emphasize our strengths.”
“So?”
“I’m simply mindful that, as dance-steps go, the ones you have us moving through are very interdependent, and come in quick sequence.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that we’d better not stumble. Not once. And the Spanish had better not change the music in the middle of the dance.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. We can definitely do without any surprises, but that’s why I’ve got two of your Hibernians in reserve, for a base of supporting fire that we can redirect like a fire brigade. The attack plan doesn’t depend on our full offensive superiority; I’ve held that card back as our ace in the hole. If the Spanish do try to change the music somehow, we’ll change it right back.”
If you can, thought Thomas but said nothing.
“And I’ve given a lot of thought to quick extraction, as well,” continued Harry. “We’ll want a small force watching the boats. That same force could also work as a kind of free safety to smack down any other Spanish units that might try to block our escape route. But Sherrilyn has made a pretty good survey of the area: Borja doesn’t have any garrisons nearby. He’s keeping most of his forces concentrated near the Holy City, and the rest billeted in a couple of dispersed, satellite locations. The nearest of those is ten minutes away, assuming they are moving at a flat-out run the whole time. Meaning we should have twenty minutes before anyone else could reasonably hear the noise, get a team together, and come join the party. And if this operation takes more than seven minutes from the first shots, then we are all under-performing in a big way. The fact of the matter is the Crew has often tackled bigger jobs with fewer resources, so I’m thinking we have a nice safety margin in place for this op.”
North nodded. “Very well, then. Who’s in charge of the boat and extraction overwatch team?”
“You are, Thomas.”
Oh, now wait a minute- “I see. And what led you to that decision, Harry?” North tried very hard to keep any tone of challenge out of his voice.
“Okay, now, Tom; simmer down. Yeah, I’d feel that way too. But someone has to be watching our backs and keeping the exit open. You’re careful and you’ve got a nose for when things are going wrong or getting tight, and that’s exactly the kind of instincts we’ll need in a free safety.”
“And which you need even more on the line, so that you’ll get the earliest possible whiff of trouble.”
Lefferts smiled. “Right you are. Which is why Owen is going to be up front with us.” He nodded at the colonel of the Wild Geese. “He’s the oldest and wisest among us. And he’s also one hell of a toe-to-toe fighter, as I’d heard and have now seen.”
Owen smiled at the compliment. Thomas bit his lip. Owen was not particularly cautious, just more so than John. Which wasn’t hard to achieve. But as a sassenach, there was no way for North to win an appeal to swap roles with Owen, or even broach the topic without arousing suspicions of bigotry. Or accusations of petty displeasure over being excluded from the attack force. Besides, Harry’s plan was actually thorough and clever-but still, Thomas had misgivings, the nagging sense that they were missing something. Or maybe that was just his own sour grapes at being consigned to the rearguard. North’s throat felt like sandpaper as he made himself ask, “How many and which people are on my extraction team?”
“Five, other than yourself. Two of your own Hibernians for security. Doc Connal in case we’re coming back with casualties, one lefferti for interacting with any locals, and one of Juliet’s little fellas to run messages and sneak around, keeping an eye out.”
It was said that Caesar had conquered Gaul with less. “Fine,” Thomas replied.
“Any other concerns?” Harry leaned forward to pour himself a little wine.
The voice that answered was a surprise to all. “Well, I’ve a personal concern, Harry.” It was John O’Neill.
“Really? Wassamatter, John?”
“Oh, nothing with the plan. More a concern with one of the skills I’ll be needing. I’m not a reliable hand with these pepperbox revolvers, yet. Haven’t had the benefit of any truly competent training in it, I’m afraid.”
Beside North, Sean Connal reddened briefly, then eased back in his seat with a small sigh and a rapid return of his normal color. A few of the Wild Geese looked at the doctor: if they had expected to see him finally, finally, lose his patience and make some cutting (if oblique) rejoinder to John’s outrageous implication, they were surprised by the young man’s continued calm.
If Harry caught any of that suppressed inter-Irish friction, he gave no sign of it. “Aw, no worries, John. Give me five minutes of your time and you’ll be an old hand with the clunky bastard.” He extended his palm; John O’Neill put his pepperbox upon it. “Now, John, let’s get to the heart of the problem, which I’m guessing is reloading.”
John smiled and watched, but not comfortably, North noticed. He hoped the earl would take the time to practice what he was learning. Practice it until he could wield the pepperbox as easily as his sword, could load, unload, reload in his sleep.
But North rather doubted that would happen.
As Harry repaired to a larger table where he could provide a detailed explanation of the rules of poker to the Wild Geese, John made to follow him. Owen slipped close to his much younger cousin.
“John, do you really think Harry’s plan is in trim with our own orders?”
“What do you mean?”
“John, Fernando and Isabella made it clear that they were none too pleased with us acting in concert with the Wrecking Crew and the USE at all. But they understood the necessity, both of the moment and in the larger scope of the Low Countries’ future relations with the up-timers. It’s not the time for any of us to look like ingrates. But Isabella particularly stressed that we stay mostly in positions to support the attack, not be at the forefront of it ourselves. And that’s just where we’ve been put: leading the charge into the Palazzo Giacomo’s courtyard.”
John looked like he was going to spit in disgust. “I’ll not have my hands tied by that nervous old biddy’s apron-strings. Our courage is needed-wanted-here.”
“Our courage may be, but our faces are not. Think on it, John: what happens if one of us is killed or captured, particularly you, or me? Borja-and through him, Philip-could learn that we were here.”
“So what of it?” John restively loosened his sword in its scabbard, as he looked over at the poker lesson that was starting. “Philip’s abandoned us. It’s high time that we abandon him.”
Always spleen first, brain last, with you, isn’t it, Johnnie? “Yes-maybe that’s how it is for us. But Fernando and Isabella still receive some reales from Philip. It’s a tense situation between the two courts, and there’s a conflict of interest, but still no hostility between the king of Spain and the new king in the Low Countries. Not yet. But if our involvement here were to come to light-”
“It won’t,” snapped John. “It may be a bold plan, but it’s a good plan. Even the sassenach said so.”
Yes, he did-but I can see he has the same indefinite misgivings that I do, Owen thought, but said instead, “And so it is a good plan, but, given our employers’ explicit concerns, we shouldn’t be assigned to the main assault force.”
John turned, the lack of expression on his face all the more chilling because that bluff countenance was typically open and immediate in transmitting the state of the earl of Tyrone’s somewhat tempestuous heart. “Owen, if you’ve grown too old to be comfortable leading men in a head-long charge, then maybe it’s time for you to put down your sword and pick up a pen. As our quartermaster, or the like.”
Owen hardly knew how to respond. If those words had come from any other man on the face of the Earth, it would have meant a challenge and one of their deaths. He exhaled slowly, carefully, “I’m to be following orders, not the path of a coward, Lord O’Neill.”
“Suit yourself. Maybe there’s no cowardice in you. So, who’s to blame? I guess it’s Isabella and Fernando who haven’t the nerve to stand tall and fight openly for what they believe. No stain upon your honor or good name, then-not even for continuing to obey people who’ve admitted that, for almost thirty years, they’ve used us worse than a tinker’s forgotten dog. There. Feel better, now?” And he swaggered off, making sure for the second time that his sword was loose in its scabbard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
