‘We had to gag her, you see, because she made a terrible din,’ Mr Egerton explained. ‘Quite the most vocal woman I have ever met, I fear.’
‘Bethany …’ Jack stepped forward, but the woman pressed the blade of her knife further under his chin.
‘Bethany Tarver, you see, just as I promised,’ the woman said, looking up, smiling. Her English had improved markedly, although she spoke with a noticeable accent that had nothing to do with Malta. Swiftly covering her upper body with a shawl, she tossed back her hair with a flick of her head.
‘Sit down, Mr Tarver, if you please,’ Mr Egerton suggested, jerking his head towards a hard seat with a curved back.
‘What in God’s name is this all about?’
‘Sit down, Mr Tarver, and don’t play the innocent with me.’ Mr Egerton no longer looked bemused and incapable. His lanky figure appeared more like a predatory spider and his hands were very deft as he removed Jack’s telescope and tied him to a chair using expert knots. His eyes were as hard as anything Jack had seen.
‘Now, Mr Tarver, or may I call you Jack?’
‘Mr Tarver will be better,’ Jack said. He looked across to Bethany. Save for her bonds, she looked none the worse. ‘Bethany …’
‘Your wife is quite all right, Mr Tarver, I assure you.’ Mr Egerton gave a bleak smile. ‘But she might want to know what you were doing poking around the Manderaggio as soon as her back was turned.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Mr Tarver, I am astonished at you! Following half-naked women into places without a tinge of respectability.’
‘If you hurt her …’ Jack began, but Mr Egerton shook his head.
‘I promise you, Mr Tarver, that nobody will be harmed so long as I get the key.’
The woman glanced at Jack, moved closer and whipped back his cloak. Smiling, she removed the pistols from his waistband. ‘Thank you, Mr Tarver,’ she said softly. ‘But do you have anything else hidden from me?’ She glanced over to Bethany. ‘You don’t mind if I search your husband, do you, Mrs Tarver?’ Her laugh was cut short by a noise from outside and she held up a hand. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘The soldiers are looking again.’
There was the sound of tramping boots, somebody banging at their front door and a loud shout. ‘Mrs Tarver! Jack Tarver!’
‘Damn them. Your friends are persistent,’ Mr Egerton said quietly. ‘All right, so we shall continue this conversation elsewhere.’ He pointed to Jack. ‘You first, and if you make any sort of trouble I swear that Elizabeth here will chop your clacking wife to pieces. Show him, Elizabeth.’
Flourishing her knife, the woman stepped towards Bethany and pretended to slash her across the face. Bethany flinched but said nothing as the blade passed within half an inch of her nose.
‘You understand?’
‘I understand,’ Jack agreed. Seeing Bethany like that had taken all the fight from him. When his legs were untied, he meekly followed after Mr Egerton, glancing backwards to make sure that Bethany was safe.
She nodded, trying to convey a message with her eyes alone.
‘Come on!’ Mr Egerton ordered, and Elizabeth shoved him so he stumbled back through the courtyard and into another door. Something scurried around his feet and he kicked out, but Elizabeth grunted and pushed him again.
‘Keep moving, Jack Tarver,’ she ordered.
‘Where are we going?’
There was another door in that mediaeval labyrinth, a short corridor and the relief of fresh air, as they emerged at the side of the Quarantine Harbour, the ships’ lights close and achingly familiar. He wondered if he should yell for help, but the thought of Bethany, tied and vulnerable, stilled his voice and he stumbled on.
‘Down there!’ Mr Egerton pointed to a handy two-masted boat that was moored beside the quay, its rigging singing softly in the breeze and a long bowsprit gently rocking.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Out to sea,’ Mr Egerton told him. ‘Where there are no witnesses and no interruptions. If you don’t produce the key, then it’s overboard for you and a long swim back.’ His smile revealed large teeth. ‘We’ll keep Bethany a little longer.’
‘You release her or you’ll never get anything from me!’ Jack roared, turning against Elizabeth, but Mr Egerton drove a hard fist into his kidneys. Flaring agony forced him to his knees, then Elizabeth kicked him hard in the stomach.
‘If we get nothing from you,’ Mr Egerton said quietly, ‘then I’ll release Elizabeth on Bethany.’
Jack glared his hatred, but he knew he would reveal everything to save Bethany.
‘You could tell us now,’ Mr Egerton suggested, ‘and spare us a lot of trouble.’
‘On the boat,’ Elizabeth spoke softly. ‘There are too many people here, and the soldiers could come back.’
It was a short drop from the quay to the deck, and Jack felt himself pushed down into a tiny space, stinking of damp and tar.
‘The cable locker,’ Mr Egerton explained. ‘You’ll be safe here.’
‘And Bethany? Where is my wife?’ Jack tried to twist around, but Elizabeth was there, pushing him.
‘She’ll be safe as long as you do as you’re told.’
‘I’ve no idea what you want,’ Jack began, but Mr Egerton only stared at him and banged shut the door.
‘Don’t you hurt her!’ Jack roared. He struggled with his bonds, trying to reach around with his fingertips, but achieving nothing. He cursed, hating himself for leaving Bethany alone in a strange place. He swore, as thoughts jumbled around his head, each one more alarming than the last.
What was this all about? He had come to Malta to build a road, a simple engineering project that would take a few months and earn him some money, and now he had become embroiled with the Knights of St John and treasure and international politics, to say nothing of Mr Egerton’s folly. Just where did that strange man fit in? Was he working for the Knights, or was he an agent of Dover’s? Jack leaned back his head and groaned. Either was possible, and neither gave him any comfort.
Jack could feel the vessel rocking quite wildly now, so it must have been well clear of the Grand Harbour and out at sea. He could hear the slap of waves on the hull, and the creak and groan of the wood all around him. He sighed again, wondering how some people lived quiet, ordinary lives, while he seemed to lurch from crisis to crisis, with some new adventure ready to disturb his equanimity. Yet he was not an adventurous man; he just wanted to live with Bethany in their own house in Hereford, working hard and earning enough money to keep poverty at bay.
‘In here!’ The door thumped open and somebody stood over him, the figure a silhouette against the harsh light of a lantern.
Hard hands hauled him up and sliced through his bonds, as somebody knelt beside him. ‘Good evening, Mr Tarver. I seem to be making a habit of rescuing you!’
Squinting against the light, Jack looked once more into the sardonic face of John Dover.