When Adam and Rainham arrived at the Wall, the beach below still appeared deserted.
‘Could Tranter be wrong?’ murmured Rainham, frowning.
Adam shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. They’ll be there but staying out of sight until they get the ship’s signal. Look out for a blue flash. That’s when things begin to happen.’ He shifted, frowning a little. ‘I still wish I’d been able to warn Levinson.’
‘Well, you couldn’t – and it would have been asinine to try, so forget it. He’s done this before, hasn’t he?’
‘Once. He said he’ll move his men into place as soon as there are signs of activity and invade the beach as the first of the cargo makes land.’
‘Upon which, I presume, you and I join in the fray?’
‘Unless you’d rather sit and watch?’
‘Very droll,’ muttered Rainham. And fell silent.
Below them and a few hundred yards away, Guy also waited for the fun to start … except that, like the other evening at the London, nothing felt quite right. He’d caught a number of strange glances and Dan Clements, his friend and partner for the unloading, wasn’t his usual cheerful self. Eventually, when incomprehension became a mixture of hurt and unease, he could keep silent no longer.
‘Dan … have I done something wrong?’
‘I don’t know. Have you?’
The blunt question and the hard look that accompanied it rocked Guy on his heels. He said, ‘Such as what, for example?’
‘How would I know if you don’t?’
‘But that’s the thing. I don’t. I mean, I really don’t.’
Clements eyed him narrowly for a moment and then said slowly, ‘You’ve not let anything slip, then? Maybe at home?’
‘What? No! Of course not!’ replied Guy hotly. And lowering his voice in response to the angry hissing noises around him, ‘How could you think that? I’ve been one of you on and off for years and never said a word to anyone.’
‘That’s it though, isn’t it? On and off, like you said. Mostly off.’
‘I couldn’t help that. And it’s different now.’
‘Yes. You’ve not had to creep about under your sister’s nose before.’
Something lurched unpleasantly in Guy’s chest. He said, ‘Millie’s doesn’t know anything. I make damned sure of that. And anyone who says different is a liar.’
‘If you say so,’ shrugged Clements. ‘All I know is, her name came up somewhere it shouldn’t and, far as we can see, there’s only one way that could have happened.’
‘Shut up,’ said a voice from behind them. ‘Ship’s here.’
For a while after that everything happened in well-ordered silence. Men poured on to the beach, some leading ponies or driving carts, and boats were dragged down to the water. Forcing himself to ignore the uneven thundering of his heart and the knot of worry numbing his mind, Guy concentrated on the tasks required of him thinking, Dan has it all wrong. Millie doesn’t know. She can’t. I’ve always been careful about that. Somebody’s made a mistake – but it wasn’t me.
The first incoming boats were being unloaded and their contents transferred for transport when they heard the sound of horses racing along the sand toward them.
‘Dragoons!’ someone shouted. ‘Defend yourselves!’
And then all hell broke loose.
Shots rang out as an orderly line of horsemen bore down on the smugglers who, encumbered by boxes, packages and small kegs, were caught unprepared. A dozen men fell where they stood. Others froze for a second, unsure which way to turn and some still tried to get their loads to the carts or ponies. But the majority threw the goods aside – just in time to meet the onslaught of a further twenty redcoat infantry swarming over the Wall. The silent world of the beach was all shouting, flashes of light from pistols and the clash and slither of steel.
At the first sign of Levinson’s dragoons, Adam and Rainham left their position and scrambled down towards the mêlée. Rainham had a pistol in each hand and Adam, his sword. By the time they reached the action, a battle royal was in full swing. Trying to form a defensive line to protect both their colleagues and the cargo, batsmen fought troopers off with clubs and flails. Away to his left and over the din of confusion, Adam could hear Levinson roaring out orders to hold formation … and then he came under attack from a fellow wielding a long-handled spade.
He ducked, reached out and grabbed the stave. The man wrenched it from his grasp and swung it at his head. Adam ducked again, swerved underneath and clipped the man who held it under the chin with the hilt of his sword. He went down, taking the spade with him … and Adam immediately found himself facing an ancient cutlass in the hands of a massive fellow with tattoos. Adam didn’t generally like fighting with a blade in each hand but this was no time to be finicky. Keeping Goliath and his cutlass at bay just long enough to draw the knife from his boot, he launched into a swift series of moves designed to disarm if he could, wound if he couldn’t. Even now, he preferred not to kill anybody unless he absolutely had to.
