“Wheatley is likely an alias,” Hawk said. “And perhaps our man does not have a history of robbery. From what I’ve learned from Miss Farley and Mrs. Swann, I would say his greatest strength lies in manipulation. He is charming, particularly with the opposite sex. When the opportunity presents itself, he is also capable of violent behavior…indeed, according to Mrs. Swann, he may even enjoy it. She kicked him out of her club for abusing his lover, a woman named Sarah Mallery.”
“Sick bastard,” Pearson muttered.
“Auberville said that Wheatley had a female accomplice whose description matches that of Miss Mallery. After Auberville shot Wheatley in the arm, Wheatley returned fire, and Miss Mallery apparently tried to intervene. Unfortunately, Wheatley’s shot hit Lady Auberville instead. And I found this in the carriage.”
Reaching into his pocket, Hawk took out an old confectionary box and removed the lid. Inside was a scrap of cheap linen he’d found on the floor of the Aubervilles’ carriage.
“Auberville said that after his wife was shot, the female accomplice took out this handkerchief, intending to stanch Lady Auberville’s wound,” he explained. “But the gang’s leader dragged her away, and she dropped it.”
“Handkerchiefs like those are two a penny.” Devlin tilted his head. “Is there something on it that we can trace? A scent, perhaps.”
As Devlin reached for the evidence, Hawk halted him.
“Careful,” he said tersely. “The handkerchief contains traces of a white powder. I noticed it on my gloves last night, which is why I’ve kept it in a box.”
Devlin’s gaze slitted. “Poison, do you think?”
“I am not certain.” To be safe, Hawk closed the box.
“I’ll have a chemist try to identify this powder,” Swinburne said. “In the meantime, we must split up and track the clues. Trent, go to Newgate and question the guards and prisoners. See if you can find any leads to this Wheatley fellow. Hawksmoor, help Trent while I work on gaining access to the Newgate prisoner files for the last five years; I’ll want you to review them.”
Hawk jerked his chin in assent.
“Pearson,” Swinburne went on. “Auberville claims that he shot Wheatley in the arm. See if there are any sightings of an injured man near the attack. Check with physicians in the vicinity, too, in case Wheatley sought medical attention.”
“Got it, sir,” Pearson said.
“Devlin, dig up any information you can on this Sarah Mallery.” Swinburne’s keen gaze circled the room. “That’s it for now, gentlemen. Let’s get this bastard. Hawksmoor, I’d like a word.”
After the door closed behind the others, the spymaster faced Hawk.
“I think your hunch was correct,” Swinburne said grimly. “We have a leak.”
Hawk nodded. He’d begun to suspect there was a mole after von Essen’s untimely demise. The Sherwood Band always seemed a step ahead...as if they had inside information. Last night’s breakthrough in the case confirmed Hawk’s suspicions; when he had kept his plans concealed, they had made progress.
“Do you have any suspects in mind?” he asked.
“It could be any one of the men who just left. Or it could be a problem in the police force.” Swinburne slammed a palm against the table. “Goddamnit, this is the last thing we need. We don’t have the resources to go hunting for a mole. And we’re close to wrapping up the case—I can feel it in my bones.”
“What should we do, sir?”
Swinburne exhaled. “For now, nothing. We’ll keep this between us…but keep your guard up. I want you to report directly to me and only to me.”
Hawk nodded.
“Carry on, then.”
“Actually, sir. I have something else to discuss.” Hawk drew a breath. “As you know, I have recently wed. My marriage has led to a change in my circumstances.”
“You are not resigning, are you?” Swinburne said with alarm.
“No. I cannot, however, continue to keep my work a secret from my wife. I request your permission to tell her the truth.”
With crystal clarity, Hawk knew that he wanted to share everything with Fiona. He wanted the old, idealistic dream, the one he’d given up on until he found himself miraculously living it. He didn’t know how his marriage of convenience had turned into the love of a lifetime, but he was done questioning it. He wanted to move forward. Wanted to remove all barriers between him and his love…which meant he could no longer work as a spy without her knowledge.
Swinburne studied him. “You did not have a problem with discretion before.”
By “before,” Hawk knew that his superior was referring to his prior marriage.
