Robinson stared at him. ‘How did you discover this?’
‘We intercepted a letter,’ said MacLea. He did not think it necessary to burden the attorney general with further details. ‘We don’t know the spy’s name, but he is an official in the post office in Kingston.’
‘The post office! That means he is one of Elijah Dunne’s employees.’
‘Yes,’ said MacLea.
‘Have you informed Dunne?’
‘No, sir. And I don’t think that would be a very good idea, not until the spy has been apprehended. Dunne might say or do something that would give this man warning, and we must avoid that at all costs.’
Robinson considered this. ‘Do you think Dunne himself is a suspect?’
‘There is no evidence against him,’ said MacLea. ‘But I have instructed my men to set a watch on him.’
‘Be careful,’ said Robinson slowly. ‘We are on dangerous ground now, Captain.’
‘Sir?’
‘Dunne is not a member of the Assembly and holds no official position, but his company controls most of the freight and postal business in Upper Canada, including the transport of supplies and dispatches for the army. After General Sheaffe, he is the most powerful man in Upper Canada.’
‘I promise not to tread on his toes,’ MacLea said. ‘My men will be discreet. But sir, you must be resolute in this matter. If we do discover evidence that implicates Dunne in spying, even if only tangentially, then action must be taken.’
Robinson hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. ‘Yes, of course. But there is another thing you should know.’
‘What is it?’
‘It is well known that Colonel Lawrence bears a grudge against you. Over the course of the past month or so, Dunne has gone out of his way to seek out and befriend the colonel. If you offend Dunne, you are likely to once again draw the wrath of Colonel Lawrence down on your head.’
MacLea looked exasperated. ‘I can deal with Colonel Lawrence,’ he said. ‘Why is Dunne toadying to him?’
‘I suspect he thinks that if the present political turmoil continues and the Assembly forces Sir George Prévost to recall General Sheaffe, Colonel Lawrence may well be appointed his successor. He is the senior ranking officer; he is a full colonel, whereas Vincent and Bisshopp are only lieutenant colonels.’
‘General Lawrence,’ said MacLea sourly. ‘God help us all.’ In fact, the whole thing was frighteningly possible. The only thing greater than Lawrence’s pomposity is his ambition, as he himself had once said. ‘But surely even Prévost would not be so foolish as to promote him?’
‘Lawrence also has political connections, remember.’
‘I know, I know… There is another thing, sir, if I may. One of my watchers reported that Caleb Street met someone at the Half-Way Tavern, back near the end of November. The landlord didn’t recognise the other man, implying he might have been a stranger. I reckon he was some business contact of Street’s, arranging a deal they didn’t want the rest of the world to know about, but I want to follow it up all the same.’
‘Certainly. Do you have a description of the other man?’
‘Tall, dark hair, well dressed; “well set up” was the phrase used. Also, he had a small scar on his forehead, above one eyebrow.’
For a long moment Robinson stared at him, saying nothing, his eyes wide with shock. A tremor of unease ran down MacLea’s spine. ‘What is it? Do you know this man?’
Robinson found his voice. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Or rather, I did. The man you have just described was my confidential agent, Magnus Fraser.’
* * *
‘What will you do?’ Robinson asked.
‘I shall speak to Street,’ said MacLea. If Street had met Fraser in late November, that must have been shortly before Fraser was killed. There might be a connection, or there might not, but he had to find out. ‘May I leave the issue of the spy in Kingston to you, Mr Robinson? I need to concentrate on Street.’
‘Of course,’ said Robinson. ‘I shall write to Vincent myself, and send the letter by special courier rather than risk the postal service. It will take four or five days for the letter to reach Kingston, but I will let you know as soon as I can. When will you speak to Street?’
‘As soon as possible.’
Robinson paused for a moment. ‘Be careful, Captain MacLea. I shall never forget what happened to poor Fraser. His death is on my conscience.’
‘Fraser was a casualty of war,’ MacLea said quietly.
