What a Hero Dares

“But with money now in your pocket, you went hunting Anton instead?” Max shook his head as if attempting to shake some bit of knowledge loose. “Not me. Anton. Just as you said.”

“And so we’ve come full circle, only this time it would seem you believe me. Very good, Max. Now if you’d be so kind as to leave the door unlocked as you leave, by morning I’ll no longer be your problem.”

“I can’t do that. How long have you been following Anton?”

That question surprised her. “You’d trust any answer I’d give you?”

“I’ll measure any answer you give me, let’s settle on that compromise. If your answers prove helpful, I might allow you the freedom of the house, but not the grounds. With any key to your chamber in your own possession so that you don’t feel constrained to climb out on any more roofs.”

Zoé sat down once more, her mind busy. This was her chance to prove herself, and she knew it. What had mostly amused her at the time could be just what Max might want to know. “A rather one-sided bargain, but I suppose I have no choice. Anton is a creature of habit, as you already know, or you wouldn’t have found him—unless he found you?”

“No, I found him.”

“Because you’re so all-powerful, or because he let you?” Zoé asked, only because she couldn’t help herself. There had always been this competition between them, once a friendly sparring, but now she realized the game had lost all its humor. “But no matter,” she added quickly. “I haunted his favorite hotel in Ostend until he showed his face.”

“You were taking quite a chance, confronting him.”

“The opportunity never presented itself.” Zoé’s quick mind knew what was important and what was not, so she left any further telling of how she’d found Anton and told Max about the man’s dining companions. “He was seated at a table in the open air outside the hotel, joined by a man and woman. The woman dark-haired and past her first youth, but rather beautiful still. And a man—tall, muscular—ten or fifteen years her senior. Blond, strikingly so, and blue-eyed. He seemed...agitated. The woman had her hand laid on Anton’s forearm, while beneath the table she had slid off her slipper and was running her bare toes up and down his stockinged leg. Quite the coquette.”

“And you recognized neither of them?”

Ah, she’d said something important. Zoé shook her head. “I was most concentrated on Anton. He seemed to be in charge of the conversation, at times appearing angry, until the blond man pushed back his chair so that it tumbled to the flagstones and he stomped off, leaving the woman to make amends.”

She smiled. “After I’d cooled my heels for a good hour outside the hotel while Anton and the woman played upstairs, sipping some rather pleasant Bordeaux beneath my wide-brimmed bonnet and fairly hideous red wig, they reappeared, as did the blond man some moments later. He’d been propping up a lamppost directly across the street—clearly aware of what was transpiring inside the hotel. The woman teased him, kissed him, and then discreetly cupped his genitals as she flicked her tongue across her upper lip. Straight from one man’s bed and already seducing another. You can see why I haven’t forgotten her.”

“And the blond man?”

“Imbecilic over the woman. He raised both her hands to his mouth, kissing her overturned palms while, if I heard correctly, apologizing for his behavior. Anton laughed—we both know how indiscriminate he is about who he ruts or where—and within moments the three had entered a coach and been driven off toward the waterfront. I admit to being intrigued. I followed them. Once I was certain Anton was in his hotel for the night, I returned to the small warehouse they’d visited and took a look inside.”

“A dangerous move.” Max held up a hand. “Wait. The man and woman. Could you overhear anything they’d said? Were they speaking French, or English? Did they look French to you?”

“The woman spoke French in the way of a proper English schoolgirl, and the man didn’t speak at all until the end, and then spoke English. He had some sort of accent, a country-born accent, I’d say, definitely lacking in formal education. You know how I delight in languages.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

She wished to heaven she did, because Max’s interest was with the couple and she longed to know why. “No. Clearly they had business with Anton. That’s all. And, although you may not be interested, it would appear Anton has been dabbling in opium trading. At first glance it seemed to be the usual contraband bound for England, but when I opened one of the brandy kegs it was solidly packed with oilskin-wrapped opium. Our mutual friend is quite the enterprising fellow, doubtless a fervent admirer of my most recent employer, and willing to serve any number of different masters, as long as it’s personally profitable.”

“I can’t believe this,” Max said, looking pale in the candlelight. “Anton and the Society?”

Zoé didn’t understand what Max meant, but if she told him what she knew, gained at least a modicum of his trust, eventually he’d tell her the rest.

“It was time for my visit to Anton. Unfortunately, he’d already slipped away—a drawback to working alone—so that I spent that night watching for him only to realize he’d escaped me. It took nearly another month to track him down again, looking first in Dunkirk, and then in Gravelines, because of the opium, you understand. It would do Anton no good if it remained in France, and Ostend’s harbor has lately come under English scrutiny. Two days later, and here we are, aren’t we? I imagine if your family managed to rescue any of the kegs I saw onboard tonight, they’re not filled with brandy.”

