The Piccadilly Plot (48 page)

‘There is a lot of activity on
Katherine
,’ said Lester, peering out of the window. ‘The Adventurers are definitely expected.’

‘If I had the manpower, I would arrest the entire Piccadilly Company,’ said Williamson bitterly. ‘And sort everything out
later. The plot cannot unfold if its perpetrators are behind bars.’

‘Yes, but unfortunately, while you might lay hold of the minions, the master would almost certainly escape,’ Thurloe pointed
out. ‘Besides, I would not recommend
a mass detention of wealthy merchants. You would never hear the end of it.’

‘But
who
is the master?’ said Williamson in anger and frustration. ‘We know it is not Fitzgerald, and Harley is not clever enough.’

‘It must be someone closer to home,’ replied Thurloe, and Chaloner rolled his eyes when he saw his friend look meaningfully
at Lester.

Williamson nodded, although he had not understood the significance of Thurloe’s glance. ‘My favoured suspect at the moment
is Kipps.’

‘Kipps?’ echoed Chaloner warily.

‘He has a habit of appearing in unexpected places,’ explained Williamson. ‘Such as in the Tennis Court at an Adventurers’
gathering, even though he is not a member. And he is very rich, yet they refuse to enrol him. Why, when he seems exactly their
kind of man?’

And that was not all, Chaloner thought but did not say. Kipps had pretended not to notice while Dugdale and Edgeman had rifled
through the Earl’s office in search of God knew what, and he had known about the letters to the Queen, even though Clarendon
and Hyde had kept them secret. Moreover, Frances had mentioned Kipps’ interest in the vault the day Chaloner had been locked
in, and he had eavesdropped when Chaloner had made one of his periodic reports to the Earl. Chaloner was aware of Thurloe
looking at him – he had also voiced suspicions about the Seal Bearer – but he ignored him, not yet ready to consign the affable
Kipps to the role of villain.

‘I thought the culprit might be Meneses,’ said Thurloe, when Chaloner declined to speak. ‘But if he is dead, then I suppose
he must be innocent. He
is
dead, is he not? You are certain?’

Williamson nodded. ‘Personally, I am suspicious of Dugdale and Edgeman. The Adventurers comprise many of their employer’s
enemies, and I never did understand why they joined.’

‘I think it might be Leighton,’ said Chaloner softly. ‘He lives in Queenhithe, and he does sinister business with the gunsmiths
in St Martin’s Lane.’

‘Leighton is high on my list of suspects, too,’ agreed Williamson. ‘He is too smug by half.’

Thurloe suddenly addressed Lester. ‘Do you know the latitude of Tangier?’

Lester blinked. ‘Of course. It is thirty-five degrees and forty-eight minutes. Why do you ask?’

‘No reason,’ replied Thurloe, although he glanced at Chaloner and there was a world of meaning in the look. Lester saw it.

‘Or is it forty-five degrees and thirty-eight minutes? It has been a while since I sailed there.’

It was not long before something began to happen. Secretary Leighton appeared, wearing a thick cloak, but identifiable by
his scuttling gait. He approached
Katherine
silently, and stood staring at her for a moment, a sinister figure in the swirling mist. Then he clapped his hands and suddenly
the quay was alive with activity.

Servants hurried from
Katherine
bringing torches, some of which they held aloft, while others were set into sconces along the walls. These formed bubbles
of yellow light, which did little to illuminate matters, and a good deal to reflect the fog. Then a veritable cavalcade arrived,
a chaos of prancing horses and rattling hooves. Within moments, the hitherto silent wharf was transformed into a riot of movement
and noise. Lights began to burn in
the nearby houses, as residents roused themselves from their slumbers to see what was happening.

‘The Adventurers,’ whispered Williamson, although Chaloner and Thurloe did not need to be told. ‘They are early, damn it!
Is there
nothing
that will not conspire against us today? I was hoping for more time, to give my men a chance to return.’

‘No hope of that,’ said Lester grimly. ‘As you said, we are on our own.’

