“And it’s not Private Nagata?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Chip hesitated. It was too good an offer to turn down. “Another visit to Roadsend might help. I’m not sure what I’ll find, but it’s the best place to look.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Chip headed across town, feeling both pleased and anxious. LeCoup’s intervention was encouraging, but it served to remind her that she was running out of time. In two weeks, the period of secondment to Eastern would end. If she could not get the evidence to prove Takeda’s guilt by then, she would have to give up.
Back at the Three Barrels, she picked Katryn to help with taking the inventory of lost stock. It gave them a chance to talk over everything again. What they needed was a witness to the argument between Ellis and Takeda or, failing that, proof that Ellis knew Takeda’s sister was the one responsible for the disaster. No new ideas had occurred to either of them by the time they finished the inventory.
*
Katryn trotted across the square toward the Old Ford Inn, carrying the list of items. The sun had dropped behind the rooftops, and already, torches framed the entrance to the inn. The wind was picking up, and an icy bite had returned to the air. Racing to get out of the cold, Katryn leaped up the steps and collided in the doorway with another woman in a Ranger’s uniform.
The single star of a lieutenant’s badge was the first thing to register. “Sorry, ma’am,” Katryn blurted out, snapping to attention even before she recognized Bergstrom’s face. The two stared at each other. Katryn dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
Bergstrom looked flustered but collected herself quickly. “Be more careful in the future.” Her voice was as sharp as her gaze.
“Yes, ma’am,” Katryn said. She looked at Bergstrom’s back as it retreated. The lieutenant had seemed startled rather than surprised; Katryn guessed that Jan had let people know she was in the 23rd. She wondered how much else had been said.
*
Chip and Katryn returned to the inn later that night. Probably, Bergstrom knew nothing that would be of use to them. However, she was one of the few survivors of the massacre, and Chip wanted to take the opportunity to try to see what information could be had. It was not going to be easy. Not only did Chip have no authority to question a senior officer, but she also did not want to mention Takeda or her sister by name.
The room allocated to Bergstrom was on the upper floor of a wing overlooking the courtyard. Katryn went with Chip as far as the lobby at the top of the stairs but decided not to join in the interview with her former lieutenant. Chip walked the last few meters alone and knocked on the door.
Immediately, a voice bade her to enter. Bergstrom sat at a table littered with dispatches. “What is it?” Her tone was peeved. She was obviously not pleased by what she was reading.
Chip snapped smartly to attention. “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Sergeant Coppelli of the 23rd Squadron. Would it be convenient for you to talk to me?”
“I can spare ten minutes,” Bergstrom said, putting down the sheet she had been holding.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Chip paused briefly, adopting a more relaxed stance. “I think you are aware that Private Nagata is now in the 23rd?” Bergstrom nodded. “She is a member of my patrol. I heard about the incidents in the 12th and why she left. Naturally, I was concerned, and I have been trying to see if I can get to the bottom of it.”
“Lieutenant Sanchez in Roadsend would be a better person to talk to than me. If you can’t get to meet her, I’m sure she would send you a report.”
“Yes, ma’am. Actually, I’ve spoken to her already. As an offshoot to our conversation, I’ve become interested in the events concerning the massacre of the 12th by the outlaw known as the Mad Butcher.”
The effect on Bergstrom was instantaneous. Her eyes narrowed, and she sat up straighter. However, her voice remained neutral. “In what way?”
Chip picked her words cautiously; she did not want to be the one to mention Takeda’s name. “Apparently, someone slipped a warning to the gang. I wonder if you had any idea who it was.”
“Why? What makes you think I have anything more to say? I told everything I knew at the time.” The defensive edge to Bergstrom’s voice was unmistakable.
“It’s just that you were there. You knew the other survivors and those who died. Even if you don’t have anything more to say on your own account, I wonder whether you think Sergeant Ellis might have known the identity of the informer?” Chip tried to keep the situation calm. Too late, she remembered that Bergstrom had been the target of ridicule from Ellis on the subject of the battle.
“Sergeant Ellis? Exactly what are you getting at?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t want to be too blunt, but I think I know who leaked the information. I wondered if there was anything you could add.”
Bergstrom leaped to her feet. “No. I don’t know what you’re implying, and I don’t see the relevance of this to Sergeant Ellis’ death. If you have looked into things at all, you will know that I never talked to the woman more than I could help. Certainly not about—”
It was time to retreat. “Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am.”
Bergstrom continued to glare as Chip backed out of the room. Just as she reached for the door handle, the lieutenant spoke again, her voice clipped. “Sergeant, if you start spreading gossip and accusations, I will ensure that it is treated as a severe disciplinary matter. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Chip escaped.
“How did it go?” Katryn asked after the door had shut.
Chip only groaned by way of answer.
“What happened?”
“She threatened me with disciplinary action.”
“Over what?”
“Come on. Let’s get away from here.” Chip indicated the exit with her thumb. When they were on the stairs, she continued, speaking quietly. “Bergstrom is very, very touchy about the affair. I guess years of Ellis’ accusing her of cowardice have left a permanent scar. Maybe she thought I was going to dredge the whole thing up again. She might even have thought I was implying that she killed Ellis because of the jeering. She certainly took it personally. We didn’t get anywhere near discussing Takeda.”
