Page 113 of The Truth Serum
If she had any doubt before that her brother was involved, it disappeared now. It was Fletcher, dressed in his ballroom finery. He’d pulled on an overcoat, but she recognized it. His voice and the condescension in his words were typical Fletcher. He had no respect for his co-conspirator but was excited to get good money out of the French.
Worse, he knew the box contained rifles. Good English guns that were better than anything else on the continent. And he didn’t care that they would likely kill English boys. It was all about the coin and how often this exchange happened.
A traitor. Her brother.
Or rather, a would-be traitor because it was clear from his conversation that this was his first time making an exchange. She looked at the baron.
“Who handles this when my brother isn’t here?”
“My brother. And he’s terrible at it.” He flashed her his teeth. She wasn’t sure if it was a grin or an implied threat. “Though I’m always here watching.”
He’d directed the hackney to wait nearby in case he needed to depart quickly. Just in case this was a trap, which it most definitely was.
Damn it, she couldn’t let this go on. She couldn’t let her brother sell rifles to the Friench. And she couldn’t let him bearrested and hung. He was an awful brother, but that didn’t mean she wanted him dead. There were precious few options here, and time was ticking away.
And while she sat there, everything got worse. The baron pushed her down onto the floor. She might have been able to break his hold, but she saw no reason to fight him yet. So she ended up with her bottom on the floor in her ballgown while he…
He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at her brother.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Just in case of trouble.”
She looked at him. She looked at her brother. And then she watched as the door opened again and the two Frenchman walked it. She didn’t recognize one of them. He was a broad man with sturdy legs who looked like he could single-handedly carry the box of rifles. And the other Frenchman? It was clearly Nate. Dressed differently and with a beard, but she would know the shape of his body anywhere. Even when he slumped and shuffled his feet.
And so the negotiations began. Fletcher had made some small effort to lower his voice before, but he wasn’t now. And so she made her choice.
Given no other options, she went with the only action that might save her brother.
She screamed.
Chapter Thirty
The easiest thingNate had to do all day was transform into a Frenchman. He donned a hat, rubbed dirt on his face, then adopted a hunching gait and a scowl.
He’d feared that the Frenchmen wouldn’t give up the meeting location, but a stroke of luck made that easy. They’d written it out on a crude map, complete with the time and amount of money. Indeed, it was so lucky that Major Vance began to grumble. He distrusted easy things. Nate, however, never questioned luck. He just thanked it with all his heart.
Very soon, the two of them headed to the meeting place. Nate let the major lead, doing his best to hide in the background in case Becca couldn’t keep the baron occupied at the ball. Lord Benedict stayed even further behind, waiting in the shadows because he was a good shot, but a bad brawler.
Normally, Nate would have arrived early. He would have liked to scout the area, but there wasn’t time. Indeed, they were very nearly late by the time everything was sorted. And so he went in with as many knives as he could hide on his body. Guns were too uncertain in close quarters.
They entered the warehouse, swaggering with confidence that was a complete lie, only to have all of it dissolve the moment he saw the English traitors.
The baron’s half-brother was no surprise. They’d already put together the connection to Corporal Skewes, but it was nice to have the guess confirmed. It was seeing Fletcher that set Nateback on his heels. Nate had assumed Fletcher wasn’t deeply involved yet, but obviously he was wrong. He wasn’t completely surprised, but he knew this would destroy Becca. For all his faults, Fletcher was still her brother, and she loved him.
Nevertheless, Nate’s job was to stop England’s traitors. Brother or not, Fletcher was going to be arrested.
The major began the exchange, only for everyone to realize that Fletcher was brand new at this kind of thing. Or he was trying to show off for someone’s benefit. Either way, there was way too much posturing.
Fletcher crowed as he opened the first crate, talking about how superior the English rifles were to anything else the French had. Then he asked for the money, and the major tossed him the purse.
Fletcher made a show of looking at it, then he rocked back on his heels. “This’ll get you one crate,” he said, shoving the first crate forward. “The second will cost you.”
“That wasn’t the agreement,” the major growled.
“It is now,” Fletcher said, as he dropped his boot on top of the other crate. “You’ve got more on you. You Frenchies always do.”
Good God, how stupid could he be? Napoleon didn’t go about handing large purses to his smugglers, and no one shoved a box full of rifles forward then demanded more money. That was handing over weapons that could be turned against him.
