“My lord,” said Sir Lyon after a moment, “your lack of the Talent is a great loss to the Sorcerers Guild. As you have correctly deduced, there are two parts to the spell. The first — and most important — part is built into this device here.” He pointed toward the golden-gleaming brass instrument. “The symbolism built into this… er… ‘gadget’ I think you called it, Lord Bontriomphe — is most important. Within this brass cylinder are the invariables — what we call the ‘hardware’ of the spell. But this, by itself, is of no use. It can only be used by a sorcerer who can use the proper verbal spells to activate it. These spells we call the ‘software’ — if you follow me, my lord.”
Lord Bontriomphe nodded, grinning. “Between the two of you,” he said, “you and Lord Darcy have answered my question. Do proceed, Sir Lyon.”
“I think there is no need to,” said Sir Lyon. “I shall turn the rest of the discussion over to the Lord High Admiral.”
“I think we can all see,” said the Lord High Admiral without waiting for Sir Lyon to sit down, “what this device could do to an enemy ship in the hands of a sorcerer who knew the spells. It does not prevent them from steering the ship — that, as I understand it, would be Black Magic — but any attempt to load and fire their batteries would result in chaos. We have seen what happens when one man attempts it. You should see what it does to a team! Each man is not only fumbling his own job, but is continually getting in the way of others. As I said — chaos.
“With this device, my lords and gentlemen, the Imperial Navy can keep the Slavonic Royal Navy bottled up in the Baltic for as long as necessary. Provided, of course, that we have it and they don’t.
“And that, sirs, is the crux of our problem. The secret of this device must not be allowed to fall into Polish hands!”
The crux indeed! thought Lord Darcy, suppressing a smile of satisfaction. The King had already taken out his pipe and was filling it; Lord Darcy, the Lord High Admiral, and Captain Smollett had immediately reached for their own smoking equipment. But Lord Darcy was watching Captain Smollett. He could have predicted almost to the word what the Lord High Admiral’s next words would be.
“We are faced, then,” said my lord the High Admiral, “with a problem of espionage. Captain Smollett, the details, if you please.”
“Aye, aye, my lord.” The Chief of Naval Intelligence puffed solemnly on his pipe for a second. Then: “Problem’s very simple, m’luds. Answer’s difficult. Someone’s been tryin’ to sell the secret of this device to the Poles, d’you see. Here’s what’s happened:
“We had a double agent in Cherbourg — name’s Barbour, Georges Barbour. Not Anglo-French, actually. Pole. Did damn’ good work for us, though. Trustworthiness high.”
Smollett took his pipe from his mouth and gestured with the stem. “Now” — he stabbed the air with the pipestem — “a few weeks ago, Barbour got a letter — anonymous, untraceable — saying that the secret of the device was for sale. Description of exterior and of effect of device quite accurate, you understand, m’luds. Very well. Barbour contacted his superior — chap known to him only by code name ‘Zed’ — and asked for instructions. Zed came to me; I went to My Lord High Admiral. Amongst the three of us, we set a trap.”
“Your pardon, Captain Smollett,” said Lord Darcy, taking advantage of a pause in the captain’s narrative.
“Certainly, m’lud.”
“No one knew of this trap save yourself, my lord the High Admiral, and Zed?”
“No one, m’lud,” Captain Smollett said emphatically. “Absolutely no one.”
“Thank you. Pardon the interruption, Captain.”
“Certainly, m’lud. At any rate.” He took a puff from his pipe. “At any rate, we set it up. Barbour was to make further contact. Asking price for details of secret — five thousand golden sovereigns.”
And worth it, too, Lord Darcy thought to himself. One golden sovereign was worth fifty silver sovereigns, and a “twelfth-bit” — one twelfth of a silver sovereign — would buy a cup of caffe in a public house. One can buy an awesome amount of caffe for a quarter of a million silver sovereigns.
“Negotiations took time,” Captain Smollett continued. “Barbour couldn’t appear too eager. Look suspicious, eh? Yes. Well, ’t’any rate, negotiations went on. Barbour, you must understand, was not working through Intelligence in Cherbourg. Worked through Zed. Had to be careful of contacts with us, you see. Always watched by Polish agents in Cherbourg.” Captain Smollett gave a short, sharp, barking laugh. “While we watched Poles, of course. Devilish job.
“Didn’t dare break Barbour’s cover, d’you see; too damn’ valuable a man. Now — during the negotiations, the man who was trying to sell the secret came twice to see Barbour. Barbour described him. Black hair, black beard and moustache, straight nose, fairly tall. Wore blue-tinted glasses, spoke with a hoarse, whispery voice in a Provence accent. Fairly tall. Dressed like a member of the well-to-do merchant class.”
Lord Darcy caught Lord Bontriomphe’s eyes, and the two investigators exchanged quick grins. The description was such that neither of the two men needed Captain Smollett’s next statement.
“Obviously a disguise,” said Captain Smollett.
“A question, Captain,” said Lord Bontriomphe.
“Yes, m’lud?”
“This bloke made two appointments with Barbour. Since you must have known about ’em before hand, why didn’t you grab him then — when he kept the appointments?”
“Couldn’t, m’lud,” Captain Smollett said firmly. “Not without breaking Barbour’s cover. Too many Polish agents in Cherbourg keeping an eye on Barbour. They knew Barbour was dealing with this chap — called himself Goodman FitzJean, by the way. Any attempt to grab FitzJean would have meant that we’d’ve had to grab Barbour, too, d’you see. If we didn’t, the Polish agents would’ve known that we knew about Barbour. Not, p’raps, that he was a double agent, but — at least — that we knew of ’im, eh? Would’ve broken his cover, rendered him useless to His Slavonic Majesty. Couldn’t afford that, d’you see.”
“You could have had this FitzJean followed after the appointments,” Lord Bontriomphe pointed out.
“We did, m’lud,” the captain said with some acerbity. “Naturally. Both times.” Captain Smollett frowned in chagrin. “Unfortunately, I am forced to admit that the man eluded our agents both times.” He took a deep breath. “Our Goodman FitzJean, m’luds and gentlemen, is no amateur.” He looked around at each of the others. “Damn’ sharp man. Don’t know whether he knew he was being followed or not. But he likely suspected Polish agents following him, even if he didn’t suspect Imperial agents. Managed to get away both times, and I make no apologies, m’luds.”
Captain Smollett paused to take a breath, and the Lord High Admiral cut in — this time addressing His Majesty.
“With your permission, Sire, I stand behind Captain Smollett. No agent or group of agents can follow a suspect for very long if the suspect is aware that he is being followed and is trained in evasion techniques.”
“I am aware of that, my lord,” said King John calmly. “Please continue, Captain Smollett.”
“Yes, Sire,” said the captain. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, m’luds, we failed to follow the so-called FitzJean. But Barbour had — with our connivance — baited the trap. He agreed, d’you see, that the information FitzJean had was worth the five thousand golden sovereigns. He told FitzJean that His Slavonic Majesty’s Government had agreed to the price. Provided…” Captain Smollett gestured vaguely with his pipe, and cleared his throat again.