Paper Woman: A Mystery of the American Revolution (41 page)

The snarl
erupted on his face, and he shook his fist.
 
"Five seconds more, and I would have wrung that assassin's
neck."

David's snarl
looked just as menacing.
 
"What,
and deny me the pleasure?"

"Both of
you be quiet and listen!"
 
She
steadied her breathing.
 
"To
misquote the Bard, 'Something is rotten in Havana.'
 
Father is alive, and he was back there in the church, but he
doesn't want the emeralds.
 
He was
appalled that Hernandez told us to take them to Don Alejandro.
 
But he was neither surprised nor upset to
hear that Hernandez was dead."

The
volanta
squealed to a halt before the private entrance of Don Antonio's tree-shrouded
mansion near the city's west wall.
 
Sophie's gaze roved across to a church on the Plaza del Cristo: La
Iglesia Santo Cristo, where Arriaga had spoken of visiting.
 
A French sailor entered at the front door
after crossing himself.

The gate at
Hernandez's private entrance opened to reveal four large, liveried slaves, who
marched to the door of the
volanta
, opened it, and stepped aside,
waiting.
 
David's tone lacked
emotion.
 
"This is finally
beginning to make sense in a very twisted way."
 
Twisted
, Sophie considered, as in
a spider's web of
double-crossing Spaniards
.

They exited the
volanta
.
 
Three other carriages
were parked before the mansion.
 
Jacques
ordered their driver to wait.
 
While one
slave shut the carriage door, the others made sure Sophie, David, and Jacques
were unarmed before gesturing them to the gate.
 
All four slaves accompanied them within.

Jacques lowered
his voice.
 
"I have a theory about
Hernandez's shooting."

David
nodded.
 
"I wager I have the same
theory."

"El
Serpiente had no accomplice on that part of the road.
  
He could not have shot both Hernandez and his horse."

David muttered,
"He had an accomplice of sorts — someone who shot Hernandez because he'd
discovered Hernandez had betrayed him and his fellow traveler to
Casa de la
Sangre Legítima
."

Disbelief
swirled through Sophie's soul.
 
"Father or Dusseau."
 
Hernandez's pistol shot at the abandoned trading post north of Darien
had been meant for
her
, not the assassin.
 
"And the emeralds aren't a bribe.
 
They're a lure."

David
whispered, "Yes, a lure for those who are in bed with the French.
 
I wonder, do the Gálvez actually have stakes
in this game?
 
Did they send this
Alejandro person?
 
Are they entangled
with
Casa de la Sangre Legítima
?
 
Or do the Gálvez know nothing of the scheme, and
Casa de la Sangre
Legítima
is merely borrowing their name?"

Jacques rubbed
his hands together and kept his voice low.
 
"We will learn soon enough, as it appears we now have an interview
with the Rightful Blood.
 
I suggest that
we begin by playing the innocents, although in truth, I have not much faith
that all the innocents in heaven weigh enough to tilt the odds in our
favor."

Chapter Thirty-Two

A CHAMBERLAIN
LED them across marble floors past an office with a mahogany
escritorio
to a patio at least twenty-five feet wide surrounded by galleries, balconies,
and iron railings.
 
In the courtyard
jungle of tropical foliage and flagstone, they waited, the four slaves
unobtrusive but present, enough sunlight piercing the overhanging branches to
shadow the perimeter.

A trim,
aristocratic man in his fifties entered with a younger noble.
 
Both wore powdered periwigs.
 
They scrutinized the travelers, dark eyes
communicating half an eon of nobility.
 
Even wearing the fine veil, Sophie, in her coarse petticoat, jacket, and
mobcap, had never felt more out of place.

"I am Don
Antonio Hernandez.
 
You have business
with me?"

"Jacques
le Coeuvre."
 
The Frenchman
bowed.
 
"David St. James.
 
Sophie Barton.
 
We bring word of your nephew, Esteban Hernandez.
 
We apologize for being the bearers of ill
news.
 
He was killed in the Georgia
colony two weeks ago."

Don Antonio
showed no interest.
 
He wasn't just
toughing out bad news.
 
Rather, it
wasn't news.

"Before he
died, he begged us to deliver the contents of his saddlebags to you, his
uncle.
 
We altered our travel plans to
accommodate his request."
 
Jacques
extended the saddlebags.
 
"Here is
your nephew's property."

The younger
Spaniard's eyes glittered.
 
Expression
harsh, Don Antonio signaled a Negro to retrieve the saddlebags.
 
After a glance inside and whispered
instructions from his master, the slave left with the saddlebags.
 
Don Antonio's eyes iced.
 
"
You
murdered Esteban."

Sophie
stiffened.
 
It looked as though the
three of them would be allowed no leverage in the matter and must finish out a
futile script.
 
Jacques kept his voice
even, although she knew he and her brother were also shocked.
 
"We did not.
 
Had we done so, would we have brought you his property?"

"Yes, if
it availed you of the opportunity to murder Don Alejandro de Gálvez."
 
He looked at his companion.

Silence wrung
the patio while the travelers regarded Don Alejandro, the impersonator.
 
The time for playing innocents was
over.
 
David lifted his chin.
 
"See here.
 
We are
neutrals
in the American War.
 
We set out three weeks ago from the Georgia
colony to track down our father's murderer.
 
We found your nephew on the road, badly wounded, and tried to make him
comfortable.

"Since
then we've come through a tropical storm and assaults by madmen to honor his
final request and deliver his property to you because
we have integrity
.
 
Yet you cannot even thank us for our
trouble.
 
