02 - Keane's Challenge (26 page)

Silver quizzed him. ‘What did he say, sir? Did he tell you anything?’

‘Yes, Silver. He talked. Who wouldn’t, given the choice. He told me a great deal. The French have a new spy in our army. He’s an officer. Portuguese apparently, or attached to the Portuguese. He was not sure which. There were other things too. It was very useful. You did well. All of you did well.

‘Will, where’s that brandy I was saving? Break it out. We all deserve something.’

While Martin opened the bottle that Keane had managed to carry away from Celorico on his last visit, Keane mulled over what Labassee had actually told them. Yes, he had admitted that there was a new spy in the camp. He knew about Pritchard, he said, and that he had died in an explosion. The new man was,
he thought, a Scotsman and wore a Portuguese uniform. He was attached to the division that they had fought on the banks of the river Côa. Had masqueraded as a new arrival from headquarters. He did not have his name, he said, and Keane believed him. The threat of torture at the hands of the guerrillas was still in place, and Keane did not think the general would lie with the Spaniard standing so close by.

The other information was perhaps even more important. The French apparently knew about the code book. They had no idea how the code worked, the actual numbers and their meanings, but they knew of the book and were doing everything they possibly could to get hold of a copy.

With that the general had thought that Keane might have enough. But he wanted more. Keane had asked him for any information regarding Massena himself.

The general had thought for a while. Had described his commander, his appearance, his weight and height and character, his likes and dislikes. Still Keane quizzed him. Oh, there was one other thing. He had his mistress with him in Ciudad. Henriette was a real beauty. All the way from Paris. He was besotted with her and would do anything she asked of him. In reality, though, the general had it on good authority, although she loved the good life, she loathed Massena, who was a boor and a lecher, and longed to be rid of him. That, thought Keane, might prove a most useful piece of information.

He was thinking about the conversation, as they sat about the campfire, taking swigs of the liberated brandy, when Craufurd approached them.

‘Captain Keane, did you have any luck with our friend the general?’

Keane got to his feet and the others followed, making a
semblance of standing to attention. ‘Oh yes, sir. He was most obliging.’

‘Really? You must let me in on your secret.’

‘It was quite simple really, sir. I just showed him Sanchez’s man and told him that if he did not tell me what I wanted to know, then he would be handed over to the guerrillas. Then I gave him a detailed account of what they would do to him. That appeared to do the trick very well.’

Craufurd raised an eyebrow. ‘That was completely immoral, captain. To terrify a senior officer into divulging his army’s secrets with threats of torture? It was quite inappropriate.’ He paused. ‘Well done, Keane. Brilliant.’

*

As dawn rose, Keane lost no time in telegraphing the news back to Celorico. Here at last was something positive to report to Wellington. He asked for an escort for the general back to headquarters and was told by reply that he would have one by the end of the day.

The general’s escort, consisting of a squadron of the Horse Guards, arrived the following afternoon and Keane was surprised and, if he admitted it, not a little pleased to see Major Grant riding at their head. Grant dismounted outside Craufurd’s tent and was just being greeted by him when Keane strode over.

‘Major Grant.’

‘Captain Keane, I hear that you have found us a prize. A
général de brigade
, no less.’

‘Yes, sir. He was a little unnerved by the explosion.’

‘Yes. What a catastrophe. Your own news was doubly welcome on account of the previous messages. We understand from Almeida itself that a French shell fell into the walls of the castle just as the gunners were moving powder to the bastions.
It would seem that something in the region of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds of black powder were ignited along with close on a million musket rounds. Amazingly General Cox survives and most of the garrison. But perhaps one thousand people were killed and many more have been gravely wounded. Much of the town has been reduced to a single storey. Cox has very little powder left him. He has been signalling to us, but of course what can we do? Wellington will send no more help to Cox than he did to Ciudad. How can he? It is the same problem again. It is merely that he had expected that Almeida would hold out for a long time. I believe that Cox will surrender tomorrow.’

‘That is grave news indeed, sir.’