At the bottom of the stairs was a door to the outside. Chip pushed it open and stepped into the courtyard. She stopped to gather her thoughts. Her eyes fixed on the glittering display of stars in the cold night sky. “I’m sure it was her sister who tipped off the Butcher, but we need real proof that will stand up in a court-martial.”
Katryn waited beside her. “And what are our chances of getting that?”
Chip pursed her lips. “I need to go to Roadsend. Fortunately, Captain LeCoup has promised to send me there before we finish our time with Eastern. Maybe I can talk to Quartermaster Adebayo and look through the Militia records. We’re so close to making our case, we can’t stop now.”
Chip’s eyes carried across the sky. Directly overhead was the window of Bergstrom’s room, slightly ajar despite the cold. She sighed. Talking to the lieutenant had been a total waste of time. “Let’s get back to the Three Barrels and warm up.”
*
Katryn laid her cards on the table and scooped up the small pile of coins. The others at the table expressed good-natured resignation. One of the Rangers swept up the cards and molded them into a neat pack, which she rapped on the table. “Are you going to give us a chance to get it back?”
“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead and use my winnings to buy everyone a drink,” Katryn replied.
Corporal Lee Horte immediately stretched out her hand to stop the woman who was shuffling the cards. “Don’t distract Katryn when she’s having a good idea.”
General laughter greeted the words. Katryn twisted around in her chair and signaled to the bar staff. While
she waited for someone to come to take the order, she listened to the banter of her comrades. She felt happy and relaxed. She was even starting to believe that joining the Rangers had not been such a horrendous mistake—but at that moment, the one aching regret in her life surged to the forefront of her thoughts. Chip had sauntered into the taproom. Katryn felt her stomach flip over.
The sergeant wandered over to their table. “Lee, Katryn, can I have a quick word with you?” The two followed Chip to one side of the room and waited for her to speak. “I’ve just been talking with Captain LeCoup. The Eastern Division officers’ meeting finishes today. LeCoup has volunteered C Patrol for courier duties. We need two Rangers to go to Roadsend and give the lieutenant the report, so that she knows where she has to go to meet up with her captain and the rest of the squadron. That will be Katryn and me. We also need two Rangers to go to Monday Market and pass similar information on to the half of 19th Squadron that’s been stationed there. Finally, we need couriers for the 12th at Clemswood.”
“That isn’t one of the split squadrons. Why won’t Bergstrom be taking the message back?” Katryn asked.
“Apparently, she’s been called away to pay her last respects to a relative who’s at death’s door. She went last night, as soon as she’d finished giving the report from the 12th.” Chip turned to Lee. “I’d like you to be one of the women who goes to Clemswood. You know how we’ve been trying to find out who murdered Katryn’s old sergeant?” Lee nodded. She was aware of most of the facts. “Katryn obviously can’t go, and I really want to talk to Sanchez, but it would be useful to have someone try to pick up gossip from the ordinary Rangers.”
“There’s someone called Bo Hassan who’s a great source of stories,” Katryn suggested.
Chip nodded her agreement. “Time the journey so that you get to spend an evening there and chat with people. Pick someone from the patrol to go with you—someone nosy but discreet.”
“Find someone nosy but discreet?” Lee repeated slowly, looking pained. “You know, one of the great things about having you as a sergeant is that I get such challenging assignments.”
Chapter Twenty—The Old Mill
“Are you Sergeant Coppelli?” Little more then a nose was visible in the gap below the hood. The girl was lost in layers of what looked like rags, although there possibly were a few complete garments among them.
“Yes.”
“The lady said you’d give me twenty cents if I gave you this.” The urchin held up a scrap of paper.
“The…who?”
“She didn’t say who she was.”
Chip bent down to get a better view of the girl’s face. The fidgety eyes told her all she needed to make a guess. “Twenty cents? On top of what she already paid you?” Chip’s tone dripped with skepticism.
The urchin shuffled her feet and then gave a broad grin. “Well, no harm in me asking, was there?”
Chip held out her hand for the letter, her curiosity seething to know who had paid a street urchin to act as go-between. Who even knew she was in Roadsend? “Okay, but there’s ten cents in it if you describe the woman and tell me when and where you met her.”
“Just an ordinary farmer. I think I’ve seen her around once or twice on market days. Don’t know where she’s from. She came up to me five minutes ago, when I was standing over there.” The girl held out a grubby finger. “Said you were in the Militia building and I was to give this to you when you came out.”
“She described me?”
“She said you were a sergeant in the 23rd. I could tell it was you from the three bars on your badge.”
Chip dug a coin out of her purse and flipped it over. The young girl caught it deftly and scampered away. Chip opened the folded sheet and read:
Sergeant Coppelli:
I know what you are after and have information that I think will help you. I can meet you at sunset tonight at the old mill, three kilometers out of town on the Clemswood Road. Private Nagata will know where it is.
