When they returned to the States, Chatham decided to continue in his father’s footsteps and almost immediately left for Europe to finish his medical studies. Sean reenlisted in the military. He had an extraordinary ability to blend into and become absorbed by his environment and the people in it. Several of his superiors recognized this rare facility and had enlisted him in their various ploys against the enemies, known or potential, of America. It was then that Sean learned what so many of his peers, past and present, in the older nations of the world had known for hundreds of generations: information obtained early and from the source is information that can be used to win battles, both in war and in politics.
In a relatively short time, Sean had become recognized as a master of espionage. His every faculty seemed made for this work, and he loved what he did. He loved the danger, the excitement, but most of all he loved knowing he could do more for his country and his people as a spy than if he fought in a hundred pitched battles.
When he had first approached Chatham with the offer of joining him and his growing band of espionage agents, Chatham put him off. But after many arguments and conversations, Robert began to understand what Sean was doing and agreed to join him. He’d never regretted the decision. Although the doctor longed for the day that he could set up his own practice and be available to all those who needed him, he’d found this life held great attractions for him—and that he was available to help those who met with misfortune was of no small consequence to him.
The only thing that bothered him, and this was a recent burden on his mind, was that he wanted a family. He yearned to bring more life into this great country. Although Robert Chatham never spoke of it, he knew who it was that he wanted for his wife and the mother of his children, and the impossibility of that.
“In all this time we have been together,” continued Sean, picking up the conversation, “we’ve never had an assignment like this. I will grant you the possibility that James Cornwall might try to kill Kira if we do recruit her—but do we have another choice?”
“There has to be another. Besides, if our information is accurate, how could you maintain contact with her? She’ll be inaccessible at New Windsor.”
“I have an idea about that.” Sean ran a hand over his mouth thoughtfully. “If I can get her to agree with us, she can request, when she’s feeling ill, that you be her doctor.”
“And what of Wycuff, her regular physician?” asked Chatham.
“We’ll work that out,” Sean said.
“Why is it the important, smaller details that always wind up being worked out?” asked Chatham sarcastically. “I know it’s I who will have to do it. There may be another way.”
“Oh?” said Sean, his sapphire eyes sparkling with interest.
“Do you think the entire will is a forgery?”
Sean slowly massaged his forehead. Then, as he lowered his hand, he shook his head. “No. If it were, that would mean James Cornwall planned his brother’s death long in advance. I don’t think such is the case.” Sean reached into the humidor on Chatham’s desk and withdrew a long, brown cheroot, which he lit carefully. A gray cloud floated from his mouth into the air above him.
“I believe the will was changed, but only the special amendment. That last clause is false.”
“I agree,” said Chatham as his voice took on a sudden urgency.
“Which means that there must be a copy of the original somewhere.”
“Of course! And if there is, we can give Kira back what is rightfully hers.”
Sean started to pace again, but this time he was like a caged animal, roaming the perimeter of the room.
“In the lawyer’s office?” asked Chatham.
“No,” countered Sean. “The lawyer was either bribed or is a British sympathizer. He wouldn’t leave evidence about.”
“Jonathan Cornwall’s office!” Sean said.
“As good a starting place as any, but why not at Haven?”
“I doubt that he would leave it in his home where there are so many chances for inquisitive eyes to find it. A safe in his office would be my guess; anyway, it’s worth a try.”
“Tomorrow!” Sean said decisively.
“Who will search?” asked Chatham. Their manpower in Charleston was severely limited.
“Me. It has to be me.” Sean’s eyes blazed with challenge.
Chatham recognized the fire in Sean’s eyes. He knew better than to try to argue once this man had made up his mind. “What if you’re seen? Don’t forget there’s an alarm out for you.”
“Please, Doc, won’t ya please help out a pur seaman? Couldn’t ya find a spare farthing fa me? I need ta work, your honor, but me stomach need ta have some fillin’ so I can work a fair day.” As Sean spoke, he hobbled around the room, and appeared to become smaller, shrunken. His voice had floated into a higher, uneducated whining while his face melted into a caricature of its former handsomeness. The only way anyone would have been able to recognize him was from the blue of his eyes and the silver-black of his hair. Chatham knew his tactic. A watch cap, worn by many seamen, would cover his hair, and a little dirt, smudged around the eyes, would tone down their brilliance.
“Able seaman Reagan Jones again, is it?” asked Chatham, his voice capturing the humor of past memories.
“No matey, able seaman Timothy Jones, Reagan’s brother, reporten’ fa’ duty!”
“Be careful, Sean,” warned Chatham, deadly serious once again.
Sean stood up, his face and voice returning to normal. “I’ve too much to look forward to, Robert. I’ll be careful.” Sean smiled, his affection for Chatham flooded through him as he sat down next to the doctor and relaxed for the first time that night. As they talked on, images of Kira Cornwall floated before his eyes, tormenting him with their vividness.
CHAPTER 8
The day was bright and sunny, but less hot than usual in early August due to a cooling breeze coming from Charleston bay. It was near noon, and the streets were beginning to fill with people emerging from the stores and offices along Port Street. Workers were leaving the confines of their stuffy buildings for a bit of fresh air to help them digest their noonday meal.
