Another Small Kingdom (8 page)

‘Well done, Melford, well done indeed. You have described to his buttons the man you're to look for. But of course it was easy for you, wasn't it?'

Melford bridled at the careless dismissal of his efforts.

‘Easy, why easy?'

‘Because the man you described so well is you, my Lord Melford. Look for a twin brother in Rome and you'll have your man.'

‘That's a damnable lie, Trent. I would never accept a bribe or act against …'

Trent leaned forward dangerously.

‘No, Melford, you wouldn't. And we both know why you wouldn't, don't we? We both know what I would do to you if you even tried.' Trent leaned back and Melford subsided. ‘You might as well see if you can talk to our Cardinal Bishop while you're there.'

‘And ask him what?' asked Melford sullenly.

‘Anything, anything at all. But remember, Henry Stuart is clever and was raised on Jacobite intrigue. He sucked it in with his mother's milk. It's in his blood and bones, and what he didn't learn among his family he'll certainly have learned at the Vatican. He'll probably tie you in knots, but that doesn't matter because you have your unique talent. Go to Italy, Melford, and see what you can find out about our Cardinal. Be judge and jury for me. If, when you return, you say he's going to play us false, maybe I will decide that it is better to snuff him out after all. Whatever else you do, arrange to keep him watched. In fact get your new man to organise a visit to our Cardinal as his first task. It would be a nice trial-run for him. It would give you a chance to see the man of your choice perform over a distance of ground, as it were.'

‘A visit to do what?'

‘Just let him ruffle through some of the Cardinal's papers, bring a few away, it doesn't matter what. Nothing of value need be taken but clear evidence of an uninvited visit.'

‘Which will do what?'

‘Let him know we are watching him, that his involvement is suspected?'

‘His involvement in what?'

‘It doesn't matter. If there is no involvement then no real harm is done. But if there is, we give him the illusion that he is discovered. It might do nothing or it might persuade him he is better off staying as a royal pensioner. If nothing else it will give our new organisation a chance to do something. Go and do this well for me, Melford, and there may be better things for you to do when you come back.' He paused for a second. ‘If you come back.'

‘If?'

‘If our friend Fouché finds that we've got a Recruiting Sergeant offering the King's shilling on the sly in Rome, which Napoleon regards as his own private garden, then your dear father the Earl will once more have to drop his breeches, raise his standard and busy himself getting another spare heir.' Melford looked uneasy. Trent had made his point. ‘But let's not dwell on that. If I didn't think you up to it I wouldn't send you.'

Melford revived like a watered flower.

‘When do you want me to go?'

‘As soon as you can, but not until you've done one other little job for me. I want you to find Madame de Metz and tell to her to come here and come quick as I need to have a few words with that most interesting lady. There, now I'm finished with you and you may go. But take care in Rome, Melford.' Lord Melford gave a grateful smile at Trent's concern. ‘It would be a damn nuisance to have to break in a new man to replace you just at the moment.'

Chapter Thirteen

T
he next day Madame de Metz duly arrived in Jasper Trent's office. The dark February day was throwing rain against the office windows but there was little evidence of the foul weather on her rich, full-length hooded cape.Wherever she had come from she had made the journey by carriage. Trent, who was busy writing with the light of a lamp, ignored her. After a few seconds of waiting she sat down, pulled back her hood, undid the clasp of her cape and let it fall behind her over the back of her chair.

She was young and very beautiful, and what had been given her by nature, art of a high order had improved on. The curls of her black hair were gathered up in the style of a Greek goddess, her white dress was tightly waisted under her breasts then fell loosely to her ankles and on her feet were the tiniest of brocade pumps each decorated with a small, pretty bow. The wide, low neckline of the dress showed off her fair shoulders. She wore no jewellery, and her face was a picture of fresh innocence. Such an abundance of simplicity marked her out as one of the very wealthy. When it became clear to her that Trent would ignore her until she said something, she spoke in fluent French and with a clear edge in her voice.

‘Eh bien, here I am and I hope you're going to make it worth my while. I have more important things to do than come running just because you call me.' Trent looked up from his writing and smiled his false smile and, as with his assistant, it unnerved her. ‘Don't try to play your games with me, as I said I have more important things to do than …'

Trent cut across her rapid French in slow deliberate English.

‘My dear Madame de Metz, it's no good you talking French at me. It won't do you any good. And as for those more important things you have to do, I know exactly what they are. For my part I think you were wise to run to me when I called, and if I choose to play a game, any game, I expect your willing, nay enthusiastic, participation.'

Madame de Metz was ready for the smile this time.

‘Cochon.' But although she said the word in French her tone of voice showed that Trent's words had hit their mark. When she went on it was in sullen English with no trace of a French accent, but rather a hint of Irish brogue. ‘I'm doing nothing illegal, not at the minute.'

