As he dried his face, he contemplated his reflection in the mirror above the washbasin. He wasn’t the rash angry young man he had once been. He’d become a man with some success and a myriad of responsibilities. Putting one foot in front of the other, he had walked along on the straight and narrow line for years now. For the first time in a while, he thought about his future. What did he want? Or rather, what did he dare to want?
A pair of twinkling sea green eyes swam to mind. Turning from his reflection and his thoughts, he slipped on his robe and rang for the first order of business this morning, a bath…a cold bath.
****
Jack walked into a nondescript building used by the intelligence arm of the Foreign Office. He told the front doorman, “Captain John Aston to see Lord Winters.”
“Right this way, sir. He is expecting you.”
Jack followed the man down a long hallway and was ushered into a small room dominated by a massive desk. Piles of documents covered every inch of the desk. Paperweights of all shapes and types held the corners of several large maps firmly open. One paperweight, in particular, caught his eye, a bronze mermaid with bare breasts and a siren’s face. Lord Winters came from behind the disarray and crossed the room to greet him.
“Aston, it’s good to see you on English soil for once.”
Jack greeted him warmly. Adam Winters had the sort of plain countenance that helped an agent blend into any scenario. His light brown hair, brown eyes, and average height and build were a deceptively nondescript package. But Winters was wickedly smart as well as incredibly agile and fast. Today he dressed in a dark brown jacket and buff breeches, his cravat slightly askew.
“Winters, it’s good to see you too. It’s been awhile.”
“I read your report on that business in Egypt. Looks like you ran into quite a bit of trouble.”
“I still don’t understand how we were discovered. My meeting with Norton should have appeared entirely normal, just a business meeting. Was he already under suspicion?”
“Norton had no idea his identity had been found out. He was as confused as you about how they discovered he was working undercover.”
“At least I was able to get him and Morgan out safely.”
Winters gave him an assessing look as he gestured for Jack to take a seat. “What’s brought you back to England, Jack?”
“Family. My brother recently lost his wife to fever and my sister is out in society. My mother asked me to come home and take up some of my familial responsibilities.”
“So this trip has nothing to do with this woman behind your recent request for information about the whereabouts Captain Robert Jamieson and Pierre Dubois?”
“No,” Jack lied. “That is just a favor for a friend. She is Jamieson’s daughter. She hasn’t heard from her father in almost seven months. It is very unusual for them not to be in contact, and she is quite worried he has gotten into trouble.”
“The trouble being Dubois?”
“Yes, Jamieson and Dubois have a bad history dating back some twenty years.”
“Well, I don’t know where Jamieson is, but I did receive a reply about Dubois’s location. He is currently docked here in London. He is unloading a shipment of silks from Egypt. All legal and above board according to dock records. But several weeks ago, our men spotted his ship in Le Havre. They observed him meeting with General Napoleon, but what their business is, we don’t know yet. What bothers me is Dubois is essentially a slave trader, despite his recent foray into mercantile goods.” Winters snorted in disbelief. “I have no idea what use he could be to Napoleon. I don’t like having to guess.”
Winters crossed to his desk. Picking up a round paperweight, he leaned back against the desk, tossing it from hand to hand.
Jack frowned, absorbing the information. Dubois docked in London was bad news indeed. If Dubois had made his way to England, what happened to Jamieson? The captain wrote he was in pursuit; how had Dubois gotten past him?
“Perhaps he is using his slave trading as a front for something else. Transporting guns and ammunition perhaps?” Winters nodded his head. Jack continued, “What troubles me is where is Captain Jamieson? Jamieson was following him, looking for his chance at revenge. It’s possible Dubois eluded him or that he himself set a trap for Jamieson. Either way, Jamieson is dancing with the devil.”
“What is Jamieson’s daughter like?”
“She is…surprising. She has a courageous spirit I’ve never encountered in a woman. She talks like a sailor but looks like a faerie.”
Winters ceased tossing the paperweight and stared at him, eyes narrowed. He set down the bronze globe on the desk. “Aston, this woman isn’t going to be a complication for you, is she?”
“What are you implying?” Jack narrowed his own eyes.
“Jack, as a friend I beg you to learn from my experience. My Elizabeth ended up resenting my job duties. She was home alone so often, and she worried constantly. My biggest regret in life is that I was not here in England when she took a tumble off her horse. I wasn’t there to hold her hand in her last moments.” He turned his head to the side, sadness etched in the lines around his eyes.
Jack recognized the regret in Winter’s face. Lord knew he had plenty of his own. But this job wasn’t something you chose. It chose you. Lately, since the ambush, he’d begun to doubt all the reasons he believed he could make a difference in this war.
“Adam, I hear what you are saying. I promise.”
