“What?”
Barnaby laughed. “I’ll explain later.”
Thomas interrupted. “So the success or failure of this mission is totally reliant upon you.”
“Yes. I was given two directives: to capture or kill Roseneau and to destroy the ammunition stockpile.”
This was the first time Barnaby had put into words exactly what his role was in the government—that of a hired assassin if need be. He wondered what Renfrew thought of what he’d been assigned to do. If he objected, it was something that would have to be worked out later. But more important to him was Millicent. He couldn’t abide it if she saw him differently now that she knew.
He turned to face her. “My orders are to do whatever is necessary to capture Roseneau so the government can try him for the traitor he is. Or eliminate him so that he can never cause more deaths.”
“Are you asking me—the one who was prepared to kill Radburn when I thought this was his doing—if I’ll love you less because you might have to kill the man who murdered my parents, Barnaby?” Millicent rose from where she sat. She walked to where he was and reached for his hand. “If you are, the answer is . . . how could I be anything but grateful to you for ridding the world of someone so evil?”
Barnaby brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I love you,” he whispered.
“And I love you.”
Barnaby shifted his gaze to Millicent’s brother. He’d taken a step toward them.
“I know what you want me to do, and why,” Renfrew said, “but I can’t. I can’t stay behind while you take all the risks. I may not be of much use, but I will be there. I will at least witness the capture of the man who destroyed my family. Or witness his death.”
Barnaby wanted to argue with Millicent’s brother, but he couldn’t. He’d feel the same way if he were in Renfrew’s place. He was a man, after all. A man who’d suffered more at Roseneau’s hands than any of them.
“Very well,” Barnaby finally agreed. He turned to Millicent. “Instead of waiting with Elizabeth and Lady Radburn, you will wait here with your sister.”
“But—”
Barnaby placed a finger over Millicent’s lips. “We have to keep your sister safe, too. That will be your role.”
She looked at her sister still sleeping on the sofa and nodded.
“Get your jacket,” he ordered Millicent’s brother. “And a pistol if you have one. We must be going.”
When Renfrew left the room, Barnaby took Millicent in his arms and kissed her.
“Remember your promise,” she said when he released her. “You promised you’d come back to me.”
“I remember,” he said, then kissed her again.
He released her when Lord Renfrew came back into the room.
But he wanted to hold Millicent in his arms and never let her go because he feared this would be the last time he’d ever hold her again.
At least in this lifetime.
Chapter 22
Barnaby hid behind the cluster of rocks while he watched for any sign that Roseneau might have shown up early. He had no doubt he would come. The ship was anchored within sight and waiting for the signal to send the smaller boats ashore.
He looked to the north and south. A score of Radburn’s men were stationed behind the r
ocks on either side of the cave entrance. Barnaby would take cover in the cave, and Roseneau would enter sometime before dawn. He’d do whatever it took to subdue Roseneau. As soon as the smugglers’ skiffs reached shore, armed guards would surround them and move them to cover. No use going to the trouble of capturing them and then letting them be blown to bits. Radburn would have sealed the trapdoor up top. It was going to work. The trap was all but sprung.
“Are you going in now?” Millicent’s brother asked from behind him. Thomas had been with Barnaby since they’d left Millicent at the house with Polly.
“Yes.” Barnaby looked both directions. When he didn’t see anything, he turned to Lord Renfrew. “Is your pistol loaded?”
“Yes.”
Barnaby nodded. “As soon as Roseneau lights the flare and enters the cave, I want you to get down behind those rocks.” Barnaby pointed below him to the left. “That big rock on this side of the entrance.”
“Yes.”
“I want you to take cover behind it. If something goes wrong and Roseneau escapes, you will have to take care of him.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
Barnaby focused on Lord Renfrew. The scar on his face pulled his skin and lifted the corner of his mouth in what appeared to be an angry snarl.
