Dark Angel (23 page)

"You would have been shot as a spy." That was why Adam's work was so dangerous.

"Exactly. I was younger then and careless of my life." Lescaut stared into his cup for a moment, then lifted his eyes to hers. They were blue, Caroline decided. She must hold on to details, the color of the colonel's eyes, the light striking the water glass before her, the smell of the violets in a small white vase. "It was a small village," Lescaut went on, "and like most villages it had its passions. Some of the villagers had joined the
guerrilleros
in the hills where they could harass our soldiers, but those that remained, the
afrancesados,
were fiercely loyal to King Joseph and his French allies.

"A small detachment of our men had passed through the village that day, and that night the
guerrilleros
came down from the hills. They were too late to find the French soldiers, so they took revenge on their sympathizers. Old feuds, my friend Carmen told me, old scores to settle. She thought I was better out of it and hid me in a barn."

"Carmen?" Caroline asked. She might have known Lescaut would find a woman wherever he went.

"A friend, Madame Rawley. Sixty years old and strong as a bull."

"I see." Caroline felt properly chastened. "And Adam?"

"I arrived later," Adam said, "with Carmen's grandson. He was with the
guerrilleros
and he feared for my safety. It seems we were an embarrassment to both sides." A look of pure delight passed between the two men. "Carmen's grandson took me to a ruined chapel a mile or two away. I found Robert there before me. Carmen had decided the barn was no longer safe. She had insisted that he go disguised. Robert was wearing a long skirt and shawl—he-made a fine old woman—"

"And Adam was scruffy enough to pass for a peasant," Lescaut finished. "I thought he was Spanish. Adam suspected I was a British deserter. It took us the rest of the night to work it out."

"With the help of a skin of wine."

"Two, as I recall."

"Enough to seal a friendship." An unbidden smile came to Caroline's lips. How strange that she should feel so comfortable with an enemy of her country. How strange that she should trust him with her daughter's safety. The fear rose again in her throat. "Colonel Lescaut. If your men do not find Emily..."

"Then we have tonight, madame."

"I shall keep the appointment."

"No!" Both men spoke at once.

Adam's eyes were sharp with fear. "You've seen the men, Caro. I can't trust you to their mercy."

"I shall keep the appointment," she said again. "Alone, as the message said."

"Not alone. I'll go with you."

"No, Adam. If they see you there, they'll suspect a trap—" She broke off and willed herself to calm the beating of her heart. "If they see you there, they'll run away and we'll never know where they've taken Emily."

Adam met her eyes for a moment and Caroline knew he was weighing her safety against Emily's. "All right," he said at last. "You'll go alone. But Hawkins and I will be nearby."

"As will my men," Lescaut said. "Have no fear, Madame Rawley. We will not interfere. We want only to see that no harm comes to you."

Caroline shivered and drew further back into the doorway that sheltered her from the glances of passersby. Lescaut and three of his men were in an upstairs room of a house on the opposite side of the alley from where she stood. Adam and Hawkins were nearby. They had not told her where.

Despite what they claimed was an exhaustive search, Lescaut's men had found no trace of her daughter. Hawkins, in whom Caroline put more confidence, had been no more successful. She had passed an agonizing day. The short time at Lescaut's breakfast table, which had lulled her into an illusory security, was long past. In defiance of Adam she had left the inn and spent the day prowling the streets in the vicinity of San Sebastian, talking to the women. Soldiers wouldn't think of asking women, but where a child was concerned a woman would see more than a man. But Caroline was no more successful than the soldiers.

She glanced round now to get her bearings. It was a long, narrow alley, blocked at the far end by the rear wall of the church. On either side were the back walls of houses which fronted on streets running parallel to the alley. The near end of the alley ran at right angles to the Via Léon, a street filled with noise and activity during the day but now quiet and deserted. People were at dinner or drinking in the taverns. It was too cold to stroll for pleasure. Only an occasional group of soldiers passed the mouth of the alley, or a solitary Spaniard hurrying by on some unknown errand.

The man she was going to meet would come from the Via Léon, and it was there that she fixed her gaze, willing him to appear. She heard the church bells strike ten. She wondered if it was all a hoax, if they had taken Emily—No, she would not think of that. Of course they would come. They wanted the dispatch. She had it, suitably crumpled and folded in its oilskin packet in the pocket of her skirt. The dispatch was quite legible. It should be; Lescaut had written it that morning.

Caroline waited, sick with apprehension. The night was cold but she could feel a small trickle of sweat between her breasts. She started at each sound of footsteps in the street beyond the alley, peered at each man that passed its mouth, wondering if this was the one. For a long time no one passed at all. Bells chimed the quarter-hour. Somewhere a dog barked.

And then she heard the footsteps, not from the Via Léon but from behind her. She whirled round and saw a man approaching from the far end of the alley. She could not tell where he came from. Perhaps from one of the houses backing on the alley farther down, perhaps from the door she could dimly see in the back wall of the church. She waited, transfixed, while her mind kept saying over and over, "Emily, Emily, Emily."

As the man drew closer Caroline saw that he was not the heavyset man with the beard who had started the fight in Norilla. It was the thin man with the long face, the bearded man's partner, the one who had pulled a knife on Adam. He stopped, as though not certain where she was. "Señora," he called.

Caroline stepped out from the shelter of the doorway and moved to the middle of the alley. "I'm here," she said. "Where is my child?"

She saw a flash of white in the dim oval that was his face. "In time, Señora."

Caroline reached into the pocket of her skirt. "I have what you want," she said, tugging at the oilskin packet. The thin man looked at the packet in surprise. He moved closer and stepped a little aside, forcing her to turn to face him. "Where is my child?" she said again, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.