‘But he died in my service. He was my agent, and I feel responsible for his death. Do you not feel the same when a man of your company is killed in action?’
MacLea nodded. ‘I do. And like you, I never forget them. Don’t worry, Mr Robinson. You won’t have my death on your conscience, I promise you.’
* * *
Back at the hotel, Alec Murray was waiting for him. ‘Who is watching Street?’ MacLea asked.
‘Carson is there this morning. Hill is due to take over at midday. Why, what is going on?’
‘The mysterious man at the Half-Way Tavern was Magnus Fraser. We need to know why he was meeting Street.’
Murray nodded, reaching for his cloak. Nothing ever seemed to faze him; he handled everything life threw at him, be it a pretty woman, an American spy or the advance of a regiment of light infantry, with equal calm. ‘Let’s go find him,’ he said.
More snow had fallen overnight, and Carson had found a shovel and was clearing the road in front of Street’s house. There were so many other men engaged in the same task that he was unlikely to attract attention.
Carson himself was a solidly built man with a beard rimed with frost. In peacetime he had been a wheelwright in Durham County, east of York. ‘All quiet, sir,’ he said in response to MacLea’s question. ‘Mr Street hasn’t stirred out of doors this morning, and no one has come calling.’
MacLea nodded. ‘All right, Alec. Let’s see what he has to say for himself.’
A servant answered MacLea’s knock and ushered them inside, showing them into the same ornately furnished room as before. ‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ said Caleb Street, rising to his feet and smiling. The smile itself was wide, MacLea thought, but his eyes were cautious.
‘Such a pleasure to see you again,’ Street said. ‘Are you here to first-foot me for the new year? If so, you are a little early.’
MacLea smiled briefly. ‘No, sir. I am afraid we are here on business.’
‘Ah, business.’ Street nodded. ‘You have thought again about my offer concerning General Sheaffe. Of course, Captain MacLea, I shall be glad to make representations and help see your reputation and position restored. The general is still in Niagara, of course, but when he recovers from his illness, he intends to return to York. When he does, you may be assured I shall speak for you.’
‘And what would you want in exchange?’ MacLea asked.
Street contrived to look startled. ‘Exchange? Sir, there is no question of any debt. Simply one gentleman doing a favour for another. You owe me nothing.’
Murray coughed behind his hand. ‘You are very kind,’ said MacLea drily. ‘But as it happens, Mr Street, we are here on a different matter.’ He paused for a moment, watching Street’s face, then said, ‘How well did you know Magnus Fraser?’
Street stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You met him at the Half-Way Tavern in late November,’ MacLea said. ‘Was he an old friend? A business acquaintance, perhaps?’
‘Yes,’ said Street. Already he was growing pale, the colour draining from his face. ‘A business acquaintance. That’s it exactly.’ He could not resist asking a question of his own. ‘How did you know about the meeting?’
‘The landlord remembered you,’ said Murray. ‘He also gave a description of Fraser. Can you tell us what passed between you at this meeting?’
‘No,’ said Street. His voice was sharp, but MacLea heard the unsteadiness. ‘It was a private matter. None of your business.’
‘
Oh come, Mr Street,’ said MacLea, his voice hardening. ‘Magnus Fraser was a confidential agent in government service. He was hunting the American spy known as Polaris. He met someone, a man who promised to tell him the true name of Polaris. He was on his way to a second meeting with this man when he was killed. You met with Fraser not long before he died. Everything to do with this meeting is my business, Mr Street. Tell us why you met Fraser, and what you discussed with him.’
Street was shivering. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t.’
‘You must,’ said MacLea.
‘No. I mean, I can’t go on. Oh dear God. Oh dear God, dear God.’ Street’s voice had thickened, as if his tongue had suddenly become too big for his mouth. He sat down suddenly, slumping into a chair. ‘Dear God,’ he said again.
MacLea stood over him, looking down. Murray watched them both. ‘Tell me,’ the captain said.
