The Piccadilly Plot (54 page)

Once the captain had been assured that George was an experienced seaman, willing to work, he happily agreed to take him on.
Chaloner gave George all the money he had with him, plus his coat; George took them without a word of thanks. Chaloner watched
him stride up the gangway, then went to tell Thurloe of Fitzgerald’s good fortune.

‘What?’ exploded the ex-Spymaster. ‘How can they let such a dangerous man go free? And to promote him into a position of power
into the bargain! Are they
insane
?’

‘No, they are corrupt,’ replied Chaloner. ‘He bribed them with promises of more gold bars.’

‘So the profits from mismanaging the mole will go into
his
pocket now,’ fumed Thurloe. ‘He not only has his liberty, but he is given licence to prosper at the tax-payer’s expense.’

‘It is a sorry business, and all about money as usual,’ said Chaloner despondently.

Thurloe nodded grim agreement. ‘And it all began with O’Brien objecting to the monopoly on African trade held by the Adventurers,
and deciding he was going to smash their hold on Tangier. He did not care that it would destroy the Queen and take all manner
of lives in the process. But some justice was served, at least.’

‘Was it?’ Chaloner could not think of any.

‘All those greedy people who hoped to profit were hit where it hurt them most – in the purse. The Piccadilly Company lost
all the treasure they had spirited to Clarendon House after
Jane
docked – it was confiscated by the government. And it was decided that the Adventurers should pay for the repairs to
Katherine
, because they were fooling about on her when
Jane
exploded.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Chaloner. ‘But most of them are so rich that they will barely notice the loss.’

‘Well, we should not be too downcast. Fitzgerald murdered all those members of the Piccadilly Company who were involved in
the plot, while the remainder are too relieved by their narrow escape to dabble with dubious characters again. And war with
the Dutch will destroy the Adventurers – their ships will be unable to trade, and their venture will go bankrupt.’

‘Temporarily perhaps. Do you know, when I scuttled the slave-ship
Henrietta Maria
in Tangier, I believed I had made a difference – that it might make these unscrupulous merchants think twice about the trade.
But the reality was that it accomplished nothing at all.’

‘It enabled dozens of people to escape life on the plantations,’ countered Thurloe. ‘
They
will not think it was nothing. But you are right in that the filthy business will flourish. You may have to hone your scuttling
talents. Let me know if you ever need an accomplice.’

Chaloner gave him a wan smile.

Thurloe sighed. ‘Fitzgerald may have bested me yet again, but at least some of the villains met a fitting end. Brinkes and
his louts are in Williamson’s tender care, while O’Brien, Harley, Brilliana, Cave, Meneses and my brother-in-law are dead.’

‘Harley was the worst. He murdered his friends and Reyner’s mother.’

‘Fitzgerald was the worst,’ corrected Thurloe. ‘He brained two men in front of you, and he was responsible for Turner, Lucas
and even children burned to death, as well as Proby being hurled from the roof of St Paul’s Cathedral, Congett poisoned and
Meneses trampled by a horse.’

‘It was O’Brien who issued those orders.’

‘Perhaps, but the wicked imaginativeness tells me that Fitzgerald decided how to execute them. He ordered Brinkes to kill
Captain Pepperell, too, before his report on the three Tangier scouts could be delivered to Williamson.’

‘Poor Pepperell,’ said Chaloner. ‘I doubt he knew much that could harm Harley, Newell and Reyner, and there was no need to
kill him. However, I think you will agree that the slaughter of the garrison on Jews Hill was by far the worst outrage in
this miserable affair, and while it was O’Brien’s idea, it was Harley who put it into action.’

‘True,’ acknowledged Thurloe. ‘Of course, the Teviot affair has been vigorously suppressed. The government does not want it
known that its own scouts brought about that tragedy.’

Chaloner was not surprised, being well acquainted with the fact that governments all over the world had ways to keep people
from finding out about their mistakes.

‘But Pratt was not guilty of anything except making bad friends,’ he said. ‘And of naively believing that members of the Piccadilly
Company would hire him to design houses for them once
Jane
had made them rich. He was so shocked when he learned he had been used in a plot against the Queen that he has retired from
public life. He has gone to live in Norfolk.’