Barnaby was going to warn Renfrew that killing another human being wasn’t easy. Especially the first time. But Renfrew seemed to anticipate his concern.
“Don’t worry that I won’t be able to kill him,” Renfrew said. “This is the man who murdered my parents and left me like this.” He pointed to his face.
Barnaby nodded his understanding and turned back toward the beach only to find Roseneau just ten paces outside the cave. He and Thomas ducked lower behind the rocks.
“Bloody hell!” Barnaby whispered. “He’s early. Four hours early!”
Barnaby should be inside the cave, in a secure position, waiting for his target. Instead, he’d be forced to follow the man into the cave. Suddenly Barnaby found himself in the worst possible position.
The Frenchman pulled a Chinese rocket from his coat and knelt on the beach. He planted the rocket’s long tail in the sand, then lit it with his cigar. The rocket shot high into the sky, then popped in a brief, modest show of color—the signal to alert the ship that he was ready to make the exchange. Roseneau watched for a moment, then tossed his spent cigar in the sand and turned.
Barnaby looked out toward the ship. He could just see the shadowy outlines of the landing boats being lowered into the water. They’d be here in no time.
Barnaby held his breath until Roseneau entered the cave, then he climbed down the rocks. Renfrew followed. They kept in the deepest shadows, lest the smugglers aboard the ship see them and let off a volley to warn Roseneau.
When Renfrew was in place, Barnaby looked to where Radburn was stationed on the promontory. Radburn gave a slow wave, confirming his readiness.
Barnaby took a deep breath, then entered the cave. He’d played the scene in his mind a hundred times. Now, in the blink of an eye, he had to change his plan. He would use the element of surprise to overtake Roseneau and bind his hands with the length of rope that hung from his belt. Then, as soon as he heard the sailors being rounded up, he’d walk Roseneau out of the cave. And when they were safely away, the munitions would be detonated. That was if he was lucky. If he wasn’t . . .
Barnaby refused to allow his mind to go in that direction. He refused to think of the worst that might happen. Instead, he paused long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the cave, then crept silently forward.
He couldn’t make out a figure, but a change in the darkness a few steps away from the stacked kegs of explosives told him where Roseneau was.
“Is that you, Linscott?” Roseneau said from the shadows. “I’ve been waiting for you to come.”
“It’s over, Roseneau. Time for you to give up.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Your men have already been surrounded, and there are guards all along the coast to prevent you from escaping. Her Majesty’s frigate has arrived to prevent the smuggler’s ship from breaking to the open sea. So as I see it, you can come with me or die here.” Barnaby shifted left, then right as he spoke, hoping Roseneau was having trouble seeing his target clearly, too.
Roseneau released a demented laugh. “You think you’ve got me trapped, don’t you, Linscott?”
Barnaby strained his eyes toward the spot that Roseneau’s voice had moved to, but he was still too far in the shadows to see clearly.
“Give yourself up, Roseneau.”
“Ah . . .” Roseneau sighed. “You mean I can die at the end of a rope instead of in the explosion you plan here.”
“It makes little difference to me, Roseneau.”
Roseneau made a sudden, swift movement, and with it the controlled tension of the standoff turned into a nightmare.
“I think the lovely lady will do nicely to press my advantage,” Roseneau said, pulling Millicent in front of him when he turned around.
Barnaby’s heart quaked, and his breath caught. Millicent stood in the sand just a few feet away from him. Her eyes were wide with fear, and Roseneau’s arm was clamped beneath her throat to hold her as a human shield.
Roseneau pushed her forward, and something glinted in her bound hands, but Barnaby focused on the pistol Roseneau pressed with deadly calm against her temple.
His blood turned to ice at the sight of her stricken face.
“Let the lady go,” Barnaby demanded. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, does she not? The fact that you care what happens to her means she has a great deal to do with this.”
Barnaby let his gaze lock with Millicent’s and tried to assure her that she would be safe. That he would save her. The expression she returned told him she understood.
