A Close Run Thing

by David Donachie

  ‘Pearce,’ Dundas cried, as he entered the room, coming forward to take and pump his hand. ‘By damn I am delighted to see you.’

  Which caused the recipient to blink; they had rarely, over several years and in previous encounters, exchanged a civil word, this while Pearce prided himself on his ability to get under the skin of the man. Dundas demanded respect, which was not only far from forthcoming, but usually held back, responses larded with a demeaning insult. Oliphant, standing to one side, got a nod, to then be referred to.

  ‘Our friend here could not praise you enough for the way you carried out your task. Saved the opposition to the Jacobins from any rash actions, which would have seen them destroyed. Live to fight another day, eh?’

  ‘They do not possess the strength they aspire to,’ was all Pearce could say, which had the virtue of being the truth.

  ‘Never thought you had it in you to be so calculating.’ Pearce could only maintain a blank look, as Dundas carried on. ‘But with the link you’ve set up, we can maintain contact, so when the time comes …’ What would happen when the time came was an expansive wave of the arms. ‘Anyway, you’ve earned your reward. Never say that Henry Dundas does not keep his word.’

  The temptation to respond as he would have done previously had to be curtailed. He really wanted to say that when it came to making and breaking promises, Dundas was a master craftsman.

  ‘Billy Pitt has spoken to Spencer and you’re to have a ship, not that the sod was pleased. He knows I’m behind it. We do not see eye to eye on much, quite the reverse. I’m told you’re resident in Harley Street. It is to the address Oliphant has provided that your commission will be sent. It will also come with the trio of named exemptions you requested.’

  Pearce looked at a beaming Oliphant. What in the name of creation had he said? There was no time to ponder, Dundas was speaking again. ‘We have another mission we wish you pair to carry out.’ Oliphant’s smile changed to a wide smirk; this was what he had played for. ‘You mentioned, Pearce, when we last met …’ There was a pause then; was Dundas recalling the acerbic remarks John Pearce had aimed at him? ‘You mentioned you know the creature Godoy.’

  ‘Know of him, yes. Sir David Rose told me of him when I stopped at Gibraltar.’

  According to the Governor of the Rock, Manuel Godoy was a commoner risen to prominence in the governing council who, in all but name, ruled Spain. Reputed to be the lover of the queen, he held the whip hand over her feeble monarch of a husband. Loaded with titles and money, Godoy was held to have no end to his ambitions, even to the point of coveting the crown.

  One thing was known; he was antipathetic to the alliance Spain had with Britain, one which flew in the face of historical precedent, given how often the two countries had been mortal enemies. Sir David was in receipt of intelligence that Godoy was going to sign a treaty with Revolutionary France, to end fighting in the Pyrenees. If he went further and allied Spain to France, the Rock would be at risk of siege, as it so often had been in the past. And so would the British fleet in the Mediterranean, faced with the combined forces of two nations.

  ‘We think the upstart is still playing ducks and drakes with the French, without yet committing himself, so we need to keep an eye on them both. You are to have a sloop, I’m told, so I want you two off the Catalan coast observing what’s going on.’

  ‘We two?’

  Dundas swung to scowl at Oliphant, who’d posed the question. ‘If Godoy allies with the French, he’s not going to shout it from the rooftops, is he?’

  It was Pearce who answered. ‘Not before he has launched a surprise attack in the Mediterranean.’

  ‘I never had you as the owner of a brain. I am moved now to think I was wrong.’

  ‘A gift inherited from my sire.’

  Dundas was about to object and with some passion; he had held old Adam to be an impractical fool, the radical orator against the master of placemen and influence peddling. But he held his response in check as Oliphant spoke, his voice sounding indignant.

  ‘What about the opposition we uncovered in France?’

  That got a dismissive shrug. ‘You said yourself they are far from ready to act in any meaningful way. Thanks to Pearce here, we have the means to keep their hopes alive. But that is all about promises, which will be hard to presently fulfil. We shall keep them warm while their strength grows to become a real threat to the regicides.’

