The second speaker waved. “Ignore her. So Delborough has the letter, and Holkar is therefore compromised. All his own fault. We’ll just have to find another source of men, and the way our recruitment efforts have been progressing lately, I can’t see Holkar as any great loss.”
Silence fell, but it was strained, pregnant with unresolved tension.
The first speaker broke it. “That’s not why we have to get the letter back.”
The man with the deeper voice spoke again. “Why bother? It’s not as if Delborough can make anything more of it than of the other missives of ours his little group has gathered. They don’t contain anything to link you, personally, with the Black Cobra. Any suspicion he bears is simply that-suspicion. Suspicion he won’t dare air.”
“It’s not what’s
“I am. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but what chance was there this letter of all letters-going to Poona-would end back in Bombay, in Delborough’s hands?” The first speaker spread his arms. “It’s bizarre.”
“But what possessed you to write a letter from the Black Cobra and use your own damned seal?” The baritone’s accents were sharply condemnatory.
“It was necessary,” the first speaker snapped. “I had to get the letter off that day, or we would have lost another week-you’ll remember we discussed it. At the time we were desperate for more men, Delborough and his cohorts were making life difficult, and Holkar seemed our best bet. We agreed I should write, and it was urgent. But the Poona courier decided to leave early-the officious beggar actually had the gall to stand in my doorway and watch me finish the letter. He was itching to leave-if I’d ordered him out, told him to close the door and wait outside, he would have left. He was looking for any excuse to go without my letter.”
Still pacing, the first speaker twisted the signet ring on the little finger of his right hand. “Everyone in the office-the damn courier included-knows about my seal ring. With him standing there, I could hardly reach into my pocket, draw out the Black Cobra seal and use it-with him watching my every move. In the circumstances, I decided using my own seal was the lesser of all evils-it’s not as if Holkar doesn’t know who I am.”
“Hmm.” The second speaker sounded resigned. “Well, we can hardly allow you to be exposed.” The second speaker exchanged a glance with the baritone. “That would definitely put a dent in our enterprise. So”-gaze reverting to the pacing man, the second speaker briskly stated, “we’ll just have to locate Delborough and get this incriminating letter back.”
“Delborough and his three remaining colleagues, together with their households, left Bombay two days ago.”
Silence greeted the first speaker’s terse announcement. Once again the three conspirators had gathered in the night-shrouded courtyard-one on the sofa, one in the armchair, the other pacing the terrace above the glimmering pool.
“Indeed?” the second speaker eventually said. “That’s disturbing. Still, I can’t see Hastings acting-”
“They haven’t gone back to Calcutta.” Reaching the end of the terrace, the first speaker swung back. “I told you a week ago-they’ve resigned! They are, by all accounts, heading back to England.”
Another lengthy silence ensued, then the baritone inquired, “Are you sure they’re even bothering with this letter? Easy enough to miss a seal, especially if concentrating on the information inside. They’ve laid hands on similar letters before, and known well enough such documents would get them nowhere.”
“I’d like to believe that-that they’ve given up and are on their way home-believe me, I would.” The first speaker’s agitated pace didn’t ease. “But our spies have reported they met in a back room in some seedy bar in town two days ago. When they came out, each was carrying one of those wooden scroll-holders the locals use to ferry important documents-and then they parted. Went their separate ways. Those four have been together since long before they reached these shores-why would they each go home by completely different routes?”
On the sofa, the second speaker sat straighter. “Do you know which way each has gone?”
“Delborough’s done the obvious-he’s taken a ship of the line to Southampton. Exactly as if he were simply heading home. Hamilton took a sloop to Aden, as if he were ferrying some diplomatic communication along the way-but I’ve checked, and he isn’t. Monteith and Carstairs have vanished. Monteith’s household is due to leave shortly on a company ship for Bournemouth, but he’s not with them and they don’t know where he is. Their orders are to go to an inn outside Bournemouth and to wait there until he comes. Carstairs has only one man, a Pathan who’s as loyal as they come, and they’ve both disappeared. I’ve had all the passenger and crew lists combed, but there’s no sign of anyone who might conceivably be either Monteith or Carstairs leaving Bombay by sea. Larkins believes they’ve gone overland, or at least by land to some other port. He’s put men on their trail, but it’ll be days, perhaps weeks, before we hear if they’ve located them.”
“What orders did you give those you sent after them?” the second speaker asked.
“To kill them, and anyone with them, and above all, to retrieve those bloody scroll-holders.”
“Indeed.” A momentary pause ensued, then the second speaker said, “So we have four men heading to England-one with the original document and three presumably as decoys. If the letter with your seal gets into the wrong hands in England, then we’ll face a very serious problem indeed.”
The second speaker exchanged a glance with the man in the armchair, then looked at the first speaker. “You’re right. We have to get that letter back. You did precisely right in loosing our hounds and sending them on the hunt. However…” After another glance at the other man, the second speaker continued, “I believe, in the circumstances, that we should head home, too. Should our hounds fail us, and Del borough and the other three reach England’s shores, then given the bounty the Black Cobra brings us, it would be wise for us to be there, close to the action, to ensure the original letter never gets into the hands of anyone likely or able to interfere with our enterprise.”
The first speaker nodded. “There’s a fast frigate just in from Calcutta. She’ll be sailing the day after tommorrow for Southampton.”
“Excellent!” The second speaker rose. “Secure passage on it for us and our staffs. Who knows? We might reach Southampton in time to welcome the importunate colonel.”
“Indeed.” The first speaker smiled thinly. “I’ll take great delight in seeing him receive his just reward.”
One
The wind whipped his hair, sent chill fingers sliding beneath his greatcoat collar. From horizon to horizon, the sky was an unrelieved steel-gray, but at least it wasn’t raining; he was thankful for small mercies. After the warmth of India, and the balmy days rounding Africa, the change in temperature as they’d headed north over the last week had been an uncomfortable reminder of the reality of an English winter.
Artfully angled, the ship surged on the tide, aligning with the dock, the distance between lessening with every moment, the raucous cries of wheeling gulls a strident counterpoint to the bellows of the bosun as he directed the crew in the dicey business of bringing the heavy ship alongside the timber dock.
Del scanned the dockside crowd waiting to greet those on board. He was under no illusions; the instant he stepped off the gangplank, the Black Cobra’s game would be afoot again. He felt restless, impatient for action-the same compulsion he was accustomed to feeling in those moments on the battlefield when, with his horse skittish beneath him, held on a tight rein, he would wait with his men for the order to charge. The same anticipation rode him now, yet with sharpened spurs.