Standing across the street from Jonathan Cornwall Shipping, Ltd., was a scruffy seaman, seemingly in debate as to what direction he should take. No one bothered to look very closely at the man. They had seen enough of his kind— looking for work or lying drunk on the many side streets that led to the docks.
But if anyone had examined him, they would have noticed his skin was not as weathered as it should have been for his age and station, nor were his eyes as bleary as his manner indicated. They would have noticed, had they cared, that no matter what direction he moved in, his eyes were riveted on the front of the shipping company.
The seaman sighed as his vigilance was at last rewarded when three men came through the doorway of the office and out onto the sidewalk. One was James Cornwall, another his own shipping company’s manager and the third, although Sean had not seen him before, knew at once he was a ship’s captain—most likely from one of Jonathan Cornwall’s vessels. The three men had crossed the street, passed the shabby seaman without a glance, and Sean knew his disguise was perfect. With a slight smile on his lips, Sean waited until the three were halfway down the street before crossing to the other side.
Previous reports had indicated that Cornwall would take his lunch at twelve. There should only be one clerk in the office, and Sean was prepared to deal with him.
When Sean was half across the cobblestone street, he saw a carriage pull up to the shipping company office. A young woman stepped down from the carriage. Sean paused, catching his breath as his eyes beheld Kira Cornwall. Kira’s hair was pulled back severely in a tight bun that only served to accentuate the largeness of her almond-shaped eyes and the gracefulness of her face. She wore a forest-green riding dress of gabardine that flowed down her hips to flare slightly as it reached her thighs. A jacket of a cream-colored silk covered her shoulders but r
emained open across her bosom, allowing her throat and the valley of her breasts to be kissed by the noonday sun.
Sean had not expected this. Kira’s arrival would force a change in plans. He turned sharply away and walked several paces down the street. He paused in front of a lawyer’s office and pretended to study the sign in the window as he eavesdropped on Kira Cornwall and her driver.
“There will be no need for you to wait here, Abraham,” she said in her low, musical voice. “But you can pick up the items on my list. Be back within the hour.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said the tall, thin slave as he bowed his head and departed to follow Kira’s instructions. Kira glanced up and down the street before entering her father’s offices. Her eyes lingered momentarily on the hunched-over figure of the seaman, but quickly flicked away as Sean returned her glance with a leer.
When Kira entered the building, Sean cursed his luck. There would be no way for him to get into the offices now. Sean had no doubts about the ability of his disguise to keep him hidden from the casual observer, but close scrutiny from Kira would find him out.
Sean walked to the open window and listened while Kira addressed herself to the clerk.
“I’ve come for some of my father’s personal belongings,” she said in a strong voice that brooked no argument. The befuddled clerk mouthed his regrets on her father’s death before informing her that his instructions were clear and unbreakable.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he stammered. “But I cannot be allowing anyone into the offices while James Cornwall is absent.”
“I’m sure that order was not intended for me!” countered Kira, as she smiled warmly at the man.
Good girl, applauded Sean silently. But the clerk merely shrugged.
“Where is Mr. Dante?” she asked.
“Mr. Cornwall let all the old employees go and replaced them with some of the staff from his company,” the young clerk replied awkwardly.
“Well, I haven’t all day!” Kira tried to keep the advantage while she fought to mask the shock that she felt at his words. How could Uncle James simply dismiss those loyal men! And without so much as consulting her.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Cornwall, but I was specifically told that no one was to enter.”
“Well, then, have my uncle sent for. I do not have time to argue with you!”
The man became even more befuddled. “I’m so sorry, Miss, but I’m alone, and your uncle and his associates are at the tavern having lunch.”
Sean had already given up hope for a foray into the offices, at least during the day, but perhaps he could help Kira and then after she left, he could meet her on the road and try to talk with her.
Still affecting the guise of the disreputable seaman, Sean boldly entered the offices and lurched toward the wooden railing that separated the waiting area from the clerk’s desk.
“Ho matey… ’Tis Timothy Jones that be lookin’ for a berth!” Sean kept his shoulders hunched and his tall frame slumped forward. He turned towards Kira, keeping his eyes half-closed so that she would not see their true color. “Ah, m’lady, ’tis a fine sight ya be. A vision of heaven.” Sean lurched toward her, but before he could reach her, the clerk opened the small gate and protectively drew Kira inside.
“See here!” he admonished the sailor. “There’s no hiring of hands at this office. There’s been a mistake.”
“This be not Cornwall Shipping?” asked the seaman indignantly.
“These are the administrative offices of Cornwall Shipping. We don’t hire. Go to the shipping offices at the warehouse dock!” ordered the clerk, his voice taking on an authority it had lacked moments before. Then the clerk moved defensively in front of Kira.
“Their warehouse, ya say?” asked Sean as he cocked one eyebrow at the man.
“Yes. Begone now.”
“Aye mate,” said Sean, trying to look past the clerk and gain a final glimpse of Kira to see if she had taken this opportunity to sneak into her father’s office. But the clerk moved sideways again, effectively blocking his view.
