The Piccadilly Plot (23 page)

‘I have been expecting you,’ Thurloe said, as Chaloner materialised out of the gloom and fell into step beside him. It was
not raining, but the garden had endured a good soaking during the night, and the paths were soggy underfoot. ‘I want you to
purchase a handgun for yourself.’

‘Why?’ asked Chaloner suspiciously.

‘Because this case has a dangerous feel, and a sword is no defence against firearms. Here is a purse. No, do not refuse it
– it is not my silver, it is Fitzgerald’s. He did not best me
every
time I tackled him, and I have been saving it for a time when it might be used against him. Which is now.’

Chaloner accepted reluctantly. Not only did he dislike taking money from friends, regardless of its provenance, but he had
never been comfortable with the unpredictability of guns. They were, however, obscenely expensive, and he certainly could
not have afforded to purchase one on his own salary.

‘Tell me what you have learned,’ instructed Thurloe, after they had walked in silence for a while, their footsteps alternately
crunching and squelching.

‘That Fitzgerald has a master. Unfortunately, no one seems to know who he is.’

Thurloe nodded. ‘I suspected as much. I shall ask my old spies for a name. What else?’

‘He said he had scored a great victory over his “enemies” – presumably the men who oppose the Piccadilly Company – in revenge
for Reyner, and it seems he arranged the deaths of Turner and Lucas. He probably tossed Proby off the roof of St Paul’s, too.
Certainly, he believes that Reyner was killed in retaliation. And Proby, Turner and Lucas were Adventurers …’

‘So Fitzgerald’s foes – listed on the Vigenère cipher – are Adventurers? I thought the Adventurers were respectable men, not
the kind to engage in tit-for-tat killings with pirates.’

‘Secretary Leighton is not respectable! He is alleged
to have accrued vast wealth by criminal means. Moreover, most Adventurers are courtiers, and the words “courtier” and “respectable”
are mutually exclusive. However, we shall know for certain when you decode the cipher.’

‘I am afraid I cannot. I worked on it all night, but it is beyond me. So I sent a copy to John Wallis, who was my code-breaker
during the Commonwealth. If he cannot crack it, no one can.’

Chaloner hoped it would not take long. ‘So we have two commercial operations at war with each other – the Adventurers and
the Piccadilly Company. The Adventurers have lost three of their number, and the Piccadilly Company has lost one.’

Thurloe was thoughtful. ‘The Adventurers comprise wealthy courtiers and merchants, and include men such as the Duke of Buckingham,
Congett, Secretary Leighton and several members of your Earl’s household – Hyde, Brodrick, Dugdale and Edgeman. They have
declared a monopoly on trading with Africa, and are greedy but inefficient.’

‘Meanwhile, the Piccadilly Company comprises a pirate, a Dutch couple, a Portuguese, two Tangier scouts, Harley’s sister,
Pratt and the enigmatic Mr Jones. They send glassware to New England and bring gravel back – a venture that necessitates hiring
Brinkes to ensure secrecy.’

‘Their sea-routes lie in opposite directions,’ mused Thurloe. ‘And they deal in different commodities. They should not be
rivals, yet they are killing each other. It makes no sense.’

Chaloner’s mind wandered to the mysteries he had been ordered to solve, and the way the two organisations featured in them.
‘I have four cases – Cave’s death, the Tangier massacre, the Queen’s letters about Pratt, and
the stolen bricks. They are so different that they should be unrelated, yet there are strands linking each one to the others.’

‘Explain,’ ordered Thurloe.

‘First Cave. He and Elliot stabbed each other in a duel over Brilliana. She is Harley’s sister, and they live in Piccadilly.
So does Pratt, whose latest house is the victim of stolen supplies, and who himself may be the target of an assassination.’

‘And Pratt is a member of the Piccadilly Company,’ mused Thurloe. ‘As is Harley.’

‘Harley is also one of the scouts whose intelligence sent Teviot to his death. Moreover, Elliot was Williamson’s spy, and
his duties entailed monitoring the Crown. His wife – his
deranged
wife – lives in the Crown’s garret. And Cave sang duets with Fitzgerald, another member of the Piccadilly Company. Then there
is the connection between Elliot and Pepperell.’

‘Who?’

‘The captain of
Eagle –
Elliot’s friend Lester thinks it suspicious that two sea-officers should die within such a short space of time of each other.
Pepperell was murdered by Brinkes – the man charged with ensuring that Piccadilly Company meetings are not disturbed. I will
hunt down Brilliana today, to see what she can tell me about her dead lovers – and about her brother, too. Lester is also
looking into it, on Williamson’s behalf.’

