Thieves' Quarry (The Thieftaker Chronicles) (25 page)

He had wandered down a blind alley, and he had no idea where to go next.

He made his way out to Fish Street, and began the long walk back to the South End, his thoughts roiled and chaotic. Already it was the second day of October; it had been three days since he had gone out to the
Graystone
and two since his conversation with Thomas Hutchinson, and still he knew little more than he had when he began his inquiry. Each time he thought he was close to finding Gant, or at least being able to tell the customs agents how they might find him, something happened to throw him off the path. At this rate, not only would he lose the offered reward to Sephira, as he did too many other rewards he tried to collect, but he would doom every conjurer in Boston to the hangman’s gallows.

And yet, even as he contemplated the unthinkable, the kernel of an idea began to form in his head. It carried risks, and not just for himself. But as far as he could tell, it was the best option he had left. As he crossed over Mill Creek, he turned toward upper Cornhill rather than heading toward his room.

Nearing Dock Square, though, Ethan halted in his tracks. There were regulars posted at the corners of Union and Cornhill Streets, all of them dressed in full uniform, the red seeming to glow even in the dull light of an overcast day. Their muskets were fixed with bayonets, and though they stood at ease, speaking among themselves or chuckling at a comrade’s joke, their mere presence chilled Ethan’s blood. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see them. They hadn’t occupied the city so that they could hide from view. This was what the king and Parliament and General Gage had had in mind. Still, knowing this and actually seeing armed soldiers in the streets were two different things.

He continued past the men, but began to look for others. And doing so, he saw them everywhere. They stood at other corners, they walked the streets in small groups and patrolled near the waterfront. There were dozens of them outside Faneuil Hall and the Town House, where Kannice had told him they were to be garrisoned.

Ethan tried to tell himself that he had nothing to fear from them. He had never allied himself with Adams, Otis, and the others. But he didn’t like that the men were there.

He buried his hands in his pockets, lowered his head, and walked, trying to avoid making eye contact with any of the soldiers he passed. And with his shoulders hunched, he made his way to Diver’s room.

His friend lived on Pudding Lane—which was now called Devonshire, though Ethan still thought of it by its old name—in a room much like Ethan’s own. It sat above a bakery, and the woman who owned the property had taken a shine to Diver. She was old enough to be his grandmother, and doted on him as if she were. She gave him loaves of bread almost daily, and occasionally left more expensive treats for him. It was one more way in which Diver was the most fortunate wastrel Ethan had ever known.

The building itself was newer and sturdier than Henry’s cooperage. The old building had been completely destroyed by the great Cornhill fire of 1760 and rebuilt of brick, as mandated by city law. Diver’s room was located at the back of the building. It was simple and small, but warmer in the cold months and cooler during the summer than Ethan’s. Still, they paid about the same in rent.

On most mornings this close to midday, Diver would have been at the wharves already. But this was Sunday, and the shipyards at which Diver labored tended to work their men on Saturdays and give them Sundays off. Reaching Diver’s door, Ethan knocked, waited, and after some time knocked again.

“Diver!” he called. “Are you in there?”

“Aye, hold on,” came Diver’s voice from inside. The door opened, revealing Ethan’s friend, shirtless and barefoot in a pair of breeches. His dark curls were tousled and he squinted against the daylight.

“What time is it?” he asked, frowning at Ethan.

“Almost midday.” Looking past Diver into the room, Ethan saw the bare back and long red hair of a woman in Diver’s bed. “Late night?”

That coaxed a grin from him. “What do you want, Ethan?”

“I have a business proposition for you. I need help, and I think you’re the only one who I can trust with this.”

His eyes went wide like those of a boy who had just been given his first musket. The look was half joy, half amazement. “You’re serious,” he said.

“Aye. But we need to get started now. And,” Ethan added, looking past him to the woman, “we can’t discuss it in front of anyone.”

Diver nodded. “She’ll be dressed and out of here in five minutes.” He started to close the door.

“Is that Katharine?” Ethan asked, stopping him.

“What?” Diver’s face went red. “Oh. No, it’s not. I told her I never wanted to see her again. This is Deborah. I’ll introduce you before she leaves.”

