“Tell me,” he said, anger and vengeance spiking through him at how close he stood to seeing these men pay.
“There’s a pub in Southwark, Hogs Huff. I was ta ask the barkeep fur a Flash of Lightning without the thunder.”
A play on words to order a glass of gin.
Jackson forced the phrase to memory and demanded, “And the code name you’d receive in return?”
Hobbs swallowed, his throat working, as if fear of the ring even in his current situation made him hesitate. “Printer,” he said at last, his wide eyes glazed in fear. “The code in return is ‘The Printer.’”
Chapter Eighteen
“The counterfeiter’s bossgoes by The Printer?” Roberts snorted from his leaned position against the window, his gaze on the bustling street outside. “Not very original.”
Jackson threw back his glass of whiskey and winced at the burn down his throat. Now that he was back in London, now that he had the name—a place—he was itching to move. But only idiots made rash decisions when emotions ran high.
“These monsters don’t need originality when they have children doing their dirty work for them,” Jackson said.
The other unsettling tidbit Hobbs had admitted before he’d been carted off by the magistrate, with direct orders to see the man brought before Home Secretary Sidmouth. “Aside from the inner ring, day-to-day exchanges are done by couriers and street urchins for a coin with little-to-no direct connection to the actual business.” Except when the gang needed someone’s carriage axle broken. “The barkeep at the Hog’s Huff will be expecting a young man.” They shared a pointed look between them. “Neither of us fits the bill.”
Roberts sniffed. “I’ve been told I’m quite youthful looking for my age.”
“We need someone younger.” Jackson racked his brain. “Any new recruits from the Home Office we could utilize for a quick bait and trap?”
“None with the steel to make contact without giving everything away.”
“Then we need a fresh face,” Jackson said. “Someone who won’t turn yellow at the first sign of trouble. Someone as reckless as you.”
Roberts threw him a raised brow. “I’d like to meet this young and fearless hero.” He winked. “And scare him straight.”
Jackson ran a hand over his face, knowing the grocer’s list of qualities for another agent was grasping at best.
“I’ll do it,” a voice said.
Both men twisted toward the open door. Even Roberts, the man with nothing but ice and mockery in his veins, looked taken by surprise.
Anna’s expression was hard. “Thisis what you use your empty library for: clandestine meetings.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jackson’s neck went hot. “Anna.” He swallowed. “We didn’t hear you come in.”
How much did she overhear?
“Seems you need someone to impersonate a young man to order a drink at a pub,” she said.
Everything, it seemed.
“It isn’t what you think,” Jackson tried.
“You mean you are not assisting the Home Office with an investigation into a counterfeiting ring and have been lying to me this entire time? Placing guards at my door that are so laughably gullible, they left their post to fetch mewater.” Her tone was mocking. “I’m ever so relieved.”
Jackson wasn’tassisting. He was the leader of the largest team—a collection of some of the most clever and dangerous men in England—and had been for the past four years.
He didn’t correct her.
“I happened to have connections that were useful to the investigation,” he said.
“And I happen to fit your description as a fresh face.”