‘That is extreme: I have been to Norfolk.’ Thurloe sighed again. ‘However, we saved the Queen from embarrassment and persecution.
That was worthwhile.’

‘It was, but she remains vulnerable until she produces an heir.’ Chaloner glanced at Thurloe. ‘I am sorry about Lydcott, by
the way. He was not a bad man, either. Just lacking in judgement.’

Thurloe pursed his lips. ‘I beg to differ – he sacrificed you and me to Fitzgerald without a second thought. I was wrong
about him, just as I was wrong about Lester, although Ann mourns his loss, of course. Still, at least I did not underestimate
Fitzgerald, so I have not lost my touch completely.’

‘Far from it.’ Chaloner stood. ‘I had better go. The Earl asked me to meet him in Clarendon House this evening, and he will
be angry if I am late.’

‘I have no desire to set foot in that place ever again,’ declared Thurloe with a shudder. ‘I shall always associate it with
evil dealings.’

So would Chaloner, but
he
did not have the luxury of declining the Earl’s summons.

Clarendon House stood silent and imposing in its sea of mud and winter-brown trees. The site was deserted because the Earl
had dismissed all the workmen, being uncertain which ones were involved with Oliver, and unwilling to take chances. More had
yet to be recruited, although it would not be long before the place rang with the sounds of industry again.

As Chaloner walked up the drive, he regarded it with dislike, and began to formulate plans to burn it down. No one would miss
it, except the Earl – even Hyde would be grateful to lose this monumental reminder of his gullibility. It took considerable
willpower to open the door and step inside, and he could not repress a shudder as he passed the stairs that led to the basement.

He found the Earl standing in his Great Parlour, which was still scarred from Brinkes’s efforts to escape. He looked short
and insignificant in its lofty grandeur, more like an interloper than its owner.

‘Hah!’ he exclaimed as Chaloner approached. ‘There is an unforeseen advantage to this place.’

‘What is that, sir?’

The Earl grinned. ‘You cannot mask the sound of your footsteps in this echoing chamber, so you will never be able to creep
up on me. I am safe from frights at last.’

Chaloner had made no effort to approach quietly, but was sure it could be managed, especially in the dark. The Earl’s grin
faded as he looked around him.

‘It was a pitiful business,’ he said softly.

Chaloner nodded, and stared at the floor. Lester had died saving people who continued to profit from the slave trade, and
one of the greatest villains he had ever encountered was currently sailing down the Thames on his way to a new and prosperous
life. Even Kitty, whose role in the affair was far from certain, was happily married to the man she had taken as her lover
while her husband still lived.

‘I am sorry so many people died,’ he said quietly.

The Earl stared at him. ‘Actually, I was thinking about my stolen bricks. The other business was far from pitiful, because
you presented me with four gold bars that the King’s treasurers had neglected to find.’

‘Oh,’ said Chaloner. ‘I had forgotten about those.’

‘You are a curious fellow! Anyone else in my household would have kept one for himself, but you gave me the lot.’

‘I did not want anything to do with them.’

‘Luckily for me.’ The Earl cleared his throat. ‘Henry has shown me every one of these sly secret passages, but they are all
in the wrong places.’

Chaloner frowned. ‘I do not understand.’

The Earl waved a sheaf of papers at him. ‘They are
in the main reception rooms, but these are large chambers, and experiments have shown that if you stand in the middle and
mutter seditious remarks, a spy cannot hear you.’

Chaloner took the plans and studied them. ‘There are no devices in the bedrooms – other than yours – either. That is where
most confidences will be whispered. You are right: I doubt they will serve you very well. Hyde … whoever designed them did
not know what he was doing.’

‘Speaking of my son, Williamson came to see me yesterday. He had information that indicates Henry lied – that it was one of
my enemies who arranged to have these spyholes installed, not him. I asked Henry about it, but he says Williamson is mistaken.
What do you think?’

‘That you should never invite Secretary Leighton here for dinner.’

The Earl stared at him. ‘These spyholes were
Leighton
’
s
idea?’

‘Yes – because he dislikes your opposition to the Adventurers, although when I confronted him, he claimed he never intended
the matter to end in the attempted murder of your son.’