Chaloner watched helplessly as half the Court disgorged from the coaches and aimed for
Katherine
’s gangway. Leighton scurried forward to greet O’Brien and Kitty, who were both clearly looking forward to what promised to
be an unusual occasion. Brodrick was there, too, although there was no sign of Hyde. After them came Grey, Dugdale, Edgeman,
Buckingham, Lady Castlemaine and other wealthy and influential people. They assembled in a noisy, chattering throng before
being assisted aboard by men in uniforms. The escorts’ unsteadiness on the gangway said they were not sailors, but White Hall
servants dressed to emulate them.

‘Was
Jane
here when you arrived?’ Chaloner asked Williamson. There was no answer, and he looked to see the Spymaster transfixed by
the sight of his friend’s wife.

‘Should I go to her?’ the Spymaster asked in a whisper, more to himself than the others. ‘Warn her that mischief is afoot,
and that she should leave without delay?’

‘Yes,’ replied Chaloner. ‘And tell her to take everyone else with her.’

‘Tom is right,’ said Thurloe, after a moment. ‘I know it is not for mere spymasters to cancel such occasions – I faced similar
restrictions when I held your post – but this
is too grave a matter to take chances with. Go to Leighton, explain your concerns.’

‘And what if
he
is the master?’ asked Williamson wretchedly. ‘It will tell him that we are suspicious, and we will have lost our only advantage
– the element of surprise.’

‘True,’ nodded Lester. ‘So we had better hold off until we have a clearer idea of their plans.’

‘What about Tom’s question?’ asked Thurloe, giving the captain a glance full of dark suspicion. ‘Was
Jane
here when you arrived?’

‘Yes,’ replied Lester. ‘I went aboard briefly, but she was deserted.’

‘Surely that is odd?’ asked Chaloner. ‘I would not leave a ship without a guard in Queenhithe.’

‘Neither would I,’ said Lester. ‘Perhaps the crew had wind of the Adventurers’ attack, and decided to scarper. I do not blame
them – I would not give
my
life protecting a wreck like
Jane
.’

‘Maybe we are worrying over nothing,’ said Williamson in sudden hope. ‘The Adventurers will not attack her now – not while
they are enjoying themselves on the boat next door.’

‘True,’ acknowledged Thurloe. ‘However, the Piccadilly Company’s plan is still set to unfold, and that has always promised
to be the more deadly.’

‘Perhaps not even that will happen if Fitzgerald’s master fails to kill Pratt,’ persisted Williamson. ‘You say you sent a
man to warn Pratt – that may be enough to retard the entire scheme.’

It was a pleasant thought, but Chaloner did not believe it. He took a deep breath in an effort to summon some energy. ‘Regardless,
we are doing no good in here.
We need to go aboard
Katherine
and find out what is happening.’

‘I will come with you,’ offered Lester immediately.

‘No,’ said Thurloe sharply. ‘He does not need your help.’

‘He does,’ countered Lester sharply. ‘I know my way around ships. He does not.’

‘Quite,’ murmured Thurloe in Chaloner’s ear. ‘He will have an unfair advantage.’

‘Perhaps we should all go,’ suggested Williamson worriedly. ‘Two of you will not be able to do much, but four …’

‘You should stay here and be ready to deploy your men, should they return,’ said Lester practically. ‘Besides, it is only
a reconnaissance mission. We do not intend to do anything.’

‘Very well,’ said Williamson. ‘But be careful.’

‘Yes,’ said Thurloe pointedly, his eyes boring into Chaloner’s. ‘Be
very
careful.’

Chaloner followed Lester towards the ships, acutely aware of being watched by Thurloe and Williamson. Or was it other eyes
that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, as it always did when he was in danger? Fitzgerald, perhaps, or his master?
Because whatever Lester said, Chaloner was certain the pirate would
not
have left
Jane
unprotected, especially given that a heavily armed warship containing a lot of Adventurers was moored next to her.

There were two gangways attached to
Katherine
. The one the Adventurers had used boasted streamers and carpets, and led to the aft end of the upper gun deck. The other
was a narrow service entry through a gunport
at the bow, intended for crew. A footman had been stationed at the top of the former to deter gatecrashers, and when his
back was turned, Chaloner aimed for the second.

‘There is something odd about
Jane
’s trim,’ said Lester, pausing halfway up the plank to study her. Chaloner grabbed his arm and pulled him on, horrified that
he should dawdle when they might be being watched. ‘She is strangely heavy in the bows.’

‘Perhaps only the back half of her has been unloaded.’