“And the man and woman?”

Zoé sighed. Again, the man and woman. He’d already known about the opium, she could see it in his eyes. What in the devil was going on here? Why would Boucher have chosen Redgrave land to be his rendezvous point with his smuggling partners? Why had he brought Max with him on the crossing, and then tried to either knock him unconscious or kill him? And all this obviously of strong interest to the Redgraves. Walk away? She wouldn’t leave Redgrave Manor now unless bound to the back of a cart and dragged.

Zoé believed she’d just seen the door to at least a conditional acceptance opening a crack in her favor, and she grabbed at it. “Are these questions in aid of something in particular? The trouble it would seem you Redgraves have found yourselves in, if I understood correctly earlier? Perhaps I can help, as it would appear I’m once again without financial prospects. For one, I’d definitely recognize the man and woman if I ever saw them again.”

“You’d sell your services to the devil himself, wouldn’t you?” Max asked, heading for the door. “Remember, I’ve seen your handiwork when you believe it time to change employers. Only a fool would trust you.”

So much for conciliatory gestures.

“And you’re certainly no fool, are you, Max?” she called after him as he turned his back on her.

She watched as his shoulders stiffened, as they rose up and down with his sudden deep breathing.

“I’m more the fool than you know,” he said, his back still turned. “If I’m beginning to believe you’re innocent, what in God’s name does that say about me?”

Poor Max. She longed to shake him. She longed to comfort him.

“What does it say about both of us, Max. Other than that we neither of us were so brilliant as we’d believed. Anton duped us both.”

He at last turned to look at her, but made no move toward her. “He should be locked up with the others in one of the outbuildings. I think it’s time all three of us had a small chat,” he said quietly. “I’ll ask Gideon and Richard to join us, as I no longer trust my ability to know who is lying and who’s telling the truth.”

“No, not yet,” Zoé warned him, for she’d spent several hours out on the roof, thinking how best to handle Boucher. “In your heart you know I’m telling the truth. I don’t think he saw me tonight, so perhaps you can continue as you were, pretending to still trust him. I don’t know what you mean when you speak about this Society, but I truly think that’s best, and I know you can do it. Think of your family, Max. Expose him at some point, yes, but not yet, not when he might still prove useful to you. Then give him to me. That’s all I ask in return for helping you, and I’ll be on my way. I owe you that much, and you owe me that much.”

At last Max understood; she could see it in his eyes, his expression suddenly bleak and defeated. “You were following Anton to kill him. For no other reason than to kill him. Not only that, or he’d be dead by now. You wanted him to see who was about to kill him.” Max took a single step toward her, with her involuntarily moving forward at the same time. “Tell me what happened. Please, Zoé. What happened after I left to meet with the courier?”

“There’s no point in that now, other than that you know your true enemy and can protect yourself. Otherwise it all would have been for nothing.”

“All what would have been for nothing?” Max took another step and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me. Please.”

She bent her knees and ducked out from beneath his light grasp, returning to the window to look out into the night sky. She’d believed him dead, had resigned herself to never being able to tell him what she longed for him to know. Still, the story flattered neither of them, and she wanted to get over this rough ground as quickly as possible.

“I was asleep in the loft with the others napping downstairs when Anton rode in with three men. Before I could fully rouse myself and get into my boots, they’d dragged Ralph and Howard and Georges outside and were tying them up on the ground. Ralph and Howard were dispatched at once, bullets to their heads.” She closed her eyes, seeing everything as if it was happening again. “And then...”

“Look at me, Zoé. Don’t look at the past, look at me.”

She turned around, leaning back against the windowsill, the moonlight most probably turning her unbound hair to silvery gossamer—drawing Max toward her like a moth to the flames. But now was not the time for such thoughts. She felt so incredibly sad. “Don’t you understand, Max? You are the past, and so am I. It’s too late to change that.”

He looked at her for a long time. “I suppose you’re right. Tell me about Georges.”

“He was so sweet, wasn’t he, and so young,” Zoé said at last, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Anton went down on his knees beside him as the boy sobbed, pleaded, saying he didn’t want to die. Anton...Anton sat him up and hugged him close, kissed his cheeks, and told him no, his men had been overzealous in tying him up in the first place. Georges laughed and cried in relief, holding out his bound hands behind him so that his uncle could slice the ropes around his wrists. He was still smiling when Anton put a small pistol to his ear and shot him. Then he kissed him again as he gently laid the body back on the ground, thanking the boy for his sacrifice.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.