Goliath kept on coming. Adam danced out of reach. With a roar of derision, Goliath charged … and blundered harmlessly by when Adam side-stepped, spun and sent him staggering with a boot to the back. At this point, Adam became aware of another fellow bearing down on him armed with a flail and realised he couldn’t deal with both of them. Hurling his knife at Goliath before he had a chance to turn around, he saw it embed itself in his shoulder. Then, without wasting a second, he leapt at the other man and delivered a slash to his right forearm. The flail hit the sand and the man howled.
Aided by a couple of dragoons, Rainham was attempting to stop a second gaggle of smugglers escaping by boat. The first was already some thirty yards from the beach. He had discharged both his pistols and had no time to re-load … but he doubted the smugglers knew that and hoped that one or other of the dragoons had a shot left. Aiming a pistol in each hand, he roared, ‘Stand or I fire!’
Three men dropped their clubs and raised submissive hands. But two others spun round and splashed frantically towards the waiting boats. Neither of the dragoons fired. One remained where he was, clumsily trying to re-load his musket. The other hurled himself after the escapees and, wielding his musket like a club, brought one of them down. Cursing wildly, Rainham ploughed after him and managed to fell the other with a sort of flying dive. Face down in three or four inches of water, the fellow gurgled and struggled until a slight relaxation in pressure allowed him to lift his head sufficiently to haul in some air.
Wet and annoyed, Rainham arose, hauling his captive up by the collar.
‘You!’ he snapped to the dithering trooper. ‘Help secure these men – now and quickly.’
‘Sir!’ The soldier jumped to obey, looking shamefaced.
Leaving them to it, Rainham turned back to the ongoing chaos and tried to assess the situation. A few of the ponies were missing and also, he thought, one or two of the carts which meant that some contraband had left the beach. There were still pockets of fighting here and there, punctuated by the occasional shot. Quite a few men of both sides were down, some dead but by no means all. Levinson’s troopers seemed to be closing in on roughly two dozen smugglers who hadn’t managed to flee and some of his officers were working to secure the scattered cargo. He couldn’t see Adam anywhere.
Beyond the as yet incomplete circle of redcoats and having just disabled a fellow intent on staving his skull in with a cudgel, Adam was taking a moment to catch his breath when his attention was caught by a man who was attempting to crawl, inch by inch, up the beach. Frowning, Adam dropped on one knee beside him, taking in the quantities of blood from a bullet wound in his back. Turning him over as gently as he could and discovering a second and clearly mortal wound to the stomach, he said, ‘Be still. You won’t make it.’
The man blinked at him out of pain-glazed eyes and muttered something incoherent. Then, more lucidly, he said raggedly and in French, ‘I must. I cannot be … taken.’
Adam’s breath snared but he answered coolly and in the same language.
‘You won’t be. I’m very sorry, monsieur.’
‘I … I am dying?’
‘I fear so.’ Feeling rather sick, he folded the man’s hand in his own.
‘Soon?’
‘Very soon.’
The Frenchman managed a wry grimace. ‘Merde.’
‘Indeed. May I know your name, monsieur?’
‘C-Corbeau. Gaston Corbeau. You?’
‘Adam Brandon.’
Silence. Then, so faintly Adam barely heard it, ‘You are … not French … I think.’
‘Does it matter?’
This time the silence was even longer. ‘It seems … not. My papers …’
But even as Adam leaned closer to listen, Corbeau expelled a long, sighing breath.
Slowly, Adam folded the dead man’s hands over his chest and was just about to get to his feet when he saw the small, sealed packet protruding from the Frenchman’s torn coat. He removed it and dropped it in his pocket. Then he stood, suddenly conscious of the painful blow he’d taken to his left elbow and the throb in his cheekbone that might be heralding a black eye. Around him, something approaching order was gradually being restored with prisoners being marched away while the wounded, both redcoats and smugglers, were loaded into waggons. Turning, he saw Rainham heading his way and said remotely, ‘Still in one piece, I see.’
