Page 68 of The Swan Syndicate
“How long do we have to wait for Parsons?” Beckworth asked.
TheDaphnehad made port in the sleepy seaside village in time for lunch. On the captain’s orders, everyone stayed onboard except for the team sent to procure the contraband. Jamie had moored just inside the bay so they could leave as soon as the meeting was over. A weather system was coming, and he was concerned it would impact their arrival in Tenby.
Fitz, Lando, Lane, and Beckworth had rowed the jolly boat to a pier and went directly to the single pub. The only ships at port were small fishing boats, which meant most of the pub’s customers were likely local villagers. Fitz ate his stew quickly, then disappeared in search of his contact. The rest of them relaxed and drank ale as they waited.
It was an hour before Fitz returned and waved at the busy server, who dropped a mug of ale in front of him.
“Well?” Lando asked after waiting for Fitz to swallow his first sip.
“He said give him an hour and we’ll meet him at an old barn on the far side of his property. It’s close and won’t take more than a half hour to get there. We might as well drink.”
And like the hour before Fitz had returned, no one spoke of MacDuff, Cheval, or the mission. Instead, talk turned to the hunting party.
“Do you think we’ll make it back in time for it?” Lando asked.
“It would be a shame to miss your own party.” Fitz lit his pipe, puffing out a pleasant scent with a touch of cherry essence.
“It depends on what happens with MacDuff. I don’t think the intent was to set up a full trade.” Beckworth hadn’t given the hunting weekend more than a passing thought. His focus had been on Stella and the mission. Each step more dangerous than the last.
“The only information we need from the next meeting is where MacDuff usually does his trading and if he’ll tell Stella something about his smuggling operation.” Lando tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze constantly returning to the door. “Hensley will have to decide what he wants to do with the information.”
“What will MacDuff do if we don’t make the final meeting place?” Lane asked.
Beckworth shrugged. “He’ll either think Stella found the partnership not as lucrative as she’d hoped or simply changed her mind for no specific reason.” He grinned. “As women are wont to do.”
They laughed but didn’t disagree. It wasn’t unusual for smugglers to consider an enticing offer too great a risk, or they might have discovered they were being followed by patrols. If MacDuff ever met up with theDaphneagain, it would be easy enough to say they’d been paid to run cargo for Lady Swan, but it hadn’t worked out. Jamie had run the smuggling game since Finn owned theDaphneand would know how to handle the situation.
When the time came, they exited the pub to a stronger coastal wind. Beckworth glanced up to a smattering of clouds. It would be best if they got this done and set sail before the storm.
The walk to the property didn’t take long. Without Fitz, they would have stumbled around the woods for days. A narrow deer trail was the only direct entrance to the old barn from town. On the far side of the barn, a rut-filled path, just wide enough for a wagon, meandered into the woods.
“Where does that path lead?” Beckworth asked.
Fitz waved off to his right. “It winds around several twists and turns before coming out to another well-disguised path that meets up with the main road. He only uses it when the cargo has to be moved so it looks unused.”
The barn door was closed but a horse swished its tail by a nearby tree.
Fitz knocked on the barn door and waited.
An old man, short and stocky, with a wild crop of dust brown hair and a round face, opened the door. He squinted as he peered out and gave the four men a long look. Somewhat satisfied he stepped back. “Come in.” He left the door open and disappeared into the dimly lit space.
Lando went first, followed by Beckworth and Lane, while Fitz closed the door. The barn appeared empty. If there had ever been hay stored in it, the forage had disintegrated into the dirt long ago. A single lantern sat toward the back of the barn, and it wasn’t until they walked closer that Beckworth made out a door. He stood back. The wall ran the width of the barn. To the casual eye, it appeared to be the backside of the barn.
Parsons picked up the lantern and opened the door, leading them into another room. It was the same width of the barn but only twenty feet deep. Another lantern sat on top of what was one of many crates that took up most of the room. Several stacks of kegs lined the far-right wall. A smuggler’s hideaway.
“Fitz said you were interested in a crate of weapons to entice MacDuff.” Parsons eyed the group, probably trying to determine if someone other than Fitz was in charge.
Lando nodded. “Flintlocks. A few cannonballs. Maybe a keg of gunpowder.”
“And maybe a fine dress or two,” Fitz added as he snorted and glanced at Beckworth.
Parsons lifted a brow and gave Beckworth a slight smile. “Like dresses, huh.” He studied Beckworth, who blandly stared back. “To each their own. Let’s see what I have.”
It didn’t take long to lift two crates to the ground.
Beckworth whistled when the first one was opened, and he picked up one of the rifles. “These are French.”
Parsons nodded. “They’re harder to come by but worth the risk for the price I get for them. English ones are easier to get, but I’d rather keep as many of them out of Napoleon’s reach as I can.”