‘Did you believe him?’ asked the Earl, round-eyed.

‘No. Had his plan worked, he would have wanted the devices kept secret – but Hyde knew about them, so of course he would have
killed him to ensure his silence.’

‘I shall issue a warrant for his arrest,’ said Clarendon. ‘And see what he has to say for himself once he is in the Tower.
You can lay hold of him tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The Earl sighed softly. ‘So Henry
did
lie to me. I
thought as much. He is not a brave boy and I was sceptical of him tackling gun-wielding villains. But we shall say no more
about it. His mother thinks him a hero, and I would rather not distress her with the truth.’

‘Very well, sir.’

‘But the affair will not be entirely forgotten, either. I shall send him to Sweden on a diplomatic mission soon. You will
accompany him.’

‘Are you punishing him or me?’ asked Chaloner, appalled by the notion of spending what might be weeks in the company of such
a man.

‘Do not look so gloomy, lad,’ said the Earl, rather more kindly than was his wont. ‘I have some news you might find cheering.
From Williamson.’

Chaloner doubted it, but listened politely.

‘It involves a fellow called Lester. Apparently, he managed to jump overboard before the flames caught
Jane
’s gunpowder. A Queenhithe family nursed him until he regained his wits, and he is now well on the road to recovery.’

Chaloner stared at him. ‘Lester is alive?’

The Earl smiled. ‘Williamson said you would welcome the news. He is being tended by his sister in the Crown tavern, and says
he would like to play his flute to your viol, if you have time.’

Chaloner felt his spirits lift at last. ‘May I …’

‘Go,’ said the Earl, waving a chubby hand.

Tangier, April 1665

George breathed in deeply, relishing the scent of sun-baked earth, the stew that was cooking, and the familiar, dusty odour
of the cows he had purchased with the
money Chaloner had given him. He stared up at the vast night sky, millions of stars flickering like diamonds suspended in
nothingness.

He was content for the first time since Fitzgerald had enticed him to sea with promises of easy wealth and a life of adventure,
and knew he had made the right decision to return home. He had not liked London’s filthy, crowded streets, and nor had he
enjoyed life as a servant. Moreover, he had certainly not appreciated being hired because it was fashionable to employ black
retainers.

He remembered the ones he had met at White Hall – not free men like him, but slaves taken from the Gold Coast. They had been
resigned to their lot, telling him it was a better fate than the plantations in Barbados, but he had railed on their behalf,
silently and bitterly, deploring the vile trade in human souls.

An evening in Tothill Street flashed into his mind, when he had eavesdropped on a discussion between Chaloner and Wiseman.
Chaloner had said little, but the surgeon had made it clear who had been responsible for the infamous attack on
Henrietta Maria
. George had decided then that he would repay the good deed one day, although he had not been sure how – devoted servitude
was certainly not on the cards. He was not a deferential man.

Then news had come of Fitzgerald’s promotion, and Chaloner had taken him to watch the pirate strut about on Queenhithe. Seeing
him had angered George on two counts: because of the callous way Fitzgerald had abandoned him in a foreign city after ten
years of loyal service; and because he knew Fitzgerald would dabble in the slave trade again when he reached Africa. He had
vowed not to let that happen.

It had not been possible to tip him overboard on the voyage, as he had intended, because Fitzgerald had kept to his cabin,
only emerging when
Katherine
had docked in Tangier. And after that, George had been more concerned with adapting to his new life than in monitoring his
former master. But the day had come when he had gone to town to sell some livestock, and then he had made his move.

He had acquired more of the yellow dust he had used in the past, and it had not been difficult to gain access to Fitzgerald’s
bedroom: the man was so certain that no one would dare move against him that security was minimal. He had blown the powder
into Fitzgerald’s face, and when the pirate had been blinded by the sneezing that followed, he had plunged a knife into his
black heart.

As he stared at the stars, George thought about Chaloner. Would he know who had delivered the fatal blow, or would he assume
that robbers were responsible, which was the tale that was flying around Tangier? George smiled. Chaloner would guess, and
perhaps sleep a little easier at night because of it. George hoped so. 480