There was no signature at the bottom. Chip did not expect one. She looked down the street in the direction the girl had gone, but there was no point going after her. Even if she found the child again, Chip was sure that there was nothing more to be gained from her. Whoever had written the note wanted to keep her identity hidden; else why bother with the go-between and the obscure rendezvous? That the unknown woman felt the need to go to such lengths was nearly as much of a mystery as the message itself.
Who in Roadsend, apart from Sanchez, knew what she was trying to do? And the lieutenant was not around. Chip had been on her way back from a wasted visit to the Militia station when the urchin had hailed her. Sanchez was out of town and would not be available until the next morning. Yet not only had the writer of the note claimed to know their objective, but she also knew that both Chip and Katryn were in Roadsend—knowledge all the more surprising as they had reached the town less then two hours ago, and Chip’s current excursion was the first time either had set foot outside the barracks.
The back of Chip’s neck tingled as her thoughts moved on. The writer had also known that she was in the Militia station, which she could only have found out by following her.
Chip scoured the street. The person might well be watching her now. In fact, she almost certainly was. How else could she be sure that the urchin had carried out her errand? There was no way to single the writer out from the crowds. It was a deeply unsettling idea. Chip turned around sharply and marched back to the barracks.
*
Chip and Katryn arrived at the old mill an hour early and hid in woods overlooking the river, hoping to see the unknown note-writer arrive. However, she was either there before them or not coming. As the sun dropped below the horizon, it was time for Chip and Katryn to make their minds up about whether to go ahead with the rendezvous.
“I’m not happy about this.” It was the third time Katryn had expressed that view.
“Neither am I.” Chip’s eyes bored into the deserted building as though she was hoping to see through the ancient timber walls. The conversation had been traveling in the same circle ever since she had gotten back to the barracks. The setup was too convoluted to be a joke. The best guess was that the woman was a survivor of the Butcher’s gang—the trouble with this conclusion being that it was hard to see why she would want to help catch Ellis’ murderer or inform against Takeda’s sister. “I wish I knew where she got her information about us, and I wish I knew why she has to play these games. However, most of all, I want to know what she has to tell us, and the only way we’ll find out is by talking to her.”
“As long as it isn’t a trap.”
Chip frowned. She shared Katryn’s doubts. The offer of information was too good to turn down. It was also too good to be trusted. Chip drew her sword and pushed her cloak back from her shoulders to leave her arms free. “One way or another, it’s going to give us answers. We have to go in, but very carefully, and we watch each other’s back.”
Katryn nodded and pulled an arrow from her quiver. The two slipped out from the trees. The overgrown path took them down toward the river. The only sounds as they approached were the gushing of water along the millrace and the piercing cries of birds returning to their roosts.
A short flight of steps led up to the doorway. At the top, they stopped. The door itself had fallen in—or been kicked down.
While Katryn kept her attention on the surrounding hillside, Chip slipped around the threshold, straining her eyes against the gloom inside. The structure appeared to be generally sound. The ceiling was still intact, as were the floorboards. The millstones were gone, leaving only the huge wooden gears. The stairs to the upper level looked a tad unsafe, but they had probably been in much the same condition when the mill was in use. Chip guessed that it had been abandoned for under a dozen years. Three inner doorways led to adjoining rooms. There was no sign of the woman they had come to meet.
Chip was just starting to think that the note had been a practical joke (although
Sanchez did not seem the type, and it was difficult to see who else might have played it) when she saw a faint light coming from one of the back rooms. “I think our friend is here,” she whispered to Katryn.
Chip moved away from the door, still keeping her back to the wall. Katryn followed, with an arrow nocked on her bowstring. As Chip’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, the glow from the inner room seemed a little brighter, yet it was obvious that the candle or lantern was being shielded in some way.
They edged around the walls. Finally, Chip stepped through the inner doorway. Again, she found herself in an empty room, but now she could see that the light was emanating from an open trap door in the floor.
Katryn stood guard while Chip kneeled by the hatch and peered in. The opening was a good meter square, large enough for flour sacks carried across shoulders to pass through easily. Stairs led down to a cellar two-thirds underground. A window was high on one wall, squeezed in just below the ceiling. The glass was gone, but thick iron bars remained, with vines and branches poking between them. Rotting straw and empty sacks littered part of the floor. The candle was in a holder on the wall. The only furniture was a battered table pushed against the far wall and a stool. Sitting on the stool was a hunched figure, bundled in layers of rags like the street urchin. The woman showed no sign of moving. Possibly, she was old and hard of hearing; possibly, she was asleep. Chip began to descend the staircase, placing each foot to land as silently as she could manage.
At the bottom of the stairs, Chip paused and glanced up. Katryn was standing to one side of the opening, her eyes trained on the outer room. Chip returned her attention to the woman at the bench.
“Hey!” Katryn’s sudden cry broke the silence.
Chip’s head shot up. Katryn was lifting her bow, but before it was half drawn, Chip heard the familiar twang of a bowstring. Katryn flung herself sideways, landing sprawled across the trap-door opening.
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