Lords of Misrule (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 4)

by Stella Riley

  ‘I’m used to it.’

  ‘I know you are. But I’m not.’

  * * *

  Afterwards, he couldn’t help wondering how deep her concern went and whether it stemmed from guilt for involving him in something potentially dangerous or from something more personal. He was still wondering it when he, Tobias and Nicholas prepared to depart for the Steelyard.

  Eden wore the ancient green coat, a pair of boots he’d intended to throw away but forgotten about and carried the plain, serviceable blade he kept for occasional bouts of practice. Nicholas and Tobias were much better dressed, though not ostentatiously so. Nicholas was unarmed but Tobias slid a slender, evil-looking knife up his sleeve.

  ‘Genoese back-streets,’ he said by way of response to his brother’s enquiring gaze.

  ‘Ever used it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Jesus,’ muttered Eden.

  It was a little after six o’clock and fully dark. Trade at the Three Cranes was already fairly brisk and promised to get busier as the evening wore on. Nicholas and Tobias arrived first and settled down in a corner with a bottle of wine and a dice-box. Eden slouched in some ten minutes later, leaned against the counter and let the bar-keep watch him count out a few precious coins to pay for a small pot of ale.

  He drank it slowly, the very picture of a man who couldn’t afford another. He also glanced frequently about the tap-room, looking nervous. Eventually, just when he was beginning to think he’d have to initiate the conversation himself, the inn-keeper paused beside him and said, ‘Looking for someone?’

  Eden grunted an assent, hesitated and then mumbled, ‘I heard there’s a man hereabouts who … buys things.’

  ‘There’s a few of ’em, soldier.’ The man gave him an appraising look, then grinned and shook his head. ‘No offence – but I don’t reckon you’ve got much worth selling.’

  Eden slid his hand from his pocket. His little finger sported a diamond ring.

  The landlord’s eyes widened a bit and Eden shoved the hand back in his pocket. He said, ‘I’ve got more. But I …’ He stopped as if afraid of saying too much. ‘I’ve been told this fellow Quinn doesn’t ask questions.’

  ‘Oh. Like that, is it?’

  Eden nodded and took another sip of ale.

  ‘You wouldn’t know where I can find him, would you? Only … well, I can’t hang on to the stuff much longer.’

  ‘Burning a hole in your pocket?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Caution warred with greed in the fellow’s face. Finally, he said, ‘If I was to point you in the right direction, let’s say … what would be in it for me?’

  The possibility that he might achieve his objective so quickly had Eden reminding himself not to take anything for granted. He’d expected to have to do this twice, if not three times before it bore fruit.

  Knowing he shouldn’t appear too eager, he hesitated again and then said reluctantly, ‘The ring I showed you … if Quinn buys the rest.’

  A crafty gleam lit the landlord’s eye. He said, ‘Quinn don’t like uninvited guests but there’s a fellow in the back room who could introduce you. Give me the ring and I’ll take you to him.’

  Eden shook his head.

  ‘Take me to him first. Then, if he can do what you say, the ring’s yours.’

  ‘Cautious one, ain’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I learned it the hard way. But my word’s worth something.’

  There was a long uncomfortable pause and then the landlord gave a gruff laugh.

  ‘Come on, then. But don’t blame me if Quinn robs you blind and slits your throat for good measure.’

  Eden followed the landlord to a door on the far side of the room. As he passed their table, he caught his brother’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  In the back room, the four men playing cards instantly impaled Eden on four very hard stares. One of them, a pock-marked fellow whose nose looked as if it had been broken more than once, slapped his hand face-down on the table and stood up, scowling.

  ‘Ben? Who the sodding hell is this?’

  ‘He’s looking for Quinn. Lone wolf and a first-timer, I reckon. Says he’s got some fancy gew-gaws to sell.’ He nudged Eden. ‘Show ’em.’

  Slowly, Eden withdrew his hand from his pocket and let the diamond catch the light.

  The man on his feet held out his hand. ‘Give.’

  Eden closed his fist and shook his head. ‘No.’

  Pock-face grinned and suddenly there was a knife in his hand.

  ‘Rather I took your finger with it, would you?’

