Ratcatcher

James Read, sensing the change of mood, threw a meaningful look at Jago. “Come now, you need rest and time to gather your strength. We’ll talk again soon. Everything will be made clear. You’ll join me, Sergeant?”

Jago nodded, but before he left he moved to the bed. He bent low and spoke low so that only Hawkwood could hear. “Remember what we talked about, Cap’n? Bleedin’ generals. They tell you nothing. You and me, that’s all that matters.” He touched Hawkwood lightly on the arm and followed the Chief Magistrate out of the room.

Ezra Twigg looked up and smiled as Hawkwood entered the ante-room. “Why, Mr Hawkwood! A pleasure to see you back, sir. And looking very fit, if I may say so.”

“Good to see you, too, Ezra. He’s in, I take it?”

The clerk nodded towards the inner door. “He is, and he’s waiting for you.”

Hawkwood entered the office. There were three men present: James Read, Colonel William Congreve and a stranger. They were in conversation but fell silent and looked up as Hawkwood entered.

“Ah, Hawkwood, there you are.” The Chief Magistrate stepped out from behind his desk.

The Colonel smiled. “Captain! Good to see you! Fully recovered from your adventures, I trust? Excellent! Capital!”

“Colonel,” Hawkwood said, shaking the proffered hand.

The stranger was regarding Hawkwood with interest. Hawkwood returned the examination. The man was tall, with a strong, sun-browned face and penetrating blue eyes.

“Officer Hawkwood, Captain Thomas Johnstone.”

Johnstone nodded but did not offer his hand.

Captain? Hawkwood thought.

The magistrate moved towards the door. “Thank you, Captain Johnstone. That will be all for now. The Colonel will contact you in due course. My clerk will see you out.” Read opened the door. “Mr Twigg?”

Johnstone did not seem in the least put out by the abruptness of his departure. He left without a backward glance.

The Colonel’s expression was benign, but Hawkwood had the distinct feeling that the colonel did not set much store in Johnstone’s character.

Read returned to his desk. The Colonel moved to one of the chairs and sat down. The magistrate did not offer Hawkwood a seat. He seemed preoccupied with his thoughts. Finally he spoke: “We discovered what Lee meant by friends in high places.”

Hawkwood waited. The Colonel shifted in his chair.

“It was Admiral Dalryde.”

Dalryde! An Admiralty Board member. No wonder

Congreve looked uncomfortable, Hawkwood thought.

“It appears the Admiral had amassed rather heavy gambling debts,” Congreve continued. “His main creditor was White’s. It was his gambling losses that brought him to the attention of a fellow club member.”

“Mandrake?” Hawkwood ventured.

Read nodded. “Indeed, and it was Mandrake who introduced him to the woman. The Admiral told Mandrake you were the officer I’d assigned to the case. He was at Mandrake House the night of the ball.”

The shadow in the bushes, Hawkwood thought. His jaw tightened at the memory.

“Do not reproach yourself, Hawkwood. There was no way you could have known. The woman’s a skilled courtesan. She has considerable charms and knows how to use them. In Admiral Dalryde’s case, she used her wiles to manipulate him into providing her with information. In exchange for her favours and the promise that his debts would be covered, the Admiral gave her details of the naval courier’s travel arrangements, the date of Thetis’s departure from the Deptford yard, and the progress of our enquiries into both the coach robbery and Officer Warlock’s murder. The latter investigation, of course, held special interest because of its connection to the deployment of the submersible.”

“The bastard was right under our noses!” The colonel slammed a fist against his knee and stood up. Restlessly, he began to pace the room.

“I take it we arrested him?” Hawkwood said.

Read nodded.

“So he’ll be charged with treason,” Hawkwood said.

Read shook his head.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because the bugger beat us to it,” the colonel snapped.

Hawkwood looked to the magistrate for an explanation.

“The admiral hanged himself in his cell this morning.”

“God’s teeth! What about Mandrake? Don’t tell me he’s cheated the hangman, too.”

James Read placed his palms flat on the desk. He pushed himself to his feet. “My Lord Mandrake boarded a ship at Liverpool and took passage to the Americas. I’m afraid Runner Lightfoot returned empty-handed.”

Hawkwood didn’t believe what he was hearing. And he knew he still had to ask the obvious question. It wasn’t something he could put aside. “And the woman?”

“Ah, she is being held, I’m happy to say. And she’s under constant watch. Before he killed himself, Dalryde was questioned. He was kind enough to reveal Lee’s escape plans. We were able to board the Dutchman and impound her. The crew has been transferred to the hulks.”

“So,” Hawkwood said, “who the hell is she?”

Read frowned.

“I’m assuming,” Hawkwood said, “that she’s not really the Marquise de Varesne.”

“Ah,” Read nodded in understanding. “Well, you assume correctly. The lady’s name is Gabrielle Marceau, and she’s certainly no aristo—though there’s no doubt she played the part to perfection. She is, or rather was, a house servant.”

“House servant?”

“To the real marquise. Which is how she was able to wear the mantle with such aplomb. It seems her family was employed on the Varesne estates for several generations. She became a companion to the marquis’s daughter. They were of a similar age and I understand she did bear an uncanny resemblance to the real Catherine. A resemblance which the Directory and latterly Bonaparte’s intelligence service used to full advantage.”

“And the real Catherine?”

James Read’s expression hardened. “Dead, I fear, along with her mother and father and, I gather, a younger brother. Madame Guillotine is no respecter of youth. The entire family was erased in the Terror. Which made it easier for Mademoiselle to assume the role. A part she’s been playing for some time with considerable success. My sources tell me she is highly regarded by her employers.”

“It’s a pity your sources didn’t tell you that a lot earlier,” Hawkwood said. “It would have saved us a deal of trouble.”

The Chief Magistrate nodded. “I’ll not disagree with you.”

“And no one was aware of the deception?”

“Anyone who might have known the family or discovered her secret is dead, killed during the purges. Either that or eliminated in the event a suspicion was raised. She was well protected. She was…is…one of their best agents. Her speciality was infiltrating the Royalist underground. She was able to provide Bonaparte’s intelligence service with names of Bourbon sympathizers, prior warnings of assassination attempts, invasion plans and so forth. She was ideally placed to co-ordinate Lee’s attack on Thetis.”

“And now we’ve got her.”

“Indeed,” Read said.

“So they’ll hang her, at least.”

But again, to Hawkwood’s astonishment, the magistrate shook his head.

“But it’s not just Lee she was involved with! The bitch killed two people! She shot the coachman and she stabbed Master Woodburn to death!”

The cold-blooded manner of the old man’s death had shaken Hawkwood more than he cared to admit. Lee had said he had not wanted to leave Hawkwood’s body at the warehouse as evidence. It had been his reason for