Renzi continued, in a brighter tone, 'For one in the character of a businessman, I'm surprised you do not see the opportunity before you of enabling a helpless and frustrated navy before the invasion ports to enter unseen and put paid to the flotillas skulking within. For this power they will pay much, I'm persuaded.' Renzi pushed the vision. 'In course, you will conjure such a fleet of submarine boats as will astonish mankind. Should you be paid by results, as you wish, then the elimination of two thousand invasion craft—'
'You're speaking for the British Admiralty?'
'Not at all. I speak for His Maj—the government of Great Britain, the prime minister, sir.'
Fulton paced about the room. 'If such a thing were possible, it could only be under a copper-bottomed business contract that sees me in charge, and be damned to pettifogging interference.'
'Can there be any other way? We speak of results—what better way to secure them than to place the responsibility entirely in your hands.' Renzi smiled ironically. 'You will appreciate that the practice of business is not entirely dissimilar in our two nations.'
Fulton scowled but said nothing.
A thought suddenly struck Renzi, one that appealed to his romantic streak. The submarine: how fitting—how exciting it would be if they were to make their dramatic escape in it from Napoleon's clutches safely to the open sea beneath the waves!
'Er, incidentally, where do you keep
'She is no more.'
'Oh.'
Fulton turned his face away. 'To keep myself I was constrained to break her up, sell the pipes and cylinders, all the ironwork.' 'I'm sorry to hear it,' Renzi said softly, the vision fading.
'The French were in a right taking when they heard about it.' He grinned sourly.
As well they might be, thought Renzi. Without a working specimen, everything lay out of reach, confined within Fulton's fertile brain. It explained why they had held off seizing what they wanted and were now applying more subtle pressures.
Renzi gave what he hoped was a look of sincere sympathy. 'No more than they deserve. A disgraceful treatment of a distinguished man of engineering. You will find that we British will—'
'You British!' Fulton snarled. 'Have a care, sir—I've said naught about toadying up to King George, as I remember.'
'Nor should you!' Renzi came back swiftly. 'As we both know, it is in the nature of a business arrangement only.'
Fulton stalked away and stood glowering out of the window.
'Above all things,' Renzi said, 'you will agree that while you remain here you stand small chance of seeing your sea dreams realised. A firm contract with my government means you could be building within the month.'
There was no visible response. 'Mr. Fulton, if—'
'You're asking I take up with the losing side,' Fulton retorted acidly.
'Do you not have confidence in your own device of war, sir?' Renzi replied coolly.
'I'll think on it.'
'Sir, I must press you to—'
'I said I'd think on it, damn you!'
'An understanding, perhaps, that—'
'Get out! Before I tip off your friend yonder.'
Renzi drew himself up. 'Very well. Should you desire to discuss terms then, er, I shall be in touch. Good day to you, Mr. Fulton.'
He turned to go, but Fulton stopped him and pointed to the ceiling. 'I'd advise you leave by that hole—it lets out over the roof,' he said, with a twisted smile. 'No point in letting 'em know who you've been to see.'
'Why, thank you for your concern, sir,' Renzi said.
Fulton grinned. ' Shall we say I've seen my share of creditors?'
It was not until he was halfway back that the full implications of what had happened dawned on him. In effect, for all his efforts and personal danger, Renzi had nothing to show for it. The best that could be said was that he had been right in his insight and that Fulton had listened. Whether this might be turned to advantage was another matter.
Now he was faced with a near insuperable problem: he had slipped his shadow and, for a certainty, would now be trailed closely wherever he went. With Fulton under observation as well, how would they get together to conclude anything, even if the man was receptive?
At the Grandime Hotel he took care to reel in happily, a foolish smile in place, nodding to the silent men at the desk before he hauled himself up the stairs.
He flopped onto his bed and tried to recruit his thoughts. It had all happened so quickly, but at the same time he had achieved only a reconnaissance and, worse, he had lost the ability to continue any negotiations with Fulton. Even if the man could be persuaded, there was still the matter of an exit strategy, an escape route that would keep them ahead of the inevitable hot pursuit—the French would spare nothing to stop them.
Staring up at the dark ceiling he tried to bring together all the threads, but always reached the same conclusion. So near and so far—he could see no way forward on his own.
There was one last move open to him, one that he had been warned was only to be made in extreme circumstances, which did not include personal danger. This was to make contact with the network of agents in Paris, the precious few who remained after the recent catastrophic failure of the plot against Napoleon.
