Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

‘Just his clerks. Why? Have you done something to excite his interest?’

‘No more than any other man in London.’ George glanced out of the window without enthusiasm. ‘Shall I go now? It is still dark.’

‘Take a torch,’ said Chaloner shortly.

An hour before dawn, Chaloner began to feel the effects of his sleepless night. He would have gone to bed, but Joan was crashing around in the kitchen, and he knew he would never sleep through the racket. He wondered how Hannah could, but a visit to the bedroom showed him that she had stuffed her ears with rags.

Lethargically, he walked to the Rainbow Coffee House, hoping a dish of Farr’s poisonous brew would sharpen his wits. The only customer at that hour was Grey, the Adventurer who had caused such consternation by disappearing with a woman. He was sitting in the corner, crying softly.

‘Weeping for Turner and Lucas,’ explained Farr in a low voice. ‘They died in a fire last night, along with Turner’s family and servants. Twelve people in all. A terrible tragedy.’

To give Grey privacy, Chaloner picked up The Newes , just off the presses that morning, and began to read. Home news comprised two main reports: that Dover expected to be invaded by the Dutch at any moment because the wind was in the right direction, and that a purple bed-cloth had been stolen from Richmond. Foreign intelligence revolved around the fact that the Swedish ambassador was expected at White Hall the following Tuesday, where he would attend a feast.

In smaller type were the advertisements. One promoted the exhibition that Farr had mentioned the last time Chaloner had visited the Rainbow:

At the Mitre near the West-end of St Paul’s is to be seen a rare Collection of Curiosities much resorted to, and admired by Persons of great Learning and Quality: among with, a choyce Egyptian Mummy with hieroglyphicks and the Ant Beare of Brasil; a Remora; a Torpedo; the huge Thigh-bone of a Gyant; a Moon Fish; a Tropick Bird amp; C .

Although intrigued by the torpedo in particular, Chaloner doubted he would have the time to see the display. He finished the coffee, nodded a farewell to Farr, and set off for Chancery Lane.

Lincoln’s Inn’s grounds had recently been replanted, and had gone from a pleasantly tangled wilderness to a garden of manicured precision. Chaloner was still not sure he liked it, but Thurloe did, and spent a lot of time there. It was usually deserted at dawn, a time the ex-Spymaster spent in quiet contemplation before the day began.

‘I have been expecting you,’ Thurloe said, as Chaloner materialised out of the gloom and fell into step beside him. It was not raining, but the garden had endured a good soaking during the night, and the paths were soggy underfoot. ‘I want you to purchase a handgun for yourself.’

‘Why?’ asked Chaloner suspiciously.

‘Because this case has a dangerous feel, and a sword is no defence against firearms. Here is a purse. No, do not refuse it — it is not my silver, it is Fitzgerald’s. He did not best me every time I tackled him, and I have been saving it for a time when it might be used against him. Which is now.’

Chaloner accepted reluctantly. Not only did he dislike taking money from friends, regardless of its provenance, but he had never been comfortable with the unpredictability of guns. They were, however, obscenely expensive, and he certainly could not have afforded to purchase one on his own salary.

‘Tell me what you have learned,’ instructed Thurloe, after they had walked in silence for a while, their footsteps alternately crunching and squelching.

‘That Fitzgerald has a master. Unfortunately, no one seems to know who he is.’

Thurloe nodded. ‘I suspected as much. I shall ask my old spies for a name. What else?’

‘He said he had scored a great victory over his “enemies” — presumably the men who oppose the Piccadilly Company — in revenge for Reyner, and it seems he arranged the deaths of Turner and Lucas. He probably tossed Proby off the roof of St Paul’s, too. Certainly, he believes that Reyner was killed in retaliation. And Proby, Turner and Lucas were Adventurers …’

‘So Fitzgerald’s foes — listed on the Vigenère cipher — are Adventurers? I thought the Adventurers were respectable men, not the kind to engage in tit-for-tat killings with pirates.’

‘Secretary Leighton is not respectable! He is alleged to have accrued vast wealth by criminal means. Moreover, most Adventurers are courtiers, and the words “courtier” and “respectable” are mutually exclusive. However, we shall know for certain when you decode the cipher.’

‘I am afraid I cannot. I worked on it all night, but it is beyond me. So I sent a copy to John Wallis, who was my code-breaker during the Commonwealth. If he cannot crack it, no one can.’

Chaloner hoped it would not take long. ‘So we have two commercial operations at war with each other — the Adventurers and the Piccadilly Company. The Adventurers have lost three of their number, and the Piccadilly Company has lost one.’

Thurloe was thoughtful. ‘The Adventurers comprise wealthy courtiers and merchants, and include men such as the Duke of Buckingham, Congett, Secretary Leighton and several members of your Earl’s household — Hyde, Brodrick, Dugdale and Edgeman. They have declared a monopoly on trading with Africa, and are greedy but inefficient.’

‘Meanwhile, the Piccadilly Company comprises a pirate, a Dutch couple, a Portuguese, two Tangier scouts, Harley’s sister, Pratt and the enigmatic Mr Jones. They send glassware to New England and bring gravel back — a venture that necessitates hiring Brinkes to ensure secrecy.’

‘Their sea-routes lie in opposite directions,’ mused Thurloe. ‘And they deal in different commodities. They should not be rivals, yet they are killing each other. It makes no sense.’

Chaloner’s mind wandered to the mysteries he had been ordered to solve, and the way the two organisations featured in them. ‘I have four cases — Cave’s death, the Tangier massacre, the Queen’s letters about Pratt, and the stolen bricks. They are so different that they should be unrelated, yet there are strands linking each one to the others.’

‘Explain,’ ordered Thurloe.

‘First Cave. He and Elliot stabbed each other in a duel over Brilliana. She is Harley’s sister, and they live in Piccadilly. So does Pratt, whose latest house is the victim of stolen supplies, and who himself may be the target of an assassination.’

‘And Pratt is a member of the Piccadilly Company,’ mused Thurloe. ‘As is Harley.’

‘Harley is also one of the scouts whose intelligence sent Teviot to his death. Moreover, Elliot was Williamson’s spy, and his duties entailed monitoring the Crown. His wife — his deranged wife — lives in the Crown’s garret. And Cave sang duets with Fitzgerald, another member of the Piccadilly Company. Then there is the connection between Elliot and Pepperell.’

‘Who?’

‘The captain of Eagle — Elliot’s friend Lester thinks it suspicious that two sea-officers should die within such a short space of time of each other. Pepperell was murdered by Brinkes — the man charged with ensuring that Piccadilly Company meetings are not disturbed. I will hunt down Brilliana today, to see what she can tell me about her dead lovers — and about her brother, too. Lester is also looking into it, on Williamson’s behalf.’

‘Lester,’ said Thurloe disapprovingly. ‘Stay away from him. I distrust him intensely.’

‘Do you? I rather like him.’

‘Oh, I am sure he is charm itself. However, do not forget that he was present at the beginning of the spat that saw Elliot and Cave dead.’