  Seeing no alternative, Eden pulled the ring free and tossed it towards Pock-face, hoping he’d drop the knife. He didn’t. He caught the ring neatly in his left hand and took a good long look at it. Then, tossing it back so suddenly that Eden nearly failed to catch it, he said, ‘Looks real enough – but I ain’t no expert. Got any more like it?’

  ‘Some. I heard Quinn would be interested.’

  ‘Might be. Where d’you lift it? And how long since?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Don’t know much about Quinn, do you?’

  ‘No. I just --’ Eden stopped and then said rapidly, ‘All right. I took it from a – a lady just two days ago. She won’t have missed it yet. But when she does, she – ’

  ‘When she does, she’ll know who took it. And you want enough ready to disappear before she comes looking. That it?’

  ‘Yes. Look – I don’t want any trouble. I never stole anything before and wouldn’t have this time if I hadn’t been desperate. Now I just want to get rid of the stuff and be on my way. So if you think Quinn might be interested, for God’s sake just take me to him.’

  Pock-face stared at him for a long moment, toying gently with the knife. Then, the blade vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared, he turned to the seated man on his right and said, ‘Reckon he’s on the level?’

  ‘Looks to be,’ came the laconic reply. Then, derisively, ‘Sodding rabbit.’

  Pock-face laughed.

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s see what the boss makes of him.’

  The other three men promptly stood up.

  Wonderful, thought Eden. They’re all bloody coming.

  The landlord grabbed his arm. ‘We had a deal. The ring.’

  With a resigned shrug, Eden gave it to him.

  A door from the room led into a yard, linked to other yards and finally to an alley. Surrounded by his silent escort, Eden found himself being led down towards the river in the general direction of the bridge.

  Nick and Toby … I hope to God one of you has this covered. I don’t fancy taking on all four of these bruisers if they decide to bounce me off the wall and take what’s in my pockets for themselves.

  They crossed Old Swan Lane into the Steelyard, skirted All Hallows the Less and turned down to the dock-side. Then, at a large warehouse with no lights showing, they knocked, waited and knocked again. A small grille opened briefly and then was slammed shut. From inside came sounds of bolts being withdrawn. Nerves tingled in Eden’s hands and he forced himself to breathe evenly, glad that he’d got this far in one piece.

  Inside was a great barn of a place that appeared to have been adapted to suit whatever business was conducted there. A narrow wooden staircase led to a galleried upper floor supported by massive timbers. Five doors up there, Eden noted. The section below it had been closed off, presumably to provide a private office. And around where he stood, a good many crates and barrels suggested that a delivery of some sort had just arrived and was being sorted for onward travel. Three men worked on this and a fourth sat to one side, smoking a pipe.

  How many others that I can’t see?

  Pock-face sauntered over to the smoker and nodded. ‘Bones.’

  ‘Skinner.’

  ‘Boss in tonight?’

  ‘Aye. Rooster’s with him.’

  ‘Ah.’ Skinner alias Pock-face grinned at his three companions. ‘Won’t need you, then.
I’ll see you back at the Cranes in a bit.’

  With a few rumblings of discontent about wasted time, the trio turned and left.

  The pipe-stem pointed at Eden. ‘What you got here, Skinner?’

  ‘Rabbit selling some shiny stuff the boss might like.’

  ‘Seen it?’

  ‘Some.’ He grinned and jerked his head towards Eden. ‘Didn’t want to scare him off. Nerves on the snap all the way here in case we jumped him. Reckon nobody told him Quinn’s crew knows better than cross him. Ever.’

  Grateful though he was that Quinn’s apparent vice-like discipline had spared him a mauling in an alley, Eden recognised that, on other levels, it was likely to present a problem. He was also getting tired of being treated like a deaf-mute, so he said, ‘Can I see Mr Quinn?’

  ‘Impatient, ain’t he?’ Bones heaved himself to his feet and turning to a door behind him, rapped on the panels. Then, sticking his head round it, he said, ‘Skinner’s here. Got something for you.’

  A voice from within said something Eden couldn’t hear but which made Bones laugh. Then he pushed the door wide and said, ‘Go on, then. But your sword stays here with me.’