Lester smirked at this lack of nautical knowledge. ‘It is more likely that she is taking on water.’

‘The Adventurers will be pleased, then,’ said Chaloner, squeezing through the gunport. ‘If she sinks, they will not have to
worry about burning her.’

Once on board, he paused to gain his bearings.
Katherine
was rich with the scent of new wood and tar, and he was immediately aware of the rhythmic creak of her timbers as she rocked
on the ebbing tide. The guests were in the stern, and there was already a lot of noise – the clink of goblets, the plummy
laughter of men who were well pleased with themselves, and the banter of lively conversation. Lester caught Chaloner’s arm.

‘They will be in the Great Cabin – that is the big room at the other end of the ship. It is the only space large enough for
a party their size. Go there, and see what is happening.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘Looking at the rest of the vessel to see whether there is anything unusual. You will appreciate that I am better qualified
to do it than you.’

Chaloner felt a twinge of misgiving, but nodded anyway. His unease intensified as he travelled the whole
length of
Katherine
without encountering another person. Surely there should be servants present, managing matters behind the scenes as their
masters socialised? Men to broach casks of wine, or prepare refreshments? Or sailors to ensure that ignorant landsmen did
not tamper with something that might later cause problems at sea?

He reached the Great Cabin and peered around the door, expecting at any moment to be grabbed and an explanation demanded for
his presence. Inside, the Adventurers were enjoying themselves. Leighton was serving rum – familiar to sailors, but still
a rarity in London – from a large barrel in the centre of the room, and although there were winces at the taste, all were
willing to endure it for the sake of novelty.

There was an atmosphere of jollity, which intensified when O’Brien picked up a fiddle that had been left lying artistically
on a chest and began to play a medley of sea-jigs. A few people started to sing, while others spoke more loudly to make themselves
heard. Drink was spilled as sloppy toasts were made, and the reek of it was strong in the crowded room.

Not everyone had given themselves over to rowdy entertainment, however. Dugdale and Edgeman stood near the door, their faces
taut and expectant. Were they waiting for something to happen, or were they just uneasy after the Earl’s earlier words about
dismissing members of his staff who were Adventurers? Grey was another who seemed ill at ease, and so was Swaddell, while
Brodrick was clutching his stomach, claiming he was seasick.

Chaloner was about to leave when Dugdale happened to glance in his direction. Their eyes locked. The Chief Usher opened his
mouth and an accusatory finger started
to rise. Chaloner did not wait to find out whether anyone would be interested to hear that interlopers were aboard. He turned
and ran back the way he had come. There were raised voices behind him, but he could not tell whether they were simply those
of men – and women – made boisterous by the consumption of strong drink, or whether some sort of chase was in progress.

Unwilling to be ejected before he had learned anything useful, Chaloner aimed for the lower decks, sliding down three ladders
in the hope that any pursuers would assume he had aimed for the gangway, and would not expect him to move deeper inside the
ship. When he was sure the ruse had worked, he began to walk forward, intending to find a different set of steps to take him
back to the Great Cabin’s level.

He was surprised to see lamps had been left burning at regular intervals, and wondered whether Leighton planned to open the
entire vessel to the Adventurers later – and whether they would treat it with the same careless abandon that they treated
Temperance’s club. Regardless, it was risky to leave unattended flames in a structure that was made of wood.

He whipped around suddenly when he heard a click behind him. It was Lester, and he was holding a gun.

‘That is far enough,’ the captain said softly. ‘It is time this matter was ended.’

Chaloner gaped at the dag that Lester held. Then he saw it was not pointing at him, but at someone hiding in the shadows
behind him. He turned to see Fitzgerald. The pirate stepped into the circle of light cast by the lamp, moving with a haughty
confidence that immediately set alarm bells ringing in Chaloner’s mind. Before he could draw his own weapons or shout a warning
to Lester, Brinkes and his henchmen emerged from the darkness, too. All carried guns and daggers.

Undeterred, Lester took aim at Fitzgerald, intending to shoot him anyway, but ducked when a knife hurtled towards him. It
missed by the merest fraction, and the gun flashed in the pan. Without waiting to see what happened to Lester, Chaloner hauled
his sword from its scabbard and launched himself at Brinkes, hoping the speed of his attack would catch the henchman off guard.