  ‘Without we keep close contact,’ Oliphant protested, ‘they may wither.’

  ‘A possibility, I grant you,’ Dundas muttered. ‘Right now, the defection of Spain is the most pressing danger.’

  Oliphant was struggling to contain his anger, which was patently not easy, so his voice had a strangled quality. ‘Neither Pearce nor I speak Spanish, as far as I know.’

  ‘What does that matter?’

  ‘How are we to manage anything when we don’t speak the language?’

  Dundas raised his eyes to the ceiling in frustration, addressing them both.

  ‘I want you off the coast of the old principality of Catalonia, and they don’t speak Spanish either. Part of that old Barcelona patrimony is in France and it crosses the Pyrenees. If there is skulduggery it will be around that border. There is where you’ll find if the French and the Dons are colluding. If they are, your task will be to see how far it extends and, if it is an alliance, to alert Sir John Jervis so he’s not caught napping.’

  ‘A watch on the Spanish Fleet in Port Mahón might serve as well,’ Pearce said. ‘They have been singularly inactive of late. If they weigh and head east for Corsica, it could point us to the nature of their game.’

  ‘I do not suggest you have to always act in unison with Oliphant. He can see to matters on land. You’ll have a ship and the ability to act as you see fit. Jervis is committed to the defence of Italy and keeping the Toulon fleet from mischief. He lacks the means to carry out the task of watching the Dons himself.’

  ‘Funds,’ Oliphant said, his voice still strained. ‘Bribery trumps observation.’

  A bit of the old Dundas emerged then, as he glared at Pearce. ‘They will be provided. It is to be hoped they’re better managed than the monies you pissed away in the Vendée.’

  Tempted to respond in kind, Pearce once more held his tongue. It seemed churlish to remind a man, who’d just told him he had a ship, that the way the money had been wasted was his own fault.

  The streets of Covent Garden were rarely quiet, even in the small morning hours before the carts began to arrive with produce for the market. If the area was a hub for the distribution of vegetables and flowers, it was also a home to every sort of drinking and entertainment den: playhouses, taverns, brothels in warrens peopled by pimps and trollops. There were also bagnios of various levels of refinement, where such activities were carried out with some discretion, leavened with music, singing and a good dinner.

  That it was a hotbed of crime went with the district. It was no accident the Bow Street Runners had been set up from the nearby courthouse of that name. Catching a pickpocket, a thief or a sharp, in these streets, could be as simple as reaching out a hand for a collar. That said, the dips, cutpurses and filchers were of all ages from stick-thin children to rosy-cheeked and prosperous-looking burghers: you could never tell who was what.

  The whores who paraded the streets in daytime, and they were numerous, ranged from the elegant and expensively clad, to the occupants of dark alleyways, from near-starving waifs to long-faded beauties of the type who would see to a man’s needs for a copper penny.

  Hodgson had plied his trade in the area for years, with many an excursion out into the country, in pursuit of some felon seeking to escape the grasp of the law. Well known, the tradesmen, shopkeepers and stallholders tended to smile and nod, honest folk who saw in his presence a degree of protection. Most of those who roamed the streets avoided him; those of criminal intent were never sure if he was on the hunt, the bearer of a warrant, or just out for a stroll.

  It was evening
and the light was fading when he left Edward Druce, lanterns being lit in the windows of the buildings, as they had to be by statute, to illuminate the streets, which were dangerous. In the dark, and there were many places such lights did not penetrate, they could be fatal, especially to strangers to London, drawn to the Garden for its dubious and scandalous reputation.

  In these streets they would pass hawkers and peddlers selling everything from nosegays of rosemary to apples, trinkets and gimcrack souvenirs. Lottery ticket sellers, both honest and crooked, would tempt them with the chance of a fortune, enough to buy a carriage and four. From the doorways and lower windows every type of carnality would cry out to entice them, even to the guarantee of a virgin child, if that was required for satisfaction.