  Having expected as much, Eden pulled off his sash and handed the weapon over. Then, obeying a shove from Skinner, he entered the lair of the man who he was beginning to suspect ruled half of the City’s criminal underbelly.

  There were three people in the room. A massive fellow with a shock of ginger hair, leaning against the wall, picking his teeth; a very pretty blonde reclining on a sofa in a state of semi-undress; and a man perched on the edge of a carved oak desk.

  Eden didn’t know what he’d expected Quinn to be like … but it certainly wasn’t this.

  Of roughly his own age, dark-haired and slender, Quinn wouldn’t have appeared out of place on the benches at Westminster. Perfectly groomed and plainly dressed, he looked like a successful lawyer. He did not look like someone who made money from every vice known to man and murdered to order; or not, that was, until you caught that dark, empty gaze. Then, thought Eden feeling oddly chilled, you became aware of a reptilian quality that told you to be ready to move fast.

  The door closed behind him. Skinner leaned against it and, presumably with the intention of making Eden nervous, set about cleaning his fingernails with the point of his knife.

  Quinn looked at him in silence for a moment, then said, ‘And you are?’

  The voice was flat, cold and untainted by any discernible accent.

  ‘Is my name really necessary?’

  ‘No. I asked who you are.’

  ‘I am – I was – a soldier.’

  ‘Your regiment was reduced?’

  ‘No.’ Eden stared at the floor. ‘I was cashiered.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For striking a superior officer.’

  Silence; unnecessarily lingering and deliberately enervating; the kind of silence Eden had often used himself because it made people want to break it – or at the very least, fidget. With an inward sigh, he obligingly fiddled with the brim of his hat.

  Still Quinn took his time. Then, finally, ‘You have a problem with authority?’

  ‘Not when it knows what it’s doing.’

  ‘And you are the best arbiter of that, are you?’

  Eden shrugged and said nothing.

  ‘I,’ remarked Quinn coming unhurriedly to his feet, ‘am not an admirer of independent thought. However. Why are you here?’

  ‘I’ve something to sell that I can’t sell elsewhere.’

  ‘Ah. Of course.’ His tone was one of mingled boredom and contempt. ‘Show me.’

  Finally. I thought he was going to ask to count my teeth.

  Without speaking, Eden pulled the jumble of jewellery from his pocket and dropped it into Quinn’s outstretched palm. Then he waited for what seemed like an age while the fellow laid it out on the desk, piece by piece.

  ‘Not the best workmanship,’ said Quinn at length. ‘Rather crude, in fact. But pretty enough.’ And beckoning to the blonde, ‘Come and see, Angel. Is there anything you like?’

  Angel slid from the couch and undulated across the room.

  ‘Yes.’ She touched each item with considering fingers and clasped the sapphire bracelet on her wrist. ‘All of it. But I’ll settle for this.’

  He tapped her cheek and was just about to speak when a series of thuds and bangs sounded from one of the rooms above. Angel scowled and sighed. ‘God damn. The bloody trulls are at it again. Don’t they never stay quiet? I’ve been up and down them stairs more times than I can count.’

  ‘Rooster.’ Quinn spoke to the big, silent red-headed man. ‘Go and shut them up. Do not use your fists. I need them unmarked. Just make further disturbance impossible. Skinner will remain here with me.’

  When the door closed again, Quinn resumed his examination of the jewellery. He said, ‘I will give you forty pounds for it.’

  Tobias had said market value was roughly a hundred and fifty.

  ‘It’s worth more than that,’ protested Eden.

  ‘Not to me. And not to you – unless you can take it to a legitimate jeweller. Can you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No. If you could do that, you wouldn’t be here, would you?’ An almost imperceptible but definitely unpleasant smile curled the corners of Quinn’s mouth but didn’t get as far as those curiously vacant eyes. ‘Forty. Take it or leave it.’

  Eden hesitated as long as he dared. Then, managing an expression of hopelessness, he said, ‘What choice do I have? I’ll take it.’

  ‘That is wise.’ Quinn walked round his desk, opened a drawer and counted out coins. He dropped them in a small, cloth bag and tossed it to Eden. Then he said unexpectedly, ‘The next time you’re desperate, come to me. It’s possible I could find a use for a man like you.’

