James Read’s severe expression did not waver. “Yes, so you said.”
“I thought he should know what he’s got himself into.”
“Quite.” The Chief Magistrate did not speak for several moments. Finally, he broke the uncomfortable silence. “As you may have gathered, er…Sergeant, I’m well aware of your—how shall I put it?—current activities. I’m equally familiar with your background and your connection with Officer Hawkwood. It’s for that reason, and due to your actions this night, I’m prepared to abide by his commendation. You’ve become privy to highly sensitive information, however. Do I have your word of honour you’ll not speak of these matters to anyone outside these walls?”
Jago looked at Hawkwood then back at the Chief Magistrate. The ex-sergeant drew himself erect. “You have my word, sir.”
Read met the promise with a curt nod. “Very well.” The Chief Magistrate took his seat. “All right, tell me about William Lee. You’re certain it was he?”
Hawkwood nodded. “Turns out I’d already met him, though I didn’t know it at the time. He was passing himself off as Lord Mandrake’s house guest, probably as a means of taking a sly look at me, the cocky bastard. Anyway, the message from the girl was a ruse. Nathaniel didn’t send it. Lee did. He wants me dead. It seems I’ve become a nuisance. They used the girl because Scully knew I’d recognize her.” Hawkwood hesitated. “Scully killed Warlock, too.”
A shadow passed over James Read’s face. He listened in silence as Hawkwood recounted the details. When the Runner had finished, the magistrate sighed heavily. “I see. Then it appears we’re doubly indebted to you, Sergeant. You’ve saved us the expense of a hanging.” To Hawkwood, he added, “You say you still don’t know the identity of his accomplice?”
“Not yet, but I’ll find out.”
James Read nodded. “Let’s hope it’s sooner rather than later. As for Lee, is there any way he could have perished in the fire?”
Hawkwood shook his head. “I doubt it.”
“A pity. It would have saved us a deal of bother.” James Read turned to his clerk. “Make a note, Mr Twigg. When we’re done here, you’re to summon Officer Lightfoot. His duties at the Bank of England are now complete. On my orders, he is to proceed north with all dispatch, to Lord Mandrake’s estate at Northwich. He is to arrest Lord Mandrake on sight and return with him to this office. He is to use force if necessary.”
“Very good, sir.” The clerk’s face betrayed no emotion. Ezra Twigg’s lengthy tenure at Bow Street had prepared him for every eventuality. The apprehension of a peer of the realm was all in a day’s work, no different to the arrest of a pickpocket or the protection of a bullion consignment.
“And what of the clockmaker?” Read asked. “Is Master Woodburn dead or alive?”
“Alive. They still need him, apparently. Lee didn’t say why. My guess is it’s for some sort of repair work to the submersible boat. Whatever it is, it must be something delicate, that only someone with a clockmaker’s skill could attempt.”
James Read looked thoughtful. “So, there’s still some hope for him, at least. I suppose we should be thankful for small mercies.”
Hawkwood said cautiously, “There’s one thing that’s been troubling me.”
James Read nodded. “You’re wondering how Lee knows so much. I confess it’s been causing me some concern also.”
“He has friends in high places.”
“And upon what do you base that assumption?”
“It’s no assumption. It’s fact. He told me. I asked him how he knew I’d been a captain, and that was the answer he gave me.”
Read frowned. “He’ll have got that from Lord Mandrake surely, or this Scully fellow.”
“Perhaps,” Hawkwood conceded. “But I’m not so sure. It’s just a feeling I’ve had. It wasn’t so much what he said, it was the way he said it. Friends in high places. He was boasting. He wouldn’t boast about Mandrake, certainly not about Scully. In any case, how did Mandrake know we were on to him? We suspected he might be a turncoat, but Mandrake knew we suspected him. That’s why he left in such a hurry. But how did he know?
“And there’s something else…” Hawkwood paused. “When I told Lee we knew about Thetis, he seemed to find that amusing. Said we only thought we knew. How does he know what we’re thinking? Maybe somebody told him.”
James Read closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, he looked tired, as though sleep had finally begun to catch up with him. He opened his eyes. “You realize what you’re suggesting?”
“I could be wrong,” Hawkwood said.
“And then again, you could be right.” The Chief Magistrate’s expression was grim.
“There’s another thing,” Hawkwood said.
The Chief Magistrate blinked. “What?”
“Christopher Marlowe.”
“Who the bleedin’ ’ell is Christopher Marlowe?” Jago asked. “Not another mate of Scully’s?”
James Read frowned. “Not is, Sergeant, was. He was a writer of plays. He died over two hundred years ago. Forgive me, Hawkwood, but I fail to see the relevance.”
“You ain’t the only one,” Jago said. “What the hell has this got to do with anything?”
Pointedly, James Read had not echoed William Lee’s surprise at Hawkwood’s familiarity with the playwright. A Bow Street Runner’s duties were many and varied, including personal protection. Among Hawkwood’s more notable and notorious clients had been the actor Edmund Kean. Kean, a small, unattractive man with a sour disposition, had appeared a year before at Covent Garden in a short season of Marlowe’s works. Hawkwood had spent a good part of his time in the theatre wings. Whereas offstage Kean had been a rude and arrogant monster, onstage he was a genius, scorning theatrical convention and enthralling audiences with an ease that was a wonder to behold. When Hawkwood had returned to his regular police work he had taken with him a fascination and grudging respect for the actor’s skills and a lingering appreciation for Marlowe’s work.
“Lee quoted Faustus at me,” Hawkwood said.
Nathanial Jago continued to look blank. The Chief Magistrate rode to his rescue. “Faustus is a character in one of Marlowe’s plays; a doctor who promises his soul to the Devil in exchange for wealth and power.” The magistrate grimaced. “Lee obviously sees a similarity with his current allegiance.”
“Lee also told me where Marlowe died,” Hawkwood said.
The Chief Magistrate’s head turned slowly.
“He told me it wouldn’t only be Marlowe’s death that Deptford would be remembered for.”
There was a pause. “Oh, dear God,” Read said.
“Would somebody please tell me what the hell’s goin’ on!” Jago demanded.
James Read shook his head. “It means, Sergeant, that we have severely underestimated our American friend. By God, Hawkwood, I pray we’re mistaken. If not, then not only is our William Lee an arrogant rogue, he is also possessed of a particularly callous sense of humour.”
Jago looked helplessly from one to the other.
“The ship, Nathaniel,” Hawkwood said, “he was talking about the ship.”
Read turned to Jago. “The ship, Sergeant, remember? We believed Lee’s mission was to destroy HMS Thetis. She’s lying currently at the Deptford yard. We made the mistake of assuming Lee would be making his attack in open water, or at least that he’d wait until Thetis was in the estuary. We were wrong. Lee’s presence in London and his remarks to Hawkwood confirm our misunderstanding. He’s not going to wait. He means to launch his attack now, here! The enemy is not abroad, Sergeant. He is among us!”
The penny dropped. “Sufferin’ Jesus!” Jago breathed.