  It would have been difficult for a stranger to saunter past Lady Barrington’s bagnio in Long Acre. This was housed in a narrow five-storey building, which contained space enough on the ground floor for the various pleasures provided. Above lay the rooms, which both accommodated the girls and gave them a place to entertain their well-heeled clients; the services they offered did not come cheap.

  The queue outside was long and noisy and there was a fellow on the door, calling out the attraction, even if there was no need to tout for business. A party of four, two couples, were emerging as Hodgson approached, gabbling excitedly at what they had been allowed to examine: the very room in which Catherine Carruthers had been so foully slain.

  He had no need to queue. A nod to the doorman had him stand aside to permit entry. The sound of the harpsichord reached his ears, accompanied by a charming and trilling female voice. The staircase to the upper floors was in use, the next quartet ascending to view the scene of the foul deed. He passed on to enter the main salon, the fug of pipe smoke causing him to catch his throat. It was, as usual, busy with clients, some eating, others mauling the girls, but that held no interest. He set out to find the owner, Daisy Bolton of Southwark parish, who for the purposes of trade styled herself Lady Barrington.

  The card room, to the rear of the salon, once he had closed the door behind him, was a haven of silence. Serious-looking coves sat round the baize, either hunched over cards – they were losing – or acting expansive, fellows who had in front of them a decent pile of winnings. Daisy was fussing around, ensuring her clients had full beakers and probably glancing at the cards in their hand as she did so.

  Walter Hodgson was not a frequent visitor. He was a man who had no need for the pleasures on offer and nor would he gamble, especially when he suspected that one of the players at the table worked for the house and was not beyond cheating. These were matters he saw as no concern of his, but he had often found information in this kind of establishment, which had made easier the apprehension of his quarry.

  ‘I’m not on the chase, Daisy,’ he said, when he got her far enough away from the slap of the cards to talk. ‘Nice to see the murder of that poor woman is bringing in so much coin.’

  Daisy had been a beauty once, but the years had ravaged those looks: now she sought to mask her lined face with rouge and powder. She had a large and no longer fashionable beauty spot on her cheek; the lips too were rouged and not much given to smiling, which would expose her toothless gums. Her hair was dyed orange, which did not make for an attractive whole, but then Daisy was long past the need for physical charms.

  ‘A windfall indeed, Walter,’ she murmured, nodding towards the green baize table. ‘I am making more on the door than I will from this wagering.’ There came a glint in her eye. ‘We have a special tableau later for a guinea. Special guests only.’

  ‘With a body, I suspect.’

  A chuckle praised his sagacity. ‘In the very spot where that poor creature was found and laid out in the shameless way she was abandoned, her parts on display, as they were after her ordeal.’

  ‘And Gherson?’

  ‘An actor playing the dead dog.’

  ‘He claims he was clubbed and the deed done when he was unconscious.’

  ‘Do I not know of it? He was screaming the very same as he was led away.’

  ‘What chance he was telling the truth?’

  The rouged lips pursed; the notion was unwelcome. ‘If he was, it is no concern of mine, nor, I would imagine, yours.’

  ‘He will hang for sure when the courts resume sitting.’

  Daisy shrugged. ‘I’m sure he is sinner enough to deserve the rope for crimes past, so it will be justice.’ Picking up from the pinched look on his face, she added, ‘My concerns are here, Walter, in this establishment of mine, for which I pay a great deal to people we both know of, for peace and quiet.’

  ‘They cannot have a stake in this crime.’

  ‘They decide what takes their fancy, not you or I. They will take their share of my extra coin for the tableau.’

  ‘I am asking permission to enquire, Daisy.’ That was open to long consideration before anything emerged. ‘You cannot deny his custom.’

  There was no need to identify whom he meant. ‘Gherson had been here on several nights, much favoured given his spending.’

  ‘Was he armed, a sword or a knife?’

  ‘Not a sword – for the other, who would know?’

  ‘And the girls?’ A shrug. ‘Come, Daisy, who did he consort with?’

  That got a hollow laugh. ‘You’d as well ask who he didn’t. He was like a man starved. There were two of my belles on his knees when the Carruthers woman arrived, which did not go down well.’