Ethan didn’t think there was any need. Chances were Diver would be with someone new by week’s end, and he would never see Deborah with him again. But he kept that to himself and waited patiently outside the room while the two of them dressed. True to his word, Diver introduced Ethan to the girl as she was leaving, presenting Ethan in a manner befitting someone of great celebrity. Deborah smiled at Ethan, kissed Diver’s cheek, and left, hips swaying as she descended the stairs. Diver stared after her in a way that made Ethan wonder if he was wrong to dismiss the girl as he had.

“You like this one, eh?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Good for you, Diver. It’s about time.”

Diver looked at him. “What is?”

“Nothing. Forget I said it.”

His friend looked down at the girl one last time as she stepped out onto Devonshire. Once she was out of sight, he turned to Ethan again. “So what’s this all about?”

“Inside,” Ethan said.

Once they were in the room, with the door closed and a pot of water warming on the stove, Ethan began to relate to Diver all that he had learned about the pearls and Gant’s role in their theft.

When he finished, Diver let out a low whistle. “Well, I never liked Simon Gant. I was scared to death of him, if you want to know the truth. But going up against Sephira…” He shook his head. “You’ve got to admire him for that. I wouldn’t have the nutmegs.”

“I prefer to think that you’re too smart,” Ethan told him. “But we’ll leave that discussion for another day.” He had been sitting back in an old wooden chair, but now he leaned forward, the chair creaking as he rested his elbows on his knees. “When was the last time you dealt with smugglers?”

Diver hesitated. Under most circumstances, Ethan knew, he would have claimed to have given up such activities, knowing that Ethan wouldn’t approve. But he seemed to understand that on this day Ethan needed to hear the truth. “It’s been a while now. Since last winter at least.”

“You still know people, though, right? If you needed to find something, or sell something?”

“Of course,” the younger man said. “What is it you want me to do?”

“If you had pearls to sell, and you didn’t know where they had come from, or if you knew but didn’t want to answer any questions about them, where would you go to sell them?”

“The Crow’s Nest,” Diver said right off. “That’s still the best spot.”

Ethan shook his head. “They’re not there. And at this point I’d wager that Dunc wants nothing to do with them. Where else?”

Diver ran a hand through his curls, his brow furrowed. “That’s hard to say. I might have to think about it, and get back to you.”

“No time for that,” Ethan said. “I’ll trust you to find the right place.”

“You’ll trust me…? I don’t follow.”

“I need you to find a buyer for those pearls.”

“But I thought you didn’t have them.”

Ethan grinned. “Well, that’s where this gets a little dangerous. I
don’t
have them. Neither will you. So you’re going to have to use some caution when you speak of them. Maybe say that you have a friend who’s trying to sell the pearls. If you want to imply that it’s me, go ahead. Just don’t use my name, or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“The men who are likely to show interest in these pearls are going to want to know more about them than I’m guessing you want me to tell.”

“I’m sure,” Ethan said. “But I’m not as interested in attracting potential buyers as I am in drawing the attention of Simon Gant. So here’s what you’ll say: You don’t know much about where these pearls came from. Only that they’ve been here in the city for several years, and that they had been lost for a while, but recently turned up somewhere in New Boston. If anyone asks for more information than that, tell them you don’t know.”

“Several years in the city, found in New Boston.” Diver nodded. “That’s easy enough. What else?”

Ethan closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face, brow to chin. “It’s not easy at all, Diver. Understand what it is I’m asking of you, what it is I’m getting you into. If I’m right, Gant has already killed a shipful of men simply to protect his stake in this shipment. He nearly killed Mariz with a conjuring. He beat me senseless and did the same to Dunc, all because of these pearls. He’s going to hear what you’re trying to sell, and he’s going to come looking for you. And because he stole these from Sephira, we’re going to be drawing her attention, too. She’s been hunting the man all through Boston, and she won’t stop until Gant is dead or she has the pearls.”

Diver stared at him, puzzlement furrowing his brow. “Well, now it sounds like you don’t want me to help you.”