‘Perhaps you're not, Molly, but with your help Jack and his friends are about to do something very illegal. This time they'll be taken, and when they're taken, my guess is that they'll find some way to pull you into it. You'll become just another counter on the bargaining table.' Trent stood up, went round the desk and sat on the edge of it, folded his arms and looked down at her. ‘Sir Patrick Conover, estates in Mayo and Donegal, recently seen quite often in the company of Madame Eloise de Metz. Madame is welcome in all the best houses as the very intimate friend of the Duke of Dorset's eldest son, Sir Giles Landry. She is considered everywhere to be a lady above reproach. Society may have opened its doors to Sir Patrick Conover, but you and I, Molly, both know that he is, in reality, an old friend of ours, Jack Doran, born and raised in Dublin's worst slums, a dangerous man who goes in for robbery, murder and God knows what else. When I found out that Jack had suddenly become Sir Patrick, I asked myself, what is his purpose in getting into society, who is his target?'

Molly avoided Trent's eyes and shifted in her seat.

‘I know nothing about any targets.'

‘But I do, Molly, and I say the Duke of Dorset is his mark. What's more I say you've already persuaded Sir Giles to invite Jack to Dorset's place when he goes there in two weeks. One night Jack will let his friends in, a few heads will get cracked or maybe worse, Jack and his friends will scoop up what they can carry and off they'll go. When it turns out that Sir Patrick Conover had taken everyone in and was no more than a common thief you'll be as surprised and shocked as all the rest of them. You, of course, would have lost enough jewellery to cover yourself although, once it was re-set, Jack would have seen you got it back. It was a nice enough little scheme, Molly, and a considerable compliment to your skill in digging yourself in deep among the high and mighty.' Trent unfolded his arms and returned to his seat. ‘Or perhaps a fitting monument to their stupidity. Either way it was a nice enough ramp. Nice enough that is, if I didn't know all about it. As it is, Jack and his friends will be taken tomorrow at Sly Joe's and then, after a brief rest in the Fleet prison, they'll swing.'

Trent sat back and gave Molly time to think. She didn't need long.

‘What's all this to you, Mr Trent? You're not usually interested in a bit of honest thievery? Why are you pulling Jack?'

‘Because I've been told to look after Sir Giles Landry. He sits at the tables of the powerful and deals in affairs of state and war. He's not a clever man, nor even a good man, but at the moment he's an important man. He will be there when negotiations for a pause in this present war start and they'll start very soon. So I was told to look after him, and that's how I came upon Jack and upon your little plot.'

‘Can't I just warn Jack off?'

‘No, Jack's time has come. My advice to you would be to get as far away from London as you can and do it quickly. Jack and his friends are gallows-meat this time and it would be a pity to get that pretty neck of yours stretched for no good reason.'

‘If Jack knows he'll swing and can't bargain his way out of a noose, why would he drag me into things?'

‘Because some naughty person such as myself might tell him it was you who peached on him. That would give him a good enough reason, don't you think?' The young woman said nothing, because she knew there was nothing to say. He had her exactly where he wanted her and she waited to see what the price of her neck would be. But Trent seemed in no particular hurry. ‘Tell me, Molly, how old would you say you were?'

‘I couldn't say, Mr Trent, we never kept birthdays in our family. I know I was just a little girl when my pa sold me to the Frenchies and they put me into a house in Paris. That was two years before the Bastille and that was what, thirteen years ago?'

‘Dammit, that means if you're about twenty now, you began your whoring at around the age of seven.'

‘That sounds about right. Those aristocrats were always asking for something new, and a pretty little Irish seven-year-old virgin would have been just up their alley. Pa would have got a fair price for me.'

‘And now here you are in English society, admired by all. You've come a long way, Molly and, like I said, it would be a pity for that journey to end with you swinging from a gibbet among a set of cut-throats, especially when I've got work for you.'

She leaned slightly forward, interested. The bargaining was about to begin.

‘What work?'

Trent sat back, pleased.

‘That's my girl. I want you to go to New Orleans for me.'

‘Good God, that's a bloody long way from London all right. It's the other side of the ocean.'

‘Maybe it is, but I need a beautiful French lady of good family to go there. Someone who knows the ropes and can look after herself.'

A sly note crept into Molly's voice.

‘If I need to know the ropes and be able to look after myself it sounds as if it might be dangerous.'

‘Don't tell me you're frightened of a little danger?'

Now it was her turn to smile.

‘I've been in danger of the gallows all my life. Danger don't bother me, just so long as it don't get out of hand. But danger puts the price up. You know that as well as I do, Mr Trent. Business is business.'

‘Come now, Molly, I wouldn't have said you're too well placed to bargain.'

‘Oh I don't know, Mr Trent. You can make it so I swing, but then again, how many girls do you know who could pass for French, and well-born French at that? I suppose it all depends on how important this work is to you.'

Trent laughed.