No, you accuse us of murder
most foul.
 
Well, please, don't let us
take up any more of your time."

"
Señor
St. James, we all know your father and André Dusseau are alive, so cease the
play.
 
Where are they?"
 
Sarcasm twitched Don Antonio's lips.
 
"They were to have met Don
Alejandro."

David's card
playing expression slid into place.
 
"We haven't seen my father in weeks."

"Where is
the half-breed Creek Indian?"

Damnation.
 
Someone had preceded them with news not only
of Esteban Hernandez's death but also with intimate knowledge of their
party.
 
Jacques's tone was subdued.
 
"My nephew was washed overboard during
the storm."
 
Sophie heard tears in
his voice and lowered her gaze to the patio in pretense of grief.
 
"He was like a son to me.
 
You are also an uncle.
 
I did not understand why you showed no grief
at the announcement of your nephew's death.
 
It is clear to me now that someone brought the news prior to our arrival."

Dry-eyed, Don
Antonio sniffed.
 
"A Continental
frigate pursued you aboard the
Gloria Maria
.
 
Marines from the frigate arrived here two days ago with news of
Esteban's death.
 
They conclude — and I
agree with them — that you murdered him."

Eight men in
the green uniforms of Continental marines emerged from shadowy foliage around
the patio and surrounded them.
 
Cotton-mouthed, Sophie clutched David's hand.

This was
horrendous, the world turned upside down.

Don Antonio's
sneer deepened.
 
"They will place
you under arrest and take you back to the Colonies for execution, for
attempting to obstruct a meeting between the Gálvez and couriers of General
Washington.
 
Capitán
Carlton,
please join us and apprehend your prisoners."

A Continental
marine captain stepped from a doorway hidden by foliage.
 
His carriage, even in the shade, was so familiar
that terror blossomed in Sophie's gut.
 
Daylight shone like fire in his russet hair, and that appalling angelic
radiance consumed his face.

"General
Washington thanks you for your assistance, my lords."
 
Victory and delight fueled Dunstan Fairfax's
smile.
 
"Indeed, the general has a
noose for each and every traitor."

Jacques voice
roared across the patio.
 
"That man
is Lieutenant Dunstan Fairfax, a Briton!
 
You have been deceived!"

Fairfax rolled
his eyes at Don Antonio with an I-told-you-so expression.
 
The Spaniard shook his head.
 
"The papers identifying the
capitán
and his mission are in perfect order, as are those for his men.
 
You three have no identification."

Sophie didn't
recognize the men with Fairfax and had no idea how he'd obtained such papers.
 
Stolen?
 
Forged?
 
What happened to the
soldiers from Alton?
 
How had Fairfax
found recruits for what was essentially a suicide mission?
 
Where was Edward?
 
Perhaps no forgery was needed, and it wasn't a suicide mission,
because Don Antonio was in bed with Britain from the start.

David voiced
his theory.
 
"The frigate wasn't
the only ship chasing us.
 
Lieutenant
Fairfax's warship, the
Zealot
, was also in pursuit.
 
The frigate and warship were less than a
mile apart when the storm caught us.
 
The redcoats may have gained control of the frigate and appropriated
uniforms and commission papers —"

"In the
midst of a tropical storm,
Señor
?"
 
Don Antonio snickered.
 
"Do
you realize how mad that sounds?"

"Uniforms
and documents may be stolen, falsified."
 
David swept a circle in the air with one hand.
 
"You've been deceived.
 
The redcoats have set a trap for all of you!"

From the set of
Don Antonio's jaw, his mind was made up.
 
Fairfax gestured to the marines.
 
"Take them."

Derision
contorted Jacques's face.
 
"I will
be damned to hell before the get of an English whore and a poxy sheep takes me
prisoner, English pig."
 
He spat.

Sophie
gasped.
 
"Uncle Jacques, no!"

Fairfax looked
up from spittle smudging the shine on his black boot to the Frenchman, and his
face emptied of expression.
 
"Don
Antonio, you're a man of distinguished birth.
 
Before I remove the spies, grant me the opportunity to seek redress for
the slur inflicted on my family name just now."

"Of
course,
capitán
."

"Shall we
dispense with it here on the patio,
Monsieur
?"

"With
pleasure, pig."

"You issue
the challenge.
 
I select the
means."
 
Fairfax turned to Don
Antonio.
 
"May we have the use of
your pistols?"

"Oh,
gods," whispered David.
 
Had
Fairfax selected swords, he'd have conveyed his intent to be satisfied at
drawing blood only.
 
But Fairfax was
finished with Jacques.

The Spaniard
signaled one of the slaves.
 
"
Mis
pistoles para duelo
."
 
The
slave bowed and strode from the patio.

"Thank
you, Don Antonio."
 
Fairfax
regarded Jacques.
 
"Select your second,
Monsieur
."
 
He gestured for
one marine to join him and the others to withdraw.
 
The slaves and Spaniards also withdrew from the patio to observe
from a gallery.

David gripped
Jacques by the shoulder and, with Sophie trailing after, steered him to the opposite
side of the patio.
 
"You're mad, or
you'd realize what you've gotten yourself into."

Glory sparkled
in the Frenchman's eyes.
 
"Do you
imagine this to be Jacques le Coeuvre's first duel with one of
them
?"

"The Old
War was over seventeen years ago!"

"
Au
contraire
.
 
It has lasted since the
dawn of time."
 
Jacques gave him a
tender smile.
 
"And it gives me
great honor to have you as my second,
mon ami
."