“I know you think there is a way you can stop me, Linscott, but let me assure you there is not. I will be a rich man even without the sale of the explosives. Won’t I, my lady?”
Roseneau pressed the pistol against Millicent’s temple until she was forced to tip her head at an uncomfortable angle.
“Show Linscott the gift you retrieved for me.”
Roseneau moved the pistol from Millicent’s temple to beneath her chin. “Show him,” he said, pressing the pistol upward until Millicent cried out in pain.
Millicent slowly lifted her hands and opened her fingers, revealing Radburn’s diamond-and-emerald necklace clenched in her hand.
“Now, Mr. Linscott. Drop your weapon and step back.”
Barnaby considered firing at Roseneau. He didn’t doubt that he’d be able to hit him, but he couldn’t guarantee that Roseneau wouldn’t get a shot off before he died. Roseneau might be dead, but Millicent would be, too.
“And if I refuse?” Barnaby said, keeping his gun in his hand. He knew the moment he dropped it, he would be a dead man. And Millicent was only safe as long as Barnaby stayed alive. “It won’t do you much good, you know.”
Roseneau cocked his head, unsure what Barnaby meant.
“The emerald necklace.” He nodded toward Millicent’s hands. “By itself.”
Roseneau’s laugh seemed to hold the smallest hint of uncertainty.
“You don’t—”
“Yes, I do. I have the tiara. And the ring. And the bracelet. And the earbobs.” With each word, Barnaby’s voice rose in greater taunt. “And they’re no longer in that Swiss bank.”
Roseneau yanked Millicent closer to him and moved the pistol back to her temple. His voice held an undercurrent of panic. “I am sorely disappointed in you, Linscott. You are not near the agent you are reported to be. If you were, you would have noticed the trail of gunpowder leaking from one of the kegs.”
Roseneau gestured to an area just beyond where he stood. A curving trail of gunpowder ran from the keg to an area about five feet from the center of the explosives. Roseneau had found Barnaby’s hidden fuse and replaced it with this deadly trail. If it
were lit, Barnaby estimated that they had no more than fifteen seconds to escape.
His mind raced in search of his best option. He needed Millicent’s help in order for it to work.
He looked into her frantic eyes and flicked his own eyes from her hands still holding the emerald necklace to Roseneau’s face. He repeated the signal and knew the moment she understood his message.
“You expect me to believe you would bring this cave down upon us?”
“Not us, Linscott. You. The cave will only come down on you.” Roseneau shifted the gun beneath Millicent’s chin once again and cocked the hammer. He released her with his other arm long enough to reach into his jacket pocket and remove a cigar. Millicent froze. He pressed the cigar between his lips and lit it. “But don’t fret, Linscott,” he said while he puffed on the cigar. “You won’t feel pain. You will already be—”
Before he finished the sentence, he swung his pistol and fired.
A burning pain exploded in Barnaby’s chest, and another stitch grabbed at his side.
With a soul-rending screech, Millicent stomped her heel hard on the top of Roseneau’s boot. A split second later she flung the emerald necklace up like the tail of a whip. The necklace connected with Roseneau’s face, and he bellowed in pain. Blood flowed freely from his left eye.
Barnaby lifted his pistol and fired the instant Millicent was free. “Run!” he yelled, then fired a second shot as Millicent raced past him. Roseneau fired another shot and another, but both went wild. Before Roseneau could fire again, Barnaby managed to get off one shot, then another, and both hit their marks.
The force of the bullets knocked the traitor backward into the kegs of explosives. His hand shot out, and the cigar he was holding arced like a flare through the air. Barnaby watched in horror as the cigar landed in the middle of the trail of powder that led to the leaking kegs.
It was going to blow. How much time did he have? Ten seconds? Fifteen?
Barnaby struggled to stay on his feet. His injuries were severe. Perhaps even fatal. But he didn’t want to die inside the cave. He was determined to make it out.