“I do. I can’t think of any other way to lure Gant out from wherever he’s been hiding. But I want you to understand the danger in what I’m asking you to do. Once you start this, you can’t stay here. Chances are Gant and Sephira’s toughs will come here to search your place, and they won’t be gentle about it. If you’re here, they’ll hurt you. Or worse.”

“So, I won’t be here.”

“Is there somewhere else you can stay? With Deborah maybe?”

Diver’s cheeks reddened again. “Aye, maybe. I’ll find a place. Don’t worry about it, Ethan. I can do this.”

Ethan laid a hand on Diver’s shoulder. “I know you can. But just the same, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, and on them. If anyone contacts you, tries to set up a meeting, you let me know, and I’ll be there with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Can’t you find Gant on your own? Your way, I mean.”

“I can,” Ethan said. “But he’ll feel a finding spell. He’ll know someone’s looking for him. He might even guess that it’s me. I don’t want to give him that kind of warning. I’m sure that he’s looking for these pearls, and I’m sure that he’ll want to find them as quickly as he can and then get as far from Boston and Sephira as possible. I’m hoping that we can make him a little careless.”

“What if this doesn’t fool him?” Diver asked. “What if it doesn’t fool Sephira, either? What if one of them already has the pearls, and they know that I’m making it all up?”

“They don’t,” Ethan said. “I’m not sure of much, but I do know that if the pearls had been found Gant would be long gone and Sephira would be hunting him down instead of sending Nigel and his buddies all around the North End.”

Diver weighed this. “Then it sounds like I should get started right away.”

Ethan stood, patted Diver on the shoulder. “My thanks. I’d like to tell you that there’s a hundred pounds sterling waiting for you at the end of this if it works, but there’s not. I’m getting paid ten pounds. I’ll give you four, but that’s about all I can offer.”

“That’s more than enough. I still owe you from what happened with Tanner. And you’ve spent at least that much on my ales and stew in the Dowser.”

“Nevertheless, I’m in your debt,” Ethan said. “Let’s plan to meet at the tavern each night until this is over. I want to know everything that happens.”

He let himself out of Diver’s room and descended the stairs to the street, feeling considerably better than he had just an hour before. Sephira always managed to outthink him, but he couldn’t imagine that she would anticipate this gambit.

Chapter

F
IFTEEN

He had intended to head home after leaving Diver’s place, but as he stepped back out onto the street, he saw people streaming through the city lanes toward the First Church. At least, that was where he thought they were going. As he followed, however, driven by curiosity and something else he couldn’t name, Ethan saw that those leading the throng had passed the church and Town House, and were continuing west toward the Court House.

This, too, they passed. As Ethan caught snatches of conversation and repeated mention of certain words—“lobsterbacks,” “barracks,” and, most often “Brown”—he realized that they were leading him to the Manufactory House. Thus far today he had heard nothing new about Elisha Brown, but he assumed that he and his comrades were still holding out in the building. Listening more closely, looking around at the expressions of those walking with him, he sensed the crowd’s trepidation as well as its excitement. It seemed that the people heading toward Treamount didn’t know whether to expect another moral victory for the colonists or a bloodbath.

Reaching the broad avenue and following the onlookers to the great brick structure, Ethan saw a host of regulars and an officer, powerfully built and resplendent in his red uniform, standing at the fore of their column. He was looking up at the building, speaking with someone. Following the direction of his gaze, Ethan saw a man with dark hair and a ruddy face leaning out of a second-story window, and shouting back at the officer. Elisha Brown, no doubt.

The regulars carried muskets, but as of yet they hadn’t aimed them at the building. Ethan wondered how long that would last. To his relief, he saw no sign of the British cavalry or of heavier guns.

Scanning the larger horde that had gathered around the building to watch whatever unfolded, Ethan caught sight of a familiar shock of gray hair. After a moment’s hesitation, he pressed through the mass of people until he had reached Samuel Adams’s side.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

Adams glanced his way, looked a second time. His face brightened. “Mister Kaille!” he said. “What brings you here? Are you ready at last to join our cause?”

“I was drawn here by curiosity, nothing more. I saw the crowd gathering and I followed.”