“As yer say, matey.” Sean turned. He paused again to glance over his shoulder and saw that Kira had moved from behind the man and was now standing beside him. “’Tis lovely to me eyes ya be, m’lady.” His eyes on Kira, he gave her a long leering wink then strode out the door and around the front entrance. He went directly to the window, leaned against the wooden wall next to it and listened intently.
“Thank you,” said Kira to the clerk in a soft, flirtatious voice. “That man was horrible. I’ll be sure to tell my uncle about your help. What is your name?”
“Clemens,” he replied, blushing at Kira’s tone more than at her words. “’Twas nothing any decent man wouldn’t do.”
Kira smiled. “As long as I’m already here, I’ll just get those things from my father’s office,” she said confidently.
The young clerk’s confusion gave Kira just enough time to turn and start towards her father’s office before he could protest again. By the time he got his mouth open, she was gone.
Sean smiled to himself and walked to the corner of the building. Once there, he looked around to make sure there was no one watching him and then slipped into the alleyway that separated Cornwall Shipping from its neighbor. He began to look into each window until he found the office that Kira was in. Then he watched patiently as she began to search the office.
Kira went immediately to her father’s desk. As a tiny child she had sat there, perched on one corner, watching her father work. The small miniature of her mother and another of herself were all that adorned the desk now. She picked up the painting of her mother, its gilt frame feeling cool to her fingers, and placed it in her bag. Then she stood in the center of the office, her mind working furiously. Where would her father have hidden valuable papers? The safe stood open; thus, her earlier hope was dashed, for she knew it would have been searched. The filing cabinet would probably have been ransacked also. Kira moved swiftly to the rear of the desk and began to open drawers, pulling out random sheets of paper but finding nothing. Occasionally, Kira’s eyes flicked toward the door in anticipation of the clerk’s eventual return. As she went to the tall wooden filing cabinet and opened the first drawer, the voice of the clerk, Clemens, called to her.
“Mistress Cornwall,” he said, walking in and catching her at the filing cabinet. “Can I be of help?” Kira looked blankly at him for a moment before she replied.
“You’ve only been here since Uncle James arrived,” she said carefully, remembering to smile. “I doubt you would know where everything is. Besides, I’m just looking for some of my personal correspondence from a friend in France.” Under the spell of Kira’s smile, the clerk was ready to believe anything, and he bowed to her graciously as he backed out of the office.
“If there is anything else you need, please ask,” he said, and closed the door. Kira ran to the closed door and threw the bolt. Safe now against another unwanted intrusion, Kira searched the filing cabinet in earnest. It was slow going and Kira kept checking the clock that was on the wall behind her father’s desk. When she realized that she had only a few minutes left before her uncle would return, she stopped searching and began gathering her wits about her. She remembered something her father had told her many years ago. There was a secret space in the filing cabinet for special papers and documents. Her hand went to the back of the top drawer, and her fingers searched until they found the seam.
Suddenly she felt the wood open, and her fingers touched paper. Slowly, holding her breath, Kira pulled out a yellowed envelope. She looked at the name on it and quickly removed it from the drawer. As she stared at it, she sensed some movement; she shrugged slightly, dismissed the feeling of being spied on, and began to open the envelope.
Sean, seeing Kira turn, ducked down and started to leave the alley. But as he approached the street, he heard the loud voice of James Cornwall giving instructions to one of the men he had walked out with earlier. Sean flattened himself against the building, thi
nking quickly. If Kira had found a copy of the will, or even a document that mentioned the will, she was in danger. What could he do to help her? Suddenly, he ran back to the window, a solution forming in his mind.
There were several crates lying about, which he shoved under the window. Hearing a loud knock at the office door, he climbed up. He tried to pull the hinged window open, but found it locked securely. There was no time to be cautious. He took the handle of his knife and quickly broke a pane of glass. The glass fell to the floor and its shattering echoes rang through the alley as Sean’s fingers freed the catch. He jumped inside as Kira, now frozen between the strange apparition in the window and her uncle at the door, stared with wide eyes at the grubby seaman.
“No,” she screamed, backing away from him. “Help me.” Kira moved to the door, terror giving her body strength. But as she reached the bolt, Sean grabbed her hand away and spun her around.
“Let me go!” she spat at him, trying to pull away from his superior strength.
“What’s happening in there?” called James Cornwall. “Open this door.”
“Open it yerself, matey!” Sean yelled back. As he spoke, Kira was still trying to pull away from him. Keeping his voice low, he murmured, “Don’t fight me. You’ve nothing to fear from me.” Kira, in her terror, did not even hear the change in his voice or accent. She fought against him while the men pounded against the locked door. Sean sighed, drew his arm back and swung his large fist into Kira’s jaw. Kira slumped forward. Sean grabbed the yellow envelope from her hand and slipped it into the waist of his pants. Then he threw Kira across his shoulder as if she were weightless. He was through the window when he heard the door finally burst open, spilling the captain and James Cornwall in a heap on the floor. Once safely outside with his burden, Sean turned and smiled at the men as they struggled to get up.
A Whisper Of Destiny Page 6