  ‘His state?’

  ‘Drunk, what else? For that and the girls, he was berated with tears. She started screaming imprecations about what she had sacrificed to him, with no doubt about what she was referring to. She was making a scene and refusing to leave, which obliged me to shift them out, for the sake of my other custom.’

  ‘To the room where she was slain?’ A nod.

  ‘I allowed Gherson the room, aiming to charge him for it later.’ That got a prune-like expression. ‘I’m still waiting.’

  ‘Who found the body? Or bodies?’

  ‘I went to tell Gherson he could have the room if he paid, but if not, for both to leave.’

  The memory, and it must have been a horrible sight for all her granite exterior, made Daisy suck in hard. ‘I sent to Bow Street right away, which had the whole place in uproar, folk fleeing for fear of their own lives or ghouls crowding in for a look.’

  Hodgson waited a while before he posed his next question. He could see she was struggling with a depth of emotion that he would have scarce credited. ‘Daisy, I know you depend on regular custom.’

  ‘Where would I be but the workhouse if I did not?’

  ‘Then, if there were strangers around, you would know of it, people who may never have brought you custom before that night and have not been back since.’

  The answer was even longer in coming, several deep breaths preceding it. ‘I might have.’

  ‘Dammit my beaker is empty,’ came a cry from the table. ‘Am I to be catered for or left to die of thirst?’

  ‘He will die of poverty the way he plays his cards,’ Daisy whispered, as she slipped away to attend to his needs and those of the other players. It was some time before she rejoined him. Clearly she had thought about the question he had asked in the meantime.

  ‘I will not stand for any distress, Walter.’

  ‘You know me well enough to be sure I will bring none down upon you.’

  Again the pause was long, her words being well considered. ‘There was a couple of hard bargains in that night, not of the type who make up most of my custom.’

  ‘So they would stick out?’

  ‘I would have them as men of the sea. Their gait and hair ribbons gave it away.’

  ‘You marked them well?’

  ‘For their quiet, their lack of interest in my girls, nor could they be tempted to sing when we came to responsive verses. They were not given to gaiety.’

  ‘I would like more?’

  Daisy waved her gnarled hands, as if she�
��d said enough. ‘They sat, they drank but little, did not eat and, between themselves, barely spoke and that in whispers. There was a likeness, as if they were related, and one was heavily scarred on the face.’

  ‘Did they stay until the murder was discovered?’

  ‘They departed not long after Gherson and his lady had gone upstairs.’

  ‘Speak any words on leaving?’

  ‘None that I can recall. Paid their tariff and left.’

  ‘This you should have told to the magistrate.’

  The response was sharp. ‘Not a man whose company I seek out, given the number of times I have paid his fines. Anyway, the deed was done and it had me a’feared for my trade. I thought no one would cross the threshold of a door that had seen such a horror. My girls were in terror, as well. Two of their number left that very night. I reckoned I faced ruin.’

  ‘Which has happily turned to profit.’

  ‘Which I did not see at first, only when callers came seeking to view the room and offering to pay.’

  ‘Was there a knife in the room?’

  ‘I can’t recall seeing one, but happen the Runners took it.’

  ‘Daisy, if I sent a limner round to you on the morrow, would you aid him in making a drawing of your pair of quiet sailors?’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The packet, delivered by a naval messenger, bore a seal that had John Pearce draw a happy breath. He weighed the heavy document in his hand before he broke the wax. There it was, from the Lord Commissioners of the Admiralty, telling him by name that he was required to proceed forthwith and with all speed, at his peril, to Sheerness, there to take command of His Majesty’s Cormorant Class sloop, HMS Hazard.

  What followed was the usual words regarding his responsibilities to both the navy and his sovereign. But there were no other instructions as to what duties he was to perform and nor was he designated to sail under any flag officer. This meant he would be under Admiralty orders, as he had been in the past, which debarred anyone other than their Lordships from interfering in his assignments by giving him contrary instructions.