The lights were blurred in front of his half-opened eyes. Jack closed them again quickly. His hand automatically felt for the bump on the back of his head. He didn’t have to touch it to know it was giving him a throbbing headache. Once again, he opened his eyes. An evil face exuding foul-smelling breath was pressed close to his.
‘Mr Flyford has decided to join us.’ Jack snapped his eyes shut. The face belonged to Lazarus Bowser. What in God’s name had gone wrong?
He was yanked roughly to his feet. ‘Tie him to that chair,’ Bowser commanded. Strong hands bound Jack tightly and then he was left, though one of Bowser’s thugs, armed with a pistol, was ordered to keep an eye on him.
Gradually, he began to get his bearings. This must be Bowser’s warehouse. By the light of the numerous flambeaux, he could see wooden crates piled high one upon another, and bales of cloth stacked against one of the massive walls. There were also trays of spices, the smells from which made him feel sick as his head continued to swim. Steps led up to a second level where he supposed more goods were stored. Where Jack was sitting, in the empty area that wasn’t taken up by the fruits of Bowser’s business empire, two long tables were stretched out end to end in front of him. At the head of these, Bowser was in deep conversation with a small man with a prominent, beaked nose. His movements were quick and orderly compared with Bowser’s cumbersome oafishness. The man accepted Bowser’s snuff and after inhaling, raised his fingers roofwards in a dramatic show of appreciation for its quality. This was surely Bowser’s French contact, a fact which was soon confirmed when Bowser came lumbering back up towards Jack, the man following in his slipstream.
‘Monsieur Mansart, this is the troublesome actor of whom I spoke.’ Jack noticed that Bowser pronounced the ‘t’ in Mansart.
‘Please,’ The Frenchman fussed, ‘please do not give my name.’
‘Do not fret, monsieur, he’ll not see out this night.’
‘You will be discreet,’ pestered Mansart.
‘Bodies are pulled from this river every day. One more won’t make any difference.’
So that was it. The end. How had it happened? Where in the devil’s name was Hogg?
‘You might kill me,’ Jack croaked in a surge of defiance, ‘but you have lost your tea caddy with all your treasonous information in it.’
Mansart glanced at Bowser in alarm. Jack decided to press home his advantage. ‘It is in Captain Hogg’s possession. You and your treacherous cause are lost. I expect the brave captain to be here with his troops any minute now.’
Bowser’s raw features broke into an unpleasant grin. ‘I think not.’
The reason for his infuriatingly calm response became clear when a side door opened and in stepped the last person on this earth that Jack expected to see. She took off her cape and handed it to one of Bowser’s henchmen. The gesture suggested that Catherine Balmore had not come to rescue him. She wore breeches like a man’s and a riding jacket – unusual garb, but on Catherine most fetching. The tea caddy she held in the crook of her arm confirmed that he had blindly walked into a trap.
It was difficult for Jack to explain his feelings at that exact moment as Bowser walked down to greet her. Mansart followed. The woman who had captivated him these last few months; the woman who had shown concern and affection for him; damn it, the woman whom he loved had deliberately handed him over to his deadliest enemy, condemning him to death. His rising anger was quickly replaced by a numbing despair. How could she? Digges had once warned Jack that women would be the death of him if he let them manipulate him. Not even Digges could have realised how literally that would come true.
He could hear Catherine and Mansart exchange words in French. He was too far away to pick up what they said and his French had sadly lapsed since his Oxford days. The conversation reverted to English and Jack saw Bowser jerk his thumb in his direction. Catherine stared along the tables, said something to Bowser and advanced towards Jack. Behind her, Bowser opened the tea caddy and took out the contents for Mansart to view.
Catherine arched an eyebrow at the ruffian standing guard. He obediently withdrew out of earshot, though he kept a wary eye on his captive.
‘Why?’ was all Jack could say. He examined those beautiful eyes, searching for an answer.
‘Why I am I here? Or why are you here?’
‘Both,’ he said managing to inject some fury into his voice.
‘The first is because it is my task. I am French.’
‘You do not sound it,’ Jack found himself saying almost conversationally.
‘My mother was English. She was ostracised by her family when she fell in love with my father. Balmore was her family name. De Gassard is mine.’
‘That is no reason to be involved in all this.’
‘I could say it was for my country or that I am doing it to get revenge for my mother’s treatment, but the real reason is that I cannot resist an adventure. If it helps my beloved France, all well and good.’ She flashed him one of her famous smiles. It didn’t melt him this time.