‘I knew who Fraser was. I had seen him in Montreal back in September, talking with Sir George Prévost, and I discovered that he was an agent. When he came to York, I knew he must be looking for Polaris. I waited, watching him until I could be sure it was safe, and then I arranged to meet him at the Half-Way.’
‘You know who Polaris is,’ MacLea said.
‘Yes,’ said Street. ‘I do.’
‘You told Fraser you would betray Polaris,’ said MacLea. ‘You said you would meet him at Fanning’s house and hand over the name.’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Street was deathly white now. ‘I never said anything about Fanning’s house.’
‘Fraser had received a message from you. It said you would meet him at the house, where he was to pay you one hundred dollars in gold in exchange for Polaris’s name.’
Street stared at him. ‘I sent no such message!’
‘Then who did?’ Murray asked. He shook his head. ‘Of course. It was Polaris himself. He worked out that someone was about to betray him to Fraser. Fortunately for you, Mr Street, he didn’t yet know who it was.’
Street was on the point of collapse now. ‘You have no idea how terrified I have been. When I heard of Fraser’s murder, I assumed he had told Polaris who the traitor was. I thought my last hour had come. When no assassin showed up on my own doorstep, I realised my secret was safe, but only for the moment.’
‘Polaris would not rest until he found his traitor,’ said MacLea.
‘Exactly. I thought of running, but my flight would have been a sure signal of my guilt, and Polaris’s agents would have followed me. So I had to stay here and keep playing the part, carry on spying for him, knowing that one day he would discover my secret and kill me. I am a walking corpse, Captain MacLea, a knife blade away from death.’
There was a long pause. ‘Why?’ MacLea asked. ‘Why choose to work for him in the first place?’
‘Do you really want a list of reasons? The curtailing of our liberties? The imposition of taxes, requisitioning of food, martial law, all to support a war that no one asked for and no one wants? The gathering of power into the hands of a few wealthy families, while the rest of us are shut out?’
‘You’re right,’ said MacLea, not troubling to keep the distaste from voice. ‘You can spare us the details. So why betray him now?’
‘Because the scales have fallen from my eyes,’ Street said. He had recovered a little. ‘I thought the Americans were coming to liberate us. That was what Polaris told us, and I believed him. Then I heard what happened when the US Army took Queenston, the looting and pillaging, and how their artillery bombarded Niagara, putting the lives of women and children in danger. I realised that we had been duped.’ He shook his head. ‘The Americans are no better than the British. All they want is to conquer and occupy us. I joined Polaris because I believed he offered us freedom. Not any more. Now I just want out.’
‘Will you tell us who Polaris is?’ MacLea asked.
Street shook his head. ‘I want something from you first.’
‘You want money? The hundred dollars Fraser was bringing you?’
‘For God’s sake, Captain, look around you. I am a rich man. Why would I need a hundred dollars? No, I want a safe conduct and an escort to protect me from Polaris and Colonel Beauregard, until I can get out of Canada.’
‘Where do you want to go?’ asked Murray.
‘Halifax. From there I can find a ship to take me south; to Cuba, perhaps, or one of the Spanish provinces in South America. I can make a new start there. A man of my talents should be able to get back on his feet quickly.’
MacLea nodded. ‘All right. I’ll go and see Robinson and make the arrangements today. When will you give us the information?’
‘When I have the safe conduct in my hand,’ said Street.
‘When and where shall we meet?’
‘This evening, at Jordan’s Hotel. Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and all of York society will be there for the ball. One of my servants will book a room in the name of Bennett. At a quarter to twelve, I will leave the ball and go to the room. At the stroke of midnight, as everyone is bringing in the new year, come and find me. Bring the safe conduct and written guarantee of the escort. Then I will give you Polaris’s name, and you can arrest him at once.’
‘As simple as that?’
‘As simple as that,’ Street repeated, and for the first time, he smiled. ‘He too will be at the ball. Surround the hotel so he cannot escape, and he will be a fly caught in a spiderweb. You can take him whenever you wish.’
* * *
‘Do you believe him?’ Robinson asked.