‘Lester,’ said Thurloe disapprovingly. ‘Stay away from him. I distrust him intensely.’

‘Do you? I rather like him.’

‘Oh, I am sure he is charm itself. However, do not forget that he was present at the beginning of the spat that saw Elliot
and Cave dead.’

‘He tried to stop them from fighting, and was almost killed when Cave lunged at him.’

‘And that is suspect in itself. I sensed something devious about him the first time we met – years ago, when we were both
much younger. Do not trust him, Tom.’

Chaloner nodded, but although he usually respected Thurloe’s insights, he was inclined to dismiss this one. Of all the people
he had met since returning from Tangier, Lester was by far the most personable.

‘The second case is Teviot,’ he went on. ‘He and his garrison died because Harley, Newell and Reyner gave him misleading information.
All are members of the Piccadilly Company, but Reyner was murdered within hours of agreeing to tell me what happened at the
ambush on Jews Hill. He gave his mother that list of the Piccadilly Company’s enemies.’

‘Which probably comprises the names of specific Adventurers,’ surmised Thurloe.

‘Then Reyner’s mother was murdered, and her list stolen. Fitzgerald says the killer will have his just deserts next Wednesday
– St Frideswide’s Day – because his master has a plan.’

‘Pratt’s murder?’ asked Thurloe. ‘Or are we talking about a different plot?’

‘It must be a different one. I had the feeling that he expects something truly catastrophic, and the death of an architect
– no matter how valuable Pratt thinks himself – is hardly that. But this is the third case: the letters. I have questioned
the Queen’s staff, but learned nothing useful. However, Pratt hobnobs with the Piccadilly Company
and
the Adventurers. And he lives in the Crown.’

‘How will you proceed with that particular investigation?’

‘Spend time in White Hall, asking more questions of more people. The last case is the Earl’s stolen bricks – connected to
the others by virtue of its architect and its location in Piccadilly. I have no idea who the culprits might be, and I suspect
his materials will continue to go missing until the damned place is finished.’

‘Pity,’ said Thurloe. ‘Because I imagine that is the one your Earl would most like solved. You must visit the place as often
as possible, and interview Pratt, Oliver and their workmen. Something will occur to you eventually, you will see.’

Chaloner was not so sure, but felt it was the least of his worries. ‘Perhaps you should tell Williamson to arrest Fitzgerald,
on the grounds that his master might not be able to put this diabolical plot into action if his chief henchman is unavailable.’

‘Lawyers would have him free within the hour – suspicion and rumour is not solid evidence. No, Tom. It is better to leave
him alone, because if he goes to ground, we will never thwart him.’

‘If you say so,’ said Chaloner unhappily.

The day that followed was not very successful. Chaloner arrived at White Hall to find Dugdale waiting. The Chief Usher looked
decidedly fragile, with bloodshot eyes and a sallow complexion. So did the Earl’s secretary Edgeman, who was sipping some
sort of tonic as he sat at his desk.

‘Good,’ Dugdale whispered when he saw Chaloner. ‘When you have finished telling me what you have learned about the stolen
supplies, you will go to the Tennis Court. The Duke of Buckingham has challenged Mr O’Brien to a bout, and the Earl wants
a representative from his household to be there.’

‘I suspect he would rather I hunted the brick-thief.’ Chaloner spoke deliberately loudly.

‘That is why he wants you to go to the game,’ said Dugdale, wincing as he put a hand to his head. ‘All his enemies will be
there, and you will eavesdrop, to learn which of them is the culprit. This order comes directly from him, so you
will
obey it.’

‘But it is a bad idea,’ objected Chaloner. ‘First, the Tennis Court is too open for eavesdropping. And second, most of his
enemies know me, so will watch what they say when I am near.’

‘Then you will have to find a way around it.’ Dugdale smirked unpleasantly. ‘But do not take too long – if you fail, you may
find yourself jobless.’

‘Leave him alone, you two,’ said Kipps, arriving suddenly, and as bright and energetic as the Chief Usher and secretary were
seedy. ‘I am tired of you baiting him all the time.’

Dugdale ignored him. ‘Make your report to me, Chaloner, and then be about your duties.’

‘Significant headway has been made,’ lied Chaloner vaguely.

