imperative we learn of the location of that camp. If you go further and are captured yourself...put simply, all those missing can’t afford that. If you are taken, we won’t know until your crew return to tell us. And once they do, we’ll be no further forward than we are now—no nearer the point of knowing enough to effectively rescue those taken.”
Wolverstone glanced at Melville; when he looked back at Robert, his features had hardened. “Running a mission in successive stages may seem like a slow way forward, but it is a sure way forward, and those taken deserve our best attempts to successfully free them.”
Robert met Wolverstone’s gaze; two seconds ticked past, then he nodded. “I’ll locate the slavers’ camp and bring the information back.”
Simple. Straightforward. He saw no reason to argue. If he had to sail to Freetown and do this mission, he was glad enough that it should have such a definite and definable endpoint.
Wolverstone inclined his head. “Thank you.” He looked at Melville. “We’ll leave you to prepare.”
Melville rose, as did everyone; he offered Robert his hand. “How long before you and your ship will be ready to depart?”
Robert gripped Melville’s hand. “A few days.” As hands were shaken all around and they moved toward the door, Robert thought through the logistics. He halted at the doorway and spoke to all. “I’ll send The Trident to Southampton to provision from the stores there. I imagine I’ll be able to set sail in three days.”
Melville humphed, but said no more. From his expression, Robert surmised that the First Lord was even more deeply troubled by the situation in Freetown than Wolverstone.
Then again, Wolverstone had no real responsibility to shoulder in this instance, while Melville...as Robert understood it, as First Lord, Melville had his neck metaphorically on the block, at least politically, and possibly even socially.
Robert returned to the armchair opposite the sofa. While Declan and Edwina farewelled their unexpected guests, he swiftly reviewed all he’d been told.
When Declan and Edwina reentered the drawing room and resumed their seats, he looked from one to the other. “All right. Now tell me all.”
As he’d assumed, the pair had a great deal more to impart to him of society in Freetown, of all the characters who had played even small parts in their own drama, of the sights, sounds, and dangers of the slums, and so much more that, he knew, could well prove helpful, and perhaps even critical, once he was on the ground in the settlement.
The hours slid by unnoticed by any of them.
When the clocks struck one, they repaired to the dining parlor and continued their discussions over a substantial meal. Robert grinned when he saw the platters being brought in. “Thank you,” he said to Edwina. “Shipboard food is good enough, but it’s nice to eat well when one can.”
Eventually, they returned to the comfort of the drawing room. Having exhausted all the facts and most of the speculation applicable, they finally turned to the ultimate question of what purpose lay behind the strange kidnappings.
Slumped in the armchair he’d claimed, his long legs stretched out before him, his booted ankles crossed, Robert tapped the tips of his steepled fingers to his chin. “You said that Dixon was the first to vanish. Given he’s an engineer of some repute, assuming he was chosen for his known skills, I agree that that suggests the enterprise our villains are engaged in is most likely a mine.”
Lounging on the sofa beside Edwina, Declan nodded. “At least in those parts.”
“So what are they mining?” Robert met his brother’s blue eyes. “You know that area better than I. What’s most likely?”
Declan twined his fingers with Edwina’s. “Gold and diamonds.”
“I assume not together, so what’s your best guess?”
“If I had to wager, I’d go for diamonds.”
Robert had a great deal of respect for Declan’s insights into all matters of exploration. “Why?”
Declan’s lips twisted. He glanced at Edwina. “I’ve been thinking about why those behind this have chosen to take young women and children—what uses they might have for them. Children are often used in gold mines to pick over the shattered ore—they’d be just as useful in mining for diamonds, at least in that area. But young women? They have no real role I can think of in gold mining. But in mining for diamonds in that area?”
Gripping Edwina’s hand, Declan looked at Robert. “The diamonds there are found in concretions, lumped together with other ore. Separating the ore from the stones is fine work—not so much precision as simply being able to work on small things. Young women with good eyesight could clean the rough stones enough to reduce their size and weight so that the final product, while keeping its value, would fit into a relatively small space—easy to smuggle out, even by mail.”
Declan held Robert’s gaze. “If I had to guess, I would say our villains have stumbled on a pipe of diamonds and are busy retrieving as many stones as they can before anyone else learns of the strike.”
* * *
Later that same day, in a tavern in Freetown located on a narrow side street off the western end of Water Street—an area frequented by clerks and shopkeepers and others more down at heel—a man rather better dressed than the other denizens sat nursing a glass of ale at a table in the rear corner of the dimly lit taproom.
The tavern door opened, and another man walked in. The first man looked up. He watched as the second man, also better dressed than the general run of the tavern’s clientele, bought a glass of ale from the man behind the counter, then crossed the room to the table in the corner.
The men exchanged nods, but no words. The second man drew up a stool and sat, then took a deep draft of his ale.
The sound of the door opening reached the second man. His back was to the door. He looked at the first man. “That him?”
The first man nodded.
Both waited in silence until the newcomer had bought an ale for himself and approached the table.
The third man set his glass down on the scarred surface, then glanced around at the others in the taproom before pulling up a stool and sitting.
“Stop looking so damned guilty.” The second man raised his glass and took another sip.
“All very well for you.” The third man, younger than the other two, reached for his glass. “You don’t have an uncle as your immediate superior.”
“Well, he’s not going to see us here, is he?” the second man said. “He’ll be up at the fort, no doubt busily sorting through his inventory.”
“God—I hope not.” The younger man shuddered. “The last thing we need is for him to realize how much is missing.”
The first man, who had silently watched the exchange, arched a brow. “No chance of that, is there?”
The younger man sighed. “No—I suppose not.” He stared into his ale. “I’ve been careful to keep everything we’ve taken off the books. There’s no way to see something’s missing