They were in the attorney general’s office. ‘There’s only one way to know for certain,’ said MacLea. ‘Give him what he wants, and see what he says.’
Robinson gazed out of the window for a moment. ‘Your earlier informant said that Polaris is a member of the Assembly. As is Street. Might he himself be Polaris?’
‘The thought crossed my mind,’ said MacLea. ‘But if he is, why go through this charade? And I don’t think Polaris would have taken the risk of meeting Fraser in broad daylight. I think Street is genuine.’
‘If so, it means that not just one Assemblyman but two have been betraying us,’ said Robinson. He looked faintly sick at the thought. ‘And if there are two, how many more? How far does the rot spread?’
‘If we take Polaris, we can find out,’ MacLea said.
Robinson turned back to look at him. ‘Very well. We shall do as you suggest. I will arrange the safe conduct and see it delivered to you, and ask Major Clerk at the fort to provide an escort. A closed sledge and a file of Niagara Dragoons will suffice, I think. But I won’t be able to arrange that by the end of the day. We have no cavalry here in York; the dragoons will have to come up from Ancaster.’
‘Street said a written guarantee would suffice. He trusts me, apparently. We also need troops to surround the hotel so Polaris cannot escape. Thank God Colonel Lawrence is still away and won’t be able to interfere. Can you ask Major Clerk to send a detachment?’
The attorney general nodded. ‘It shall be done.’
‘And you will be at the ball yourself? Good. As soon as Street gives me the name, I will come and tell you, and you can make the arrest.’
‘And what about Street?’ Robinson asked. ‘We need to keep him somewhere secure until the escort arrives. Once Polaris is in custody, his other agents might work out who betrayed him, and come looking for revenge.’
MacLea looked at him. ‘You are very concerned about the welfare of a spy and a traitor, sir.’
‘Say rather that I would like the chance to interrogate him further about his relations with Polaris and other members of the gang,’ said Robinson. ‘Street could be useful to us. I should like to take him into protective custody. A cell in the gaol, perhaps, or at the fort.’
MacLea shook his head. ‘Those are the first places Polaris’s confederates will look.’
‘A hotel, then.’
‘And those are the second places they will look. A hotel is too visible. We need to keep him out of sight.’
‘Then it will have to be a private house,’ said Robinson. ‘Is there anyone you trust?’
MacLea thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps it would be best if he came here, sir. If you could bear to host him for a time. Will your servants be discreet?’
Robinson looked startled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There is no one in the household that I do not trust, and I have plenty of room. I can arrange to house him here quite easily.’
‘And you can use the time to interrogate him further,’ said MacLea.
‘Yes, yes. Capital idea. Congratulations, Captain MacLea. It would appear that you have found Polaris.’
‘Not yet,’ said MacLea. ‘But, God willing, by the time 1813 dawns, we will have him in custody.’
* * *
The pieces were in place and the game was in motion. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Late in the afternoon, his nerves twanging like the strings of a harp, MacLea walked out past the fort to meet Abel Thomas by the lakeshore. The sun had set and the sky glowed with light, citrus yellow in the west, shades of blue and pink to the east. Out on the ice the fires of the fishermen glowed in the gathering gloom.
‘Anything to report?’ MacLea asked.
‘Miller and Croghan have been following Mr Dunne like you said, sir. He went straight to his office this morning and worked there all day. The only person who came to the office apart from the clerks was his mother.’
MacLea blinked. ‘His what?’
‘His mother, sir.’
No one had ever mentioned that Dunne had a mother. ‘How do you know that’s who she is?’
‘Miller reported to me, sir, saying an elderly lady had called. I sent Moses to ask around. She’s a bit of a recluse, folks say, never goes to balls or dinners. She runs the household for Mr Dunne, and apart from that she mostly stays at home.’
‘I’ll be damned,’ said MacLea. Momentarily distracted from thinking about Street, he pondered what, if anything, this news might mean. ‘Where did Mrs Dunne go after she came to the office?’
The Hunt for the North Star Page 19