‘Yes, the duke is devastated. It was not in his plan.’ He turned to Craufurd. ‘My dear general, the duke is keen that I should speak with you about the state of the division and impress the need that you keep it at its best. You are the absolute rearguard of the army and the first point of contact.’

He addressed Keane. ‘Captain, I should be obliged if you would remain here while I speak with General Craufurd.’ Then, leaving Keane outside, he accompanied Craufurd into his tent, emerging half an hour later. Keane had not moved and Grant acknowledged his presence.

‘Captain Keane, thank you for waiting. I would have another word with you.’

He bade farewell to Craufurd and, with the Horse Guards now escorting Labassee, turned to Keane and took him aside.

‘James, we need a few moments to talk. You will realize that the loss of Almeida is a disaster. The duke is now more than aware that he must play for the time in which to complete the defences for Portugal and he knows that the French will advance against him forthwith unless he does something. He is resolved
on drawing in Massena to ground of his choosing for a wholly destructive battle.

‘And now, after the loss of Almeida, we will be again on the retreat. The duke is most insistent, James, that I should impress upon you the need of delaying the French and also for some means of persuading them somehow to come into Portugal on a route of our choosing.

‘You must falsify information and have them believe it to be true. No one must suspect otherwise.’

Keane thought for a moment. ‘We may be able to delay them a little by harrying actions, sir. But to persuade them to take a certain road will be hard.’

‘We both have full confidence in your skills, Keane. It is not every captain who can capture a
général de brigade
. In particular one as renowned and respected as Labassee. I do look forward to speaking with him. I am sure that we have much to talk about. Did you manage to get anything from him yourself?’

Keane paused, unsure, for once even with Grant, how much he should give away. ‘Well, sir, yes, in fact. I have ascertained that Marshal Massena has his mistress travelling with him, all the way from Paris.’

Grant smiled. ‘Really? How fascinating. And what can we deduce from that?’

‘Apparently he will do anything she asks and in reality she hates him.’

‘Really. She must have a way about her. Perhaps she will tell him to travel by the high road through Guarda and Viseu?’

‘I hardly think that she will do so, sir. Unless she is in your pay also.’

Grant laughed. ‘Sadly, James, my finances and those of the duke combined, I suspect, don’t stretch to suborning
a French general’s mistress, much as I would love to do so. Anything else?’

‘Yes. The French have another spy in our ranks.’

‘You have a name?’

‘No name. But I am told he is a Scot and wears Portuguese uniform.’

Grant scratched his chin. ‘Could be any number of men. Still, it’s a start.’

‘Oh, and sir, the French know of the code book and want to get their hands on it.’

‘Of course they do. That is not news to me, I’m afraid. But it does confirm what I thought to be the case. Still, you have done well. Let’s see what else you can come up with now. I shall give your news to the duke. Thank you, Keane. Most obliged to you.’

He turned and rode off with his prize safely under escort, and back in Celorico that evening, after they had entertained Général de Brigade Labassee to a dinner of guinea fowl and local cheese and fruit, washed down with a passable Rioja, Grant talked with Wellington deep into the night and assured him that somehow the French would come by the high road to ground of his choosing, that Keane would see to it and that he should go ahead with his plans. They would get the French to the place he wanted them to be and then they would give them more than a bloody nose.

And the following day an officer of the recently formed corps of engineers, based in Coimbra, received an order from the high command instructing him to begin work on the creating of a new road that would run the length of a hill some sixty miles away from Almeida, along the reverse side of a long ridge that was known locally as the Serra do Bussaco.

Keane sat in his tent in the camp. It was early the next morning and Ross had only recently brought him a mug of tea. Of course it wasn’t proper tea. It was made with some sort of a leaf, but it was warm and wet and served with milk, and it served its purpose. He was shaving in a bowl of cold water and the blade of his razor being somewhat blunt, he kept nicking himself under the chin.

