would be that much harder.
Sure enough, as Caleb settled on his haunches, the boy noticeably relaxed. But his gaze remained sharp; although he constantly glanced back at Caleb, watching for any threat, he started scanning the shadows behind Caleb. “There are more of you, aren’t there?”
“Yes. I asked them to stay back so we didn’t frighten you.” Caleb paused, then offered, “There are twenty-four more men back on the path.”
The boy blinked at him. “So there’s twenty-five of you all together. All armed?”
Caleb nodded.
The boy frowned; he seemed to have lost his fear of Caleb. After a long moment of calculation, the boy shook his head. “That’s not going to be enough.” He met Caleb’s gaze. “There’s more mercenaries than that at the mine, and they’re all fearsome fighters.”
So there is a mine. And it is nearby. Caleb tamped down his elation. “We’re not the rescue party. We’re the advance scouts. Our mission”—and he could almost hear his eldest brother, Royd, groaning over him telling a boy, a young boy he didn’t know anything about, such details—“is to locate the mining camp and send word of it back to London. Then the rescue party will be dispatched, and they will have the numbers to put paid to the mercenaries.”
The boy studied Caleb’s face, searching his eyes as if to determine whether he spoke the truth—then the lad smiled gloriously. “Cor—they’re never going to believe me when I tell ’em, but the others are going to be in alt! We’ve been waiting ever so long for anyone to come.”
The excitement in his voice was infectious, but... Caleb waved both hands in a “keep it quiet” gesture. “Before you tell anyone, you need to remember that our mission must remain secret. The mercenaries at the mine must not learn that we’re here.” Caleb locked his gaze on the boy’s eyes. “If the mercenaries realize rescue is coming, it could be very dangerous for all the people kidnapped.”
The boy’s delight faded, but after a second, he nodded. “All right.” He looked at Caleb, then glanced out into the jungle again. “So what’re you going to do now you’ve found us?”
“I’m hoping you can take us closer to the mine—to some place from where we can see it but not be seen ourselves. Can you do that?”
“’Course!”
“But before we get to that, I want to hear what you can tell me—us—about the mine and the encampment.” Caleb swiveled and glanced behind him, then looked at the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Diccon.”
“I’m Caleb. And if it’s all right with you, Diccon, I’d like to call my men closer, so we can all hear what you say.”
Diccon nodded.
Caleb rose—slowly—and beckoned his men to join them. They tramped through the jungle following the route he’d taken, leaving as little evidence of their passing as possible. Each man nodded at Diccon as they reached the clearing. They all sidled in, trying not to crowd Diccon despite the limited space. Several hunkered down, including Phillipe.
Caleb did, too, again bringing his face more level with Diccon’s. “Right, then. This mine—does it have a fence around it?”
That was all he had to ask to have Diccon launch into a remarkably clear and detailed description of the camp—more like a compound—that surrounded the entrance to the mine. Crude but effective outer walls, with huts for various purposes. Mention of a medical hut had Caleb and Phillipe exchanging surprised glances.
Diccon’s description wound to a close; he’d mentally walked in via the gate, then taken them on a clockwise tour describing every building they would pass.
“That’s extremely helpful,” Caleb said, and meant it. “Now—how many mercenaries are there?”
“Hmm.” Diccon’s features scrunched up. He had set down his basket, and from the way his fingers moved, he was counting. Then his face cleared. “There be twenty-four there right now, plus Dubois, and six are off taking the latest batch of diamonds to the coast for pickup.”
Caleb blinked. “So it’s definitely diamonds they’re mining.”
“Aye,” Diccon said. “Thought you knew that.”
“We’d guessed it, but until now, we couldn’t be certain.” Caleb tilted his head. “You said the mercenaries take the diamonds to the coast for pickup—not Freetown?”
“Nuh-uh. At least, we—all of us in the compound—don’t think so. Far as we’ve been able to make out, they take the strongbox toward the settlement, but the pickup is somewhere on the estuary, see? That way, no one in Freetown knows.”
Phillipe shifted, drawing Diccon’s attention. “The six who’ve gone to the coast—do they go and return via that path?” He pointed at the path they’d been following, which lay not that far away through the palms.
A pertinent point. Caleb looked at Diccon—and was relieved to see the boy shake his head.
“That path just goes to Kale’s camp.” Diccon’s eyes grew flat, and his expression shuttered. “You don’t want to go that way.”
“Kale’s not there anymore,” Caleb said. “He’s...left. Along with all his men.”
“Yeah?” Diccon studied Caleb’s face, then his eyes grew round as the implication registered.
Before he could ask the eager questions clearly bubbling on his tongue, Phillipe intervened. “Which route do the mercenaries take to the coast, then?”
“There’s another path—well, there’s several leave the compound. One goes to the lake where we get our water, and there’s this one, where all of us came in from. Then there’s another that divides into two not far from the gate. Those who go to drop off the diamonds take the northwest branch, and we reckon it also eventually leads to Freetown. They could get to Freetown through Kale’s camp, but Dubois—he’s the leader—he mostly sends his men to get ordinary things like food and stuff that we know must come from Freetown when they go to drop off the diamonds.”
Caleb nodded, a map taking shape in his brain. “You said that path divides into two—where does the other branch go?”
“Far as we know, it leads dead north. We think there’s nothing but jungle that way, all the way to the coast.” Diccon paused, then added, “Maybe some natives. There’s a chief that owns this land, see, and Dubois pays him to let the mine be. We think he—the chief—lives that way. That’s why the track’s there, but no one from the mine uses it.”
Phillipe caught Caleb’s eye. Caleb nodded fractionally. That little-used path sounded like the one they should fall back along. He refocused on Diccon. “Tell us more about the mercenaries.”
“Well, like I said, there’s thirty of them all up, including the cook and his helper, who are just as fierce as the others. And there’s Dubois. He’s in charge, and they all mind him. He has two...lieutenants, I suppose you’d say. Arsene—he’s Dubois’s second-in-command—and Cripps is the other. The mercenaries are all big and tough, and they carry swords, lots of knives, and some have pistols. The ones on