‘Yes. You?’
‘A scratch or two.’ And gesturing to the Frenchman, ‘Better than Monsieur Corbeau, here.’
Rainham’s gaze sharpened. ‘A spy?’
‘It would seem so. I have his despatch. But that’s for later. First we’d better thank Levinson for his assistance and come to some arrangement about his prisoners.’
‘Yes. But for God’s sake, let’s make it quick. I’m looking forward to a bath.’
Adam sent him a pitying glance.
‘Keep looking forward to it. Given our current living conditions, it’s the nearest either one of us will get.’
A short while ago, Guy Edgerton-Foxe had recovered consciousness to the confused sensation of being in a boat. He opened his eyes, but hurriedly shut them again when his skull throbbed as if it was about to split. Had someone hit him? And why was he in a boat? Cautiously, he opened his eyes again. He was jammed in the rear of one of the small boats used to ferry cargo and it was being rowed very fast towards … what? Guy tried to think. The last thing he remembered was the descent of the dragoons and shots being fired. He’d been with Dan. A wave of relief came over him. It was all right then. Dan had somehow got him off the beach before he could be wounded or captured. He was being rescued. Thank God. Except … something wasn’t right, was it? No. It definitely wasn’t. His hands were bound.
‘Back with us, are you?’ growled Dan Clements over the splash of oars from the other end of the boat. ‘Good. That’ll save me carrying you up the ladder.’
‘Ladder?’ asked Guy. And then, fear slamming through him, ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Never you mind,’ came the cold reply. ‘A lot of us’d like to know what you’ve told and who you’ve told it to. So we’re going somewhere you’ll have plenty of time to explain all about your sister and Brandon and them bloody dragoons. I’m looking forward to it.’
By the time Adam and Rainham got back to the cottage, the first fingers of dawn were touching the sky. Both of them were tired, dirty and increasingly aware of a variety of aches and pains. It didn’t help that they were also aware that their work wasn’t done for the night.
They found Finch alert and ready with cups of wine, Tranter dozing uneasily, still tied to the chair and Sebastian preparing to leave.
‘What happened?’ he asked as soon as they walked in. ‘Did it go as planned?’
Adam nodded wearily. ‘More or less. Nineteen smugglers are under arrest and a further handful, either wounded or dead. Some of the cargo got away but most didn’t. Rainham or I will confer with Levinson later today. What of you? Has our friend here given you all the information you need for the apprehension of Mr Perkins’ murderers?’
‘He’s told me where to find Messrs Sedge and Thompson. And he knows that if he tips them off he won’t like the results.’
‘I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?’ muttered Tranter sulkily. ‘It’s getting light. Can I go now?’
‘Yes – though if you’re wise you’ll lie low for a few hours,’ replied Adam. ‘Untie him, Harry, and see him on his way. You should leave, too, Sebastian. There’s nothing more you can do here and your lady will be worried.’
Sebastian nodded and reached for his hat.
‘My thanks for your help – and I’ll keep you informed.’
When he and Rainham were alone, Adam brought out Corbeau’s packet and removed the protective wrapping to reveal a direction he didn’t understand. He lifted the seal as he’d been taught so as not to break it and spread the sheets out on the table. One glance at them was all it took to see the next problem.
‘It’s in code,’ he said.
‘Of course it is,’ agreed Rainham a touch irritably. ‘But neither one of us is in any state to start trying to break it now.’
‘No. Pity Vincent isn’t here. How good were you at his lessons?’
‘Moderate. You?’
‘The same. So it’s going to take time. Damn.’
They fell silent and, by the time Finch walked back in, were sliding towards sleep. Taking the situation in at a glance, Finch said, ‘Go to bed, the pair of you. You’ll be neither use nor ornament later on if you don’t.’
‘True.’ Rainham heaved himself to his feet and waved a hand at Corbeau’s despatch. ‘That will still be there in four or five hours’ time. We’ll attack it then.’
Adam nodded and watched him trudge from the room. Then, recalling an earlier thought, said, ‘Harry … might someone from the Hall bring bread again today?’
‘Aye. That footman – Thomas, his name is. Probably be here around seven.’