The events of the previous day and his conversation with Grant had been going through his mind throughout the night and he had sent Ross off to find Archer. He had an idea in his head and wanted to run it past him. His men were a talented bunch. Rogues and cutpurses and frauds, but some of them stood out for their wit and wisdom. Martin was that sort and Keane was aware that in Archer they had acquired another: someone with a more than average intelligence, who in other circumstances would have become an eminent physician, but who now, thanks to his own misfortune and momentary stupidity, had provided the British army with a man who could provide something more than medical expertise. A man who might just help them win the war.

He was drying his face and dabbing at the cuts when Archer entered.

‘You asked for me, sir?’ He saw the blood. ‘Nasty.’

‘Yes. Just stupid.’ He buttoned his shirt and tied the stock, which was mercifully black, tight around his neck before pulling on his coat.

‘Archer, I have a plan. Say nothing until I have finished explaining it to you.’ Archer looked attentive and Keane began, knowing full well the effect of his next few words. ‘We’re going to give the code book to the French.’

‘What? I mean what, sir?’ Archer laughed. ‘What do you mean? Why on earth would we do that?’

Keane stopped him. ‘I said, say nothing. Right. We have a French spy among us. An officer on the Portuguese staff. What we’re going to do is have someone befriend that man, whoever he might be, and allow him to take the code book.’

‘Yes, but I still don’t see why, sir. And how will we do it?’

‘In time, Archer. Give me time to explain. If you think about it, it’s quite simple. There cannot be that many Scottish officers in the Portuguese army now, attached to this division. So, what I want you to do first, Archer, through the good offices of General Craufurd’s ADC, Captain Ramsay, is to find the potential candidates. That part is easy enough.’

‘Me, sir?’

‘You, sir. Bear in mind that there may be more than one. You’ll want the names of all the officers in the Portuguese service who have joined the division since the end of June. Then find out which of them are Scots. And when you have found out who he might be, then make sure that you fall in with him.’

‘How do you suggest I do that, sir? I’m a mere private soldier
and he is sure to be a major at the very least. He’d hardly speak to the likes of me.’

‘Yes, I have to admit that had me worried for a while. But here’s an idea. You’re a physician, yes? And I’m willing to bet that whoever he is, whatever his rank, he will have some sort of ailment. We all have them, don’t we? From sores on our feet, to the ague, the pox, worms or worse. It’s up to you to find out what his problem is and then cure it.’

Archer shook his head. ‘Oh yes, sir, that seems very simple.’

‘Archer, if I didn’t know better I would think that you were being facetious and put you on a charge. I’m in deadly earnest.’

‘Sorry, sir. Yes. I will do my best, of course.’

‘You’ll have to act quickly. Later today, I think. I will provide you with drink, a good bottle of brandy from my personal store. You won’t get him drunk, of course; he’ll be on his guard. But be hospitable. And in the course of your, how can I put it, friendly conversation, let slip that you are involved in the use of the telegraph and that you have a copy of the code book.’

Archer began to look uncertain.

‘You can do it, man. Come on. Simply be a good doctor, explain your background, win him over, then play the friend and choose your moment. Appear as if you have taken too much brandy. Take your leave and put your valise somewhere where it might simply have been mislaid. Let him find it and take the book. And there you are.’

Archer looked at him. ‘You said it was simple, sir.’

‘Yes, glad you see that too. It is just so. Exactly. So that’s your part played out. Then what happens is: he copies it, discovers your book and returns it to you and meantime sends the copy back to his generals and they begin to read our signals. But
what he won’t know is that you and I will then be sending out signals that are utterly incorrect.’

Archer began to smile.

‘The French will read our signals and decipher them and follow them up. And in that way we will lure them to ground of Wellington’s choosing.’

Archer grinned. ‘It is brilliant, sir. Quite brilliant. And really very simple.’

‘Good. The most important thing is that we don’t reveal any of this to the commander-in-chief until the French have hold of the book. He would almost certainly forbid it. In fact he’d be aghast.’

Archer frowned. ‘And with good reason, sir. The problem as far as I can see it, is that once the book is gone, it’s gone. The French will have the whole code. They will understand the nature of the army’s secret weapon. My God, sir – the duke will have you shot.’