‘Well done, my lovely girl, you're a shrewd piece of work and that's the truth. You're quite right of course, this is important to me and what's more it's urgent. Your time as a whore in the grandest bawdy houses in Paris has made you just right for this little job. You met the right sort there, didn't you?'

‘Never you mind what I did in Paris nor who I did it with. The point is you need me and you need me quick.'

‘Of course it is, Molly, of course it is. So I'll tell you what I want and you can tell me your price and then we can argue and then we'll settle on the figure I dare say we both had in our heads all along. How's that?'

Molly relaxed and sat back in her chair.

‘Suits me, Mr Trent. I've always found you a fair man to work for. Cruel sometimes, but mostly fair.'

Trent laughed and Molly grinned. They were a well-matched pair and both knew it.

‘Now, Molly, to the nub eh?'

‘Aye, Mr Trent, the nub.'

‘I need a lady who can pass for French among the French in New Orleans and I need her there as soon as she can be got there. When you're there I want you to look out a man named St Clair. He's up to something.'

‘It'll be political I suppose?'

‘Correct. Let's say he's in the importing line, takes things in and passes them on. See if you can find out what his connections are, who he passes his goods on to. And while you're there keep a sharp lookout for any other newcomer who might be mixing among the Frenchie swells. Somebody who has not long arrived and is interested in getting to know the nobs of the French community. Whoever it is won't be French. It will probably be a man, but it might just be a woman. Do you still cater for all tastes, Molly?'

‘I do what the money wants me to do, Mr Trent. Will it be just sex and information or will I have to croak somebody? Croaking abroad might be tricky if you want it done in a hurry. I don't know the ways of the New Orleans French.'

‘No, there's no blood to be shed until you find what I want. All I want is for you to put yourself alongside St Clair and any man or woman who's doing the same as you, worming their way into the French upper crust looking for information. If there is somebody and they get what I want before you do, then take it off them. If you get it first, well, once you have the information that will be the time for a little blood-letting if it's called for.'

‘And if I get what you want how do I get in touch?'

‘I'll see that a ship puts into New Orleans every two weeks. They'll be different ones but all small and fast and all will be captained by a Royal Navy officer although there'll be no uniform. The captains will have orders to carry anything given to them by Madame de Metz. By your hand only, Molly, no messengers and don't contact any captain unless you have something to send me.'

‘And how do I recognise these ships?'

Trent pulled open a drawer, took out a folded piece of material and pushed it across.

‘Take a good look, you'll need to remember it.'

Molly picked it up and unfolded it. It was a blue pennant with three white stars on it.'

‘What's it mean? Flags mean something don't they?'

‘Not this one, not to anyone else. All it means is that the ship flying it is your ship.'

Molly threw the flag back onto the desk.

‘So, what am I looking to find out?'

‘There's things going on in New Orleans, things I need to know about.'

‘What sort of things.'

‘What interests me is that there's been put-up trouble. Frontiersmen breaking up the town and doing enough of a job of it to cause problems for the new Governor, Salcedo. He's started huffing and puffing and looking to come the heavy hand and deny warehousing to all American trade coming down the Mississippi
.
Something's afoot, we've known that for some time, but we don't know what. I think it started in Rome but now it's surfaced in New Orleans. The place is still run by the Spanish but it's the French who are calling the tune.'

‘Oh yes, how does that work?'

‘That whole part of the country is French again but they're keeping it looking Spanish for the time being which makes me think that whatever's going on is being organised from France, from Paris. And you can guess who it is in Paris that's doing the organising can't you, Molly?'

‘Oh Christ, you're talking about Fouché. I'm fucked if I'm going up against him, Mr Trent, not for any amount of money.'

‘If you go to America for me you may well be fucked and more than once, perhaps many times. But if you refuse me in this, I guarantee you'll be hanged alongside Jack before the month's out. It's your choice, I told you it would be dangerous, but it's a doubt against a certainty. Don't go stupid on me, Molly.' But Molly wasn't going stupid, she was just wondering whether going up against Fouché wasn't as sure a way to die as the gallows. ‘What's to think about, girl? You've been rogered so many times by so many men that repeating the experience can't bother you. But the experience of a short drop with a good strong rope round your neck is different. It's not one that anyone gets to repeat. It's a once in a lifetime thing, Molly. A unique experience.' And he sat back. ‘But as I say, it's your free choice, take your time. This or the gallows.'

‘Why did you tell me about Fouché and all the rest? Normally you don't tell me nothing. What I don't know I can't spill.'

‘Because this time you need to know. You need to know how good the enemy will be. I tell you frankly, I don't fancy your chances in this. It all turns on whether they accept you as Madame de Metz, on whether or not you can fit in. Trust no one and be more careful than you ever have in what I know has been a very careful life.' Trent leaned forward. For the first time in the meeting there was real animation in his face. ‘Find me what I want, Molly, and I promise you I'll set you up as a real lady and you'll have enough money to go free and clear and live in comfort for the rest of your life.'