‘And Bowser?’
‘Unpleasant, but useful. Like all men, he has his price. He is greedy for money and hungry for power. We pay him handsomely for his efforts. You know his love of snuff? That is how we reward him – with special snuffboxes. They are all ornamented with valuable stones. If he needs funds, he simply detaches a jewel and sells it.’
‘What about his lost colliers?’ Though death wasn’t far away, Jack was going to have his curiosity satisfied before he went.
‘A mere show. He pretends to pay a ransom and we keep his ships safe until we are ruling this country, and then he will have them back. Everybody believes he hates the French.’
‘And you?’
‘I was sent to be his contact. It was he who arranged for me to join the theatre. Unfortunately, he had to dispose of Miss Hogarth first. I believe Crindle left her floating in the river. Mr Acorn needed a new actress to replace her and he was delighted to take me on when he thought Bowser would see off his debtors, though I flatter myself that Mr Acorn did not need much persuading to engage me.’
Acorn wasn’t the only fool to fall under her spell, Jack reflected ruefully.
‘I can understand Bowser’s greed, but how did you sate his lust for power?’
‘Though he would happily betray anyone for money, in this venture the quest for power is a far more intoxicating drug. When we invade, he will be given a position of authority in the town – deputy to the military governor possibly. And then he can lord it over all the fine families that look down upon him and have done everything they can to thwart him and his ambitions. No doubt he will gleefully take his revenge,’ she said with undisguised distaste.
‘That is why he kept the theatre going?’
‘In part, to keep frustrating his enemies who wanted the theatre back, though, more importantly, I still need a reason to stay until my mission is completed.’
‘And does that mean ravishing Hogg?’ Jack said nastily.
‘I have never ravished Captain Hogg, nor him me.’ To his surprise, Jack felt exhilarated at her confession. Not that it really mattered now. ‘I have merely charmed vital information out of him about deployments of troops, coastal defensive positions, military plans and the like. With the knowledge Bowser has also collected through his numerous business connections, this north-east coast will make an ideal area for the invasion. It is also near enough for disaffected Scotchmen to join our banner.’
Jack listened to her talking breezily about the most dangerous invasion plans since the Armada, yet he took nothing in. She hadn’t shared Hogg’s bed. The thought swirled around in his head. He just had to ask: ‘Have you given yourself to anyone in Newcastle?’ he interrupted.
Such a question, coming out of the blue, caught Catherine by surprise. Her smooth features wore a perplexed expression. ‘Is it important to you, Jack?’
‘As I am about to die, yes.’
‘The answer is no, though Mr Acorn made his intentions clear.’
No accompanying smile this time. Her eyes engaged his. ‘There is only one person who has laid claim to my affections during my time here – and that is you, Jack.’
His heart thumped like an excited child who has been told of a wonderful treat in store. ‘So why have you led me here?’ The question carried no venom, no rebuke. He would die bravely (well, he would try not to scream too loudly) if he knew why the woman he worshipped had betrayed him.
‘Oh, Jack, you left me no choice. Did I not try and warn you on more than one occasion? Did I not give you money so that you could escape? I have already saved your life once. When Bowser planned the attack on you, he wanted you dead because he saw you as a danger – I had to tell him, Jack, that you’d been in the house when he murdered Acorn. But I made him assure me that Crindle would not kill you. I wanted you to be beaten just enough to dissuade you from investigating further. Of course, at that time, I did not realise how brave and bold you are. Afterwards, I was horrified to see what had been done to you when I visited the Infirmary. Yet you continued to press on, regardless of your own safety. That is why I admire you so. As soon as I knew that you had cleverly pieced together that Bowser had murdered Acorn, I tried to get you to quit the town. Then when you came with the tea caddy and you told me that you knew about the meeting, I could no longer protect you. Your knowledge was too great, putting our plans and our lives in jeopardy. It grieves me to see you thus, but the matter is out of my hands.’
Jack wanted to rant at her, plead with her, make her feel guilty for what she had done to him, make her admit that she loved him. Each emotion fought for a voice. He could say nothing. It was his own bloody fault he was sitting strapped to a rough wooden chair in a smelly warehouse, surrounded by French spies, and not the slightest chance of being rescued from certain death. At that moment, Newcastle didn’t have anything to recommend it.