Renforth regarded him with a faint, knowing look. “I cannot say for certain.” He paused. “But they seem to be looking for it.”
Baines gave a low whistle. “Then we should be most obliging.”
Renforth inclined his head. “Just so. Let us give it to them.”
The fire crackled in the silence that followed, though none of them attended to it.
“We shall require more than readiness,” Arch said quietly, though his voice carried across the room with a baritone that drew each man’s full attention. “They must be persuaded that they themselves have discovered the opportunity.”
“Explain,” Renforth commanded.
Arch stepped nearer the fire at last, though he did not sit down. “If the invitation appears too deliberate, they will suspect a trap. If, however, it reaches them by indirect means—through channels they already trust—they will believe themselves to be clever in uncovering it.”
“Our informant,” Stuart said at once.
“Precisely,” Arch replied. “He must not merely report, he must suggest—a careless remark, perhaps, that a certain gathering is to take place. Not one of importance—merely a dinner, dull and over-attended, as such things often are.”
Fielding gave a faint, thoughtful nod. “And from there?”
“From there,” Arch continued, “they will do the rest. Men of that persuasion are not patient. If they suspect the presence of power gathered in one place, they will convince themselves it is providence.”
Baines let out a quiet breath of amusement. “So we bait them with their own ambition.”
“Just so.”
Renforth folded his hands loosely behind his back. “How do you propose we direct the ruse?”
Arch shifted his tone to be more deliberate. “The dinner must serve two purposes. The first is obvious—to gather the Cabinet in one place. The second is less so—to obscure the true nature of the gathering.”
“Meaning what, precisely?” Stuart asked.
“Meaning,” Arch said, “that the stated purpose must be entirely innocuous. It could be a celebration, perhaps—some minor political success, or a diplomatic courtesy extended to a visiting figure of no real consequence.”
Fielding’s brow lifted faintly. “A foreign attaché?”
“Or the rumour of one,” Arch replied. “That would be enough to justify attendance, but not enough to invite undue scrutiny.”
Baines leaned forward, his interest piqued. “What measures do you suggest for the room itself?”
Arch glanced briefly towards Renforth before answering. “It must be entirely controlled. Servants must either be placed by us or those we trust without question. Entrances will have to be limited and windows secured—but not visibly so. We must allow there to be an illusion of vulnerability.”
“An open door invites ingress,” Stuart murmured.
“And a closed one invites suspicion,” Arch returned. “We require something between the two.”
Renforth inclined his head slightly. “A controlled permeability is required. There must be a safe exit plan for theCabinet members, or we cannot have them present at all. Baines, search for locations to suit our purposes.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” He saluted somewhat mockingly.
Fielding set aside his glass at last. “How do we handle Kendall?”
“Kendall must believe himself instrumental to the whole affair,” Arch said. “If Miss Vale’s proposal has already granted him access to funds, then he will seek to prove his value. We must ensure he sees the dinner as his opportunity to do so.”
Baines gave a low, satisfied hum. “Then he will lead us to the rest.”
“Or they will lead him,” Stuart countered.
Arch inclined his head. “Either serves our purpose.”
