The half hour that followed consisted of aimless rants about the government and a few hints at riots, but naught was definite and so when a fourth jug of ale had been emptied, the meeting concluded.
Hugh rose and Roberts clapped him on the back. “Be good to see what you’re made of, Davies. Our Darnell will send word.”
“Glad to be of service at last.” Hugh shook his hand, fingers cracking, before he filed out after Forsyth.
Some of the men piled to the bar for more ale but Hugh made his way to the street where the brume was so thick it felt like a tangible entity. He barged through it, mind in tumult from what he’d learned.
Revolution and chaos. Death and betrayal.
Rainham’s infiltrator would likely inform him of the Ravens’ plans to aid revolution but Hugh should also send a message post-haste.
And who the hell was this Lady T?
He should re-check the two ladies Ross had crossed off. Or it could be Tremlach, the last lady on the list? Or…was Sir Edmund’s wife, Lady Twyford, slipping secrets with or without her husband’s knowledge?
Hell and damnation.More questions than answers as per usual.
His lone frustrated footsteps echoed off the brick walls of the warehouses and he glanced over one shoulder as shadows shifted in the frigid fog, the glow of the streetlamp colouring it in a noxious pallor.
It was said the ghost of Captain Kidd haunted this street as nigh a century past, the pirate had met his end at ExecutionDock – hung, tarred and displayed in a cage for three years – but Hugh was more concerned with corporeal villains this night.
The type who–
“Hey, Davies!”
Hugh turned beneath a corner streetlamp to see a broad-shouldered man bearing down upon him through the fog. The figure came closer, became enveloped in the hazy globe of light and…
“Darnell?”
“Aye.” A hand clamped to Hugh’s shoulder. “Thought we should have a wee talk.”
“About?”
A flash of silver in the sickly light and a knife tip wedged itself against Hugh’s gizzards.
“About how ye ain’t Lieutenant Davies, are ye?”
Hugh’s breath misted. “Are you testing me again, Darnell?”
“Och no.” A grim smile curved his lips. “Roberts knows who ye are. And soon enough, yer’ll be feeding the worms.”
Hugh returned his own grim smile. “The message he received.”
Darnell shrugged. “I thought to give ye a fighting chance though, so I’ve only brought two of the brothers with me.”
Hugh peered past the Scotsman’s shoulder.
The one-eyed Cleavers and another thickset cove appeared from the fog.
Hugh nodded slowly as though ceding to his fate, then…
Flung an arm under Darnell’s, twisted hard, sent the blade skywards. With the other hand, he grabbed at the brute’s windpipe with thumb and fingers.
Squeezed.
A choked howl but Darnell broke the hold, bent double, clutched his throat as the thickset cove charged, a club raised. Hugh twisted side on into a Pankration stance and before theclub could swing, kicked out with his heel, slamming it to the cove’s guts.
Hands to stomach, the wretch dropped to his knees, but Cleavers had sneaked from behind and a broad arm choked Hugh’s neck, dragged him back, a growl at his ear.
