The sound rocketed around the small space, the ringing in Andrew’s ears like a welcome to hell. He spun around.
The two footmen sprawled on the floor, both spattered with blood, their eyes glinting in the moonlight, their jaws dropping. Between them, the bloodied body of Bartolini lay, crumpled and most definitely dead.
Taking a step back, Andrew fumbled for his weapon, but he was not fast enough. With the smoking pistol still in one hand, Court clapped another to Andrew’s forehead.
A strange calm settled over Andrew, as Court visibly swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down in his throat. He’d pulled back the hammer. The stink of black powder singed Andrew’s nostrils.
“Drop your weapons on the ground,” Court said.
Andrew had very little choice, except to take his time. His hands surprisingly steady, he pretended to fumble until Court pressed the barrel firmer into his skull. “We don’t have all night.”
Somewhere, a church clock chimed the half hour. That would make the time half past ten. Would he see eleven?
If Smith and Bull had not stepped forward to take Bartolini’s arms, Court would not have taken them by surprise. But the two men were heavily armed, much more than Andrew.
Court nodded to the men. “You two do the same or your master is a dead man.”
Plucking the pistols from his pocket, Andrew dropped them to the ground and held his arms out from his sides. “Do you want to kill me too? I won’t be so easy.”
“I’ll think of something. Bartolini tried to escape. I had no choice but to shoot him.”
Two men stepped out from the shadows. In that moment, Andrew understood Court meant to kill him and the two footmen. A fool, no doubt, but a fool with friends.
“I have witnesses.” Court sounded harsh, his voice tight.
Could Andrew use that tension against him? A moment’s reflection persuaded him of the folly of taking that course. All he could think was that he regretted with all his heart never knowing Darius in the true sense of the word, in the most intimate way possible. He’d been a fool, giving up his happiness for fear.
He was afraid now. His mind raced. There must be a way out, there had to be. Keep talking, that was the first thing. “Unlike that poor unfortunate, I will be missed. Questions will be asked.”
“I will not be here to listen. I was never here.”
Of course he was. They were ambushed and murdered by persons unknown. That was what would be said. Court could claim to be anywhere. Dissipated in a whorehouse, or in the country, obeying his father’s edict.
Or did General Court know? Was his son doing this with his approval?
“So you plan to sell the list twice?”
Court ground the gun harder against Andrew’s head, but Andrew didn’t try to back away. Court was trying to overwhelm him, make him tremble with fear. Even though Andrew was aware his hands shook, he would not give the man the pleasure of knowing. He clenched his fists, balling them tight to still the movement.
That was what he would do. He was not entirely unprepared. He’d always been good with his hands. One moment’s distraction and he could get that weapon away and plant a facer on his enemy.
“Bartolini already paid you for the list. Do you need money that badly? Badly enough to murder for it?”
“Yes.”
Chapter 14
The damned problem was that Darius had already sent his best men with Andrew. He’d thought to protect him against Bartolini, but as matters turned out, he needed more protection against Court.
As he stood by his horse, about to swing into the saddle, his cousin Ivan approached him. A few moments’ conversation and Ivan was in possession of the few salient facts he needed. He returned to his own dwelling and had a horse saddled for his own use.
Darius accepted his help with relief. Ivan was a principal in the business they owned with Darius’s twin, Valentinian, but more than that, he was a good man in a tight spot.
He listened to the rest of the story as they paused for refreshments and horses on the way. The second horse Andrew had was a slug, and he was forced to change again at the next inn. Fortunately, this one proved younger and more amenable, meaning another agonizing wait. At least he could outline the situation.
“So you love this man,” Ivan’s dark brows rose slightly, the statement more a question, and his blue eyes gleamed.
“Haven’t you been listening? It’s the security of the nation at stake!”
Ivan curled his lip. “Isn’t it always? But this is different, is it not? This matters to you in another way. Don’t try to deny it, Darius. Every time you say his name your expression softens.”
“You should have been a lawyer,” Darius grumbled. “You’re as bad as Andrew.” Using the first name was a tacit acceptance, since he’d taken care to say “Mr. Graham” up to now.
“In any case, in court last year, when you should have been paying attention to Val, you couldn’t take your eyes off Andrew Graham.”
Darius shrugged and bit into the meat pie the landlady had brought out. She’d provided two and a collection of victuals they could, if necessary, eat on horseback. Darius had stuffed a saddlebag with bread, slices of cold meat, and some cheese, as well as a bottle of beer he had no intention of trying to quaff while he was galloping ventre a terre. “Maybe,” he said when he’d cleared his mouth. He took another bite and chewed appreciatively. “But he’s a widower with a small daughter, and he has a living to make.”
Ivan snorted. “You’re an Emperor.”
“I have to persuade him of that.”
The landlord brought a fine chestnut for Darius’s use. After checking the girth, Darius swung into the saddle and took the reins, thanking the landlord with a nod. He pocketed the token that would tell the next inn they stopped at where the horse belonged, and they took to the road once more.
At last, Dover came into sight, the forest of masts providing a counterpoint to the smooth stone of the castle, its round shape distinctive even in the moonlight. They had risked footpads and highwaymen riding here after dark, but what else could they do?
They trotted into town, deciding to go straight to the courtyard where the meeting with Bartolini was supposed to take place. Darius had the address of the meeting, but no idea where the yard was. Nor, it appeared, did anybody else they asked. Until they stopped at an inn.
There, one of the workmen knocking back his beer told him, although it took both Darius and Ivan to work out the directions. It was not that they did not remember, merely that the directions were somewhat idiosyncratic.
After discovering a street with the same name as the courtyard, they took the gamble that the yard lay close. They were right, but they had to tether their mounts and walk slowly up the street before they detected the narrow alleyway.
What clinched the matter was the sound of Andrew’s voice.
“Do you need money that badly? Badly enough to murder for it?”
The blast of a pistol discharged exploded in Darius’s head. Dragging out his own weapon, he took off at a run.