‘Good,’ said Kipps, before the Chief Usher could remark that this was insufficient. He regarded Dugdale coolly. ‘
I
shall pass the news to the Earl – we do not want it garbled in the retelling, do we?’ He turned back to Chaloner. ‘Have you
uncovered anything about the villain who sent those letters to the Queen? That is the most serious matter, as far as I am
concerned. I like the woman.’

‘Really?’ asked Dugdale scathingly. ‘I thought your tastes ran more towards Lady Castlemaine.’

‘Did you enjoy yourself at the brothel last night,
Dugdale?’ asked Chaloner, speaking loudly again, this time in the hope that the Earl would hear. ‘You and Edgeman?’

Edgeman regarded him in alarm, while Kipps’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment.

‘You spied on us?’ demanded Dugdale, shocked. ‘How dare you! Get out, before I commission some of my friends to teach you
a lesson.’

‘Friends like Fitzgerald the pirate?’ asked Chaloner, unmoved. ‘Or Harley, the scout whose faulty intelligence saw five hundred
men dead? You were certainly in their company last night.’

‘We do not know them,’ said Edgeman quickly, while Dugdale spluttered with outrage. ‘But your remarks suggest that
you
were in this brothel, and I am telling the Earl. He will not believe that Dugdale and I frequent such places, but you are
another matter entirely.’

He was right, and Chaloner suspected that his attempt to combat their bullying had just misfired. He had only mentioned Fitzgerald
and Harley in an effort to disconcert them, but Edgeman’s denial made him think again:
could
the secretary and Chief Usher be associated with the Piccadilly Company? As most of its thirty members wore disguises, it
was impossible to say who attended its meetings. Or did being Adventurers preclude them from joining, on the grounds that
the two groups were at loggerheads?

He bowed a curt farewell, and started to walk to the Tennis Court, although he stopped abruptly when an uncomfortable thought
occurred to him: should he be wary of Kipps? The Seal Bearer had admitted that his application to join the Adventurers had
been rejected, so had he promptly thrown in his lot with their rivals?
Moreover, he should not have known about the Queen’s letters, because the Earl – in a rare display of discretion – had kept
the matter within his family. Did that imply Kipps had another reason for knowing, namely that he was involved in the matter
himself?

The notion was not a happy one, and Chaloner was grateful he had Thurloe’s friendship, because he was otherwise quite alone.

As Chaloner had anticipated, eavesdropping was hopeless at the Tennis Court. It was dangerous, too, because the Earl’s enemies
had gathered in force, and Chaloner was jostled, pinched and poked but did not dare retaliate, because at least twenty men
with swords would have been delighted to fight him if he had. Individually, they posed no threat, but en masse they were a
distinct menace.

The bullies included the big-nosed Congett, who was either still drunk from the night before, or had started imbibing afresh
that morning; he ‘accidentally’ trod on Chaloner’s foot. Lady Castlemaine and the Duke of Buckingham confined themselves to
verbal abuse, while others fingered the guns they wore in their belts or pretended to inspect their knives.

Then Kipps appeared, and although he explained in an undertone that he was there to help Chaloner eavesdrop, he promptly took
himself off to sit in a corner with the Adventurer Grey, who seemed to have recovered from his earlier grief and was smiling.

‘Stop!’ cried O’Brien, hurrying forward when Congett elbowed Chaloner hard enough to make him stumble. ‘It is not his fault
that Clarendon is an ill-mannered brute. Leave him be.’

‘Especially as he plays the viol like an angel,’ said
Kitty, smiling first at Chaloner and then at his tormentors. The spy suspected he was not the only one whose heart melted.
‘In fact, we must organise another soirée, so all our talented friends can exhibit their musical skills.’

There was a smattering of applause, although Chaloner imagined her admirers would prefer something more rambunctious; most
of them had been at Temperance’s club the previous night.

‘Speaking of invitations, the King has asked us to a drama in the Banqueting House,’ said O’Brien, clearly delighted. ‘A Turkish
one. What fun! I can hardly wait! I shall wear a pair of—’

‘Never mind that,’ interrupted Buckingham briskly. He turned to Chaloner with a malevolent grin. ‘Is it true that Clarendon
has taken to spending his nights under a tarpaulin, guarding his bricks and nails?’

‘No,’ replied Chaloner, once the spiteful laughter had died down. ‘He pays others to do it for him. His supplies are now extremely
well protected, and anyone raiding them will be caught.’