  Eden felt an insane desire to laugh. He said, ‘You’d give me work?’

  ‘Of a sort. Not, perhaps, the kind you’re used to … though I imagine you’ve killed your fair share over the years. And you’ve already said goodbye to honour, haven’t you?’ He paused. ‘Forty pounds won’t last forever. Give some thought to your future. But if you decide to come back here, know two things. I demand implicit loyalty and absolute obedience – and reward both generously. But men who adapt their orders because they feel they know better than I … men who disappoint me … don’t live to do it a second time. I trust I make myself clear?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Good. Then we are done. You may go.’

  * * *

  As previously agreed, Tobias and Nicholas shadowed Eden from a safe distance all the way back to Cheapside in case Quinn decided to have him followed. Eden only knew they were there when he rounded a corner, paused and then looked back in time to see Tobias’s distinctive figure emerging at the end of Watling Street.

  Once back by the fire, Eden shed the despised green coat and went in search of brandy. If he was cold just from the walk home, the others – after their long vigil by the river – must be downright freezing. They came in bringing gusts of bitter air with them.

  ‘Please tell me,’ said Nicholas, through chattering teeth, ‘that we don’t have to do that again.’

  ‘You don’t.’ Eden handed him a glass and passed the other to his brother. ‘For which I’m as relieved as you are.’

  Tobias downed a large gulp of brandy, then threw off his coat.

  ‘You found Quinn?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And he took the bait?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eden tossed him the purse. ‘Forty pounds.’

  ‘Forty? He must have taken you for a complete flat.’

  ‘Very likely. But I got to leave with all my body parts intact so I’m not complaining. In case you hadn’t realised, these aren’t people you want to barter with.’

  ‘Has he got the women?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘I think so. He’s certainly got some females locked up upstairs.’

  ‘Must be them,’ yawned Tobias.
‘What’s he like, this Quinn?’

  ‘Not your everyday throat-cutting villain.’ Eden paused and allowed the amusement he’d previously suppressed to surface. ‘He offered me a job.’

  Tobias choked on his brandy. ‘As what?’

  ‘I rather think … as a professional assassin.’

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  SIX

  On the following evening, six men sat around the table in Cheapside. In addition to Tobias and Nicholas, Eden had also summoned Colonel Brandon, Major Moulton and Sir Aubrey Durand. For the benefit of these three, he explained the situation thus far and then said flatly, ‘There is no need for Mistress Neville to know any of this. Time enough to tell her when we’ve got her women back.’

  ‘If we get them back,’ muttered Aubrey.

  ‘Quite,’ agreed Eden coolly. ‘Though a more positive attitude would be helpful.’

  Aubrey flushed and subsided.

  Gabriel said, ‘You’re proposing the six of us break into Quinn’s premises?’

  ‘Unless anyone’s got a better idea – yes.’

  ‘Assuming you’re correct about him having abducted these women, the man is probably also responsible for half the crime in the City. Why not inform the appropriate authorities and let them send a troop of Militia in?’

  ‘I thought of that,’ replied Eden. ‘At least, I considered going to Lambert and asking for official help. But I’ve no proof … and there’s always the chance that I’m wrong and the women are being held elsewhere.’

  ‘That doesn’t alter the fact that Quinn’s a criminal,’ remarked Ned Moulton. ‘Lambert would probably consider it a risk worth taking.’

  ‘Possibly. But I can’t risk losing Quinn – which might very well happen if Militia go storming in there.’

  ‘Under your command?’ murmured Gabriel.

  ‘All right – point taken,’ agreed Eden with a faint smile. ‘But Quinn is the key to unlocking this whole mess. I doubt he confides in his underlings. And if that’s so, he’s the only one who knows who’s paying him and also the only one who can tell that man that he’s lost the bargaining tool he was paid to obtain.’

  ‘That,’ observed Nicholas thoughtfully, ‘alters the case somewhat. If Quinn slips the net, you lose more than the opportunity to question him. Once his employer finds out that the women are gone, he’ll disappear back into the woodwork and we’ll have no way of tracing him until he tries something else.’