But he was no longer looking at her. His eyes were focused at some point behind her. He seemed to be waiting or listening for a signal. Caroline looked over her shoulder to see what held his attention. "Señora!" His voice was high and shrill. She turned back to face him and in that instant heard the sharp report of a rifle.

Caroline saw the gleam of his teeth once again. She heard voices and the pounding of feet in the alley. The thin man's smile had vanished and he whispered, "Mother of God." Then he turned and ran down the alley toward the church as though the hounds of hell were on his heels.

The soldiers. Lescaut had promised not to interfere. In a fury Caroline whirled round to look toward the sound of the shot and found Adam in front of her. His hands gripped her shoulders and his voice was harsh. "Are you all right?"

"You frightened them off! You promised, and you frightened them off!" Her voice rose in an angry wail, but by this time Adam was running toward the church.

She turned again toward the mouth of the alley and saw Lescaut walking toward her. "Madame Rawley, I am sorry. The man is dead."

"Dead? He went that way." She pointed to the far end of the alley.

"Not him. The other man, the one with the beard."

Caroline looked beyond Lescaut and saw a soldier bent over the sprawling figure of a man. "You needn't look," Lescaut said as she walked toward them.

Caroline continued till she had reached the figure lying on the ground. He did not look particularly dead. His eyes were open and there was a look of surprise on his face. A dark smear covered the front of his shirt, but Caroline had seen blood before. It was the heavy man with the beard, and he was breathing still. Caroline flung herself upon him and seized him by the shoulders. "Where is she? What have you done with my daughter?"

With a sudden access of strength she shook the heavy man as hard as she could. His face broke into an evil grin. Or perhaps it was only the rictus of death. Desperate that he not escape her, Caroline pressed her cloak against his wound to staunch the bleeding. "Live!" she cried. "May you be damned to hell if you die without telling me. Live, live, live."

The soldier who had been kneeling by the bearded man stared at her in shock. "The man is dead, madame."

Caroline looked at the soldier, then back at the bearded man. The soldier was right. The bearded man had escaped her. In fury, she turned to Lescaut. "You killed him. He knew where Emily is, and you killed him."

"Madame!" the soldier protested.

"He had a rifle." Lescaut's voice was taut with emotion. "He came out of that house there”—he pointed to the doorway where Caroline had waited for the men to appear—“and he carried a rifle. It was aimed at you." Only then did Caroline notice the faint glint of metal a few feet beyond the bearded man's arm.

Lescaut reached down to take her arm and Caroline let him help her to her feet. She could not think clearly. "They were after the dispatch. I showed it to the thin man. I was ready to give it to him. Why should his partner want to shoot me?"

Lescaut seemed puzzled. "I don't know. Perhaps he only intended to threaten you. I did not think at first you were in any danger. Then, when my men saw you pull out the packet and saw the bearded man sight down the barrel... " He turned to the soldier. "Collard, find the others and learn if they've taken the second man."

The soldier saluted and ran off at a trot. Lescaut frowned. "They had orders not to shoot unless I gave word. They knew they were not to shoot to kill. It was Collard who disobeyed. He has a soft heart."

"I should have come alone." Caroline moved away from Lescaut. When he would have come toward her she waved him off. Lescaut shrugged and gave her her distance. The thin man, Caroline prayed, let them find the thin man.

They did not. A long time later—or so it seemed to Caroline, who was staring at the bearded man's feet and thinking of eternity—the soldiers returned with Adam and Hawkins. "We lost him," Adam said in a flat voice. "He went through the church, but he's not there. There's a small side door that was open, but it took us some time to find it. He must have slipped out that way."

"I was watching in the street," one of the soldiers said, "but I didn't see him."

"Imbecile," Lescaut muttered. Then, in a louder voice, "What of the houses backing on the alley?"

The eldest of the soldiers spoke up. "We searched them all. The thin man is not to be found. This one”—he spat at the body of the bearded man—“bribed the servants to let him wait near the back door. They claim they didn't see a rifle."

"God in heaven. Collard, get me twenty men. Bring them here and fan out. I want the thin man found. The rest of you, start asking questions. Try the taverns. He's had a shock and he'll want to bolster his courage."

Caroline watched the soldiers depart. It was strangely quiet in the alley after they had gone. The bells chimed the half-hour. Such a few short minutes to have changed her life forever. The three men remaining were quiet, as though afraid to speak. Hawkins was looking at her with anguished eyes. Lescaut's eyes held an anger equal to her own. Adam had no expression at all on his ravaged face. They had promised to find Emily. They had failed.

"We thought they would keep Emily with them," Adam said at last. "We thought only one man would keep the appointment. But both men were here tonight. That means they had to leave her somewhere. The child would be an inconvenience at this meeting, but they meant Emily no harm. They would look for someone to care for her, and as far as we know they were strangers to Salamanca. Emily was not in any inn or tavern in the city. Robert, what do you do with inconvenient children?"

The ghost of a smile appeared on Lescaut's face.

"Exactly," Adam said. "The Foundling Hospital."

Chapter Eleven

Just when Caroline was ready to break down the door of the Foundling Hospital herself, it was opened by a short, heavily set man with bleary eyes and a suspicious expression. "What do you want?" he demanded, his tone a mixture of hostility and fear.

"A word with your administrator." Lescaut stepped forward so the light spilling out of the doorway shone full on his uniform. "Tell him Colonel Lescaut is here and desires to speak with him."

"He's in his bed." The porter stood his ground, blocking the doorway with his body. "Come back in the morning."

"I think not." Lescaut's tone was courteous, but as he spoke he moved toward the door. The porter had either to get out of his way or physically restrain him from entering the hospital. The porter's eyes narrowed, but at the last second he stepped aside. Lescaut walked into the building as if he had an unassailable right to be there. Caroline hurried after him, Adam and Hawkins close behind her.