‘Good.’ He pulled paper, pen and ink towards him. ‘Give him this note for his mistress. Tell him to make sure she has it before she goes out and not to let the brother see it.’
Camilla, he wrote
Do not on any account go to the beach today. I need to see you and will explain then. He hesitated and then, in case it wasn’t imperative enough, underscored on any account before considering what to write next. I can’t get to the church early today – but if you think it safe to meet at dusk, I’ll see you then. If not, it must be tomorrow.
In haste,
Adam
He folded the sheet, sealed it and pushed it across to Finch. Then he went in search of his bed, saying over his shoulder, ‘Wake me at nine if I’m not already up. And get some sleep yourself, Harry. You did brilliantly last night.’
As on the previous morning, he arose to the welcome aroma of fresh bread and coffee just as Rainham came in from the yard, towelling his hair. They nodded to each other but didn’t speak until they each had a steaming cup in their hands. Then Adam said, ‘About Corbeau’s despatch … I’ve an alternative we might try.’
Rainham reached for the butter. ‘Go on.’
‘After last night, the smugglers are probably still in disarray. Right now, I doubt they know who escaped, who was lifted and who died. If that’s so, they won’t know Corbeau’s current status and will hope he’s merely delayed … which gives us a few hours’ grace.’
‘To do what?’
‘Figure out where the despatch is supposed to go … and deliver it.’
‘What?’
‘Think about it. Delivering it gives us a chance to identify this co-called Captain of Tranter’s or someone even more senior,’ persuaded Adam. ‘And letting the smugglers believe their chain is still intact gives us a further advantage. Isn’t that worth a try?’
‘Without knowing what might be in the despatch? Absolutely not.’
‘Quite. So I wondered if it could have suffered in transit. Water damage, perhaps?’
Rainham stared at him in silence. Then he said grudgingly, ‘Yes. I suppose that might work. But we need an accurate copy before we can ruin it and it’s two closely-written pages! With the prisoners to question and everything else that needs to be done today, how do you – oh.’ He stopped abruptly. ‘Of course. You want to take it to Millie.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Adam. ‘She memorises it and makes a copy while the largely unreadable original goes where it’s supposed to – if we can work out where that is.’
‘We’ll come to that presently. Aside from a copy for you and me to work on, we should send one to Wilfred Street for Vincent and to keep Goddard informed.’
‘How? Neither you nor I can take it – not with things possibly reaching boiling point here.’
‘No.’ Rainham’s eyes were cold and focussed. ‘So we send it the one way it can’t fall into the wrong hands. Inside Millie’s head.’
For a long moment, Adam simply stared at him. Then he snapped, ‘No, we damned well won’t – or not unless I go with her.’
‘You can’t. You just said as much yourself.’
‘That was before you decided to risk Camilla. If she goes, I go.’ Even as he said it, he had the uneasy feeling that she might have her own views on the matter. Drawing a steadying breath, he said, ‘I suggest we postpone this argument in favour of more immediate issues – such as where to take the original. I sent Camilla a note suggesting a meeting early this evening though there’s a chance she may not be able to come. Assuming she is, you’ll need to be ready to move the despatch onward.’
‘Me? Why not you?’
‘Because a buffoon I met yesterday recognised me from Guy Edgerton-Foxe’s description and, for all I know, there may be others who can do the same. Also, you’re the one who enjoys dressing up. So … what do you make of the direction?’
Still looking both unconvinced and reluctant, Rainham reached for the outer sheet.
To await collection by
Erasmus Brooke Esq.
at Woolland Pack
He said, ‘Woolland Pack? Is that a location? The name of a house? What?’
‘It could be either,’ returned Adam, ‘though if it’s a village, it’s not one I know. But how many men do you think there are called Erasmus?’
‘You’re taking it at face value. Don’t.’
‘No. I suppose not. Perhaps Camilla may have some idea.’ He poured a second cup of coffee and reached for the ham. ‘Here’s the deal. You start working on the code and I’ll go to Hythe to start questioning whichever prisoners seem most likely to know something useful and can also be persuaded to share it.’
‘Probably none of them,’ remarked Rainham. ‘But I admire your optimism.’