The Hunt for the North Star

by The Hunt for the North Star (retail) (epub)

  ‘Oh, you will fight,’ said Calder. ‘Think about that Creole lady back in York. You want to live, Captain, don’t you? For her sake.’ He paused. ‘And even more importantly, you want her to live too.’

  MacLea stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that our agents are watching her. If you do not do as we ask, then not only will you be shot, but she will die also.’

  MacLea felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly. He drew a breath. ‘If anything happens to Josephine,’ he said, ‘I will rip your heart out with my bare hands.’

  Calder smiled. ‘Brave words,’ he said. ‘You won’t have the chance, of course, because you will already be dead yourself. Be reasonable, Captain MacLea. We are offering you a chance to save your own life and that of the woman you love.’

  MacLea watched them. Calder was still smiling; Forsyth was silent and watchful. Pike sat with his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes boring into MacLea. ‘Why?’ asked the captain. ‘Your agents tried several times to kill me. Why not do it now? Why insist on this charade?’

  ‘True, we did try,’ said Calder. ‘Once you had helped us eliminate Wilson and track down the traitor Street, we no longer needed you. But you proved rather harder to kill than expected. So instead we decided to turn you. You have doubtless worked out that the whole point of the Ogdensburgh affair was to set a trap for you. Major Forsyth already had orders to abandon the town and return to Sackett’s Harbor. We delayed just long enough to make sure of taking you.’

  ‘Again, why?’

  ‘You are an important man, Captain. The Canadian militia in particular look up to you. They sing songs about you. When they learn that you have deserted, the fight will go out of them. More of them will defect to us, if only so they can be on the winning side. The defences of Canada will crumble.’

  MacLea stared at him. ‘Have you been drinking again, Calder? First of all, no one in Canada will believe I have turned traitor, especially not once I escape from this place and return to tell my tale. And second, even if they did believe, no Canadian is going to give up that easily.’

  Calder shook his head. ‘You mentioned escape,’ he said. ‘I really don’t advise it, Captain. Not at all.’

  ‘Because you will hunt me down and kill me, I suppose.’

  ‘That too, yes. We have some excellent hunting dogs here at the post that would find you and tear your throat out before you had gone five miles. But even if by chance you do return home, you won’t find a very warm welcome. Quite the contrary, in fact.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Calder, will you stop talking in riddles? What do you mean?’

  ‘Rumours are already starting to spread about you, MacLea. About why you surrendered so tamely at Ogdensburgh. About how you let Dunne slip through your fingers at York and allowed him to escape. About how you were sent to arrest George Wilson, but killed him instead. How you killed Caleb Street before he could reveal Polaris’s name to the authorities. About how all the time you were pretending to hunt for Polaris, you were in fact his close accomplice. Your gallantry in battle, all your brave exploits – just a sham. In reality, you have been working for the Americans since the beginning of the war.’

  ‘No one will believe a word of it,’ said MacLea.

  ‘Oh, they will,’ Calder assured him. ‘They won’t want to, not at first, but the evidence that is about to emerge will be unimpeachable. People will believe the truth we present to them. And you will be known to history, Captain MacLea, as the man who sold Canada down the river. Your own friends and family will disown you, and no decent person will be able to bring themselves to even utter your name.’

  ‘If you return, you will face trial and execution,’ said General Pike in the same cold voice. ‘Hanging at the very least, but I understand drawing and quartering are still sometimes used to punish treason.’

  ‘And what happens if I stay?’

  Pike nodded his head a little. It was the first time MacLea had seen him move. ‘Cannon and muskets don’t win wars,’ he said. ‘Hearts and minds do. We are about to deal Canadian morale a series of hammer blows. The first, as Colonel Calder says, is the announcement of your defection and the fact that you have taken up command of the Canadian Volunteers. Secondly, in a month’s time, Colonel Lawrence will mount an attack on Sackett’s Harbor. As you will have surmised by now, we have misled your intelligence officers about the strength of the defences, and Lawrence will suffer a shattering defeat. The Canadian Volunteers will play a key role in that defeat, and be lauded as heroes.’

  The general paused for a moment to let MacLea think about this. ‘Third,’ he said, ‘once the ice melts, we will launch our final invasion of Canada. I shall lead it, and you will be there beside me, the one-time defender of Upper Canada now riding as its liberator. The Canadians will not resist us; their morale will be broken. The British, outnumbered and lacking popular support, will be forced to withdraw or surrender. Upper Canada will fall in two weeks, and we shall turn towards Montreal and take Lower Canada as well. By summer’s end, the war will be over.’

  Major Forsyth stirred a little. ‘What about it, Captain? That’s the deal on the table. Work with us or face the firing squad knowing you’re taking that little lady in York to her doom as well. What’ll it be?’

  ‘Do you customarily make war on women, Major Forsyth?’ MacLea asked.

  ‘We do whatever it takes to win, Captain,’ Forsyth said. ‘I reckon you can see that now, can’t you? It’s time to make up your mind.’

  MacLea spread his hands. ‘I accept your offer. What choice do I have?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  By the time Boydell, Derenzy, Murray and the men of MacLea’s company returned to York, February had given way to March. The days were longer now, and the sun had a little more warmth to it; sometimes in the quiet afternoons the trickle of melting snow could be heard. The icicles hanging from the eaves of every building grew thicker and longer, and every so often one would break under its own weight and crash to the ground. People began walking in the middle of the street, away from the houses, to avoid them; last year, two men had been killed by falling icicles.

  Immediately upon their return, Murray and Boydell had been summoned to John Beverley Robinson’s office to report. Grimly they told the attorney general what had happened. ‘So they took MacLea but let the rest of you go,’ Robinson said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m damned if I know,’ said Murray.

  ‘And Dunne? You got nothing out of him?’

  ‘We didn’t have time,’ said Boydell. ‘No sooner had we captured him than the Americans were on top of us, and then Calder shot him.’

  ‘I don’t understand that either,’ Murray said.

  ‘Very well,’ said Robinson. ‘We’ll contact the Americans and see what can be done about a prisoner exchange. It might take a few months. Meanwhile, I want the two of you to work together. Carry on the search for Polaris. Do whatever you have to do, but find that spy, and find him soon. Time is running out.’

  * * *

  ‘Try to look on the bright side, madame,’ Murray said gently. He had gone straight from Robinson’s office to the Selby house to find Josephine. ‘He was alive and unharmed when I last saw him. Robinson is already talking about an exchange.’

  ‘But why did they take him?’ asked Josephine. She sat dry-eyed and motionless, bathed in winter sunshine, trying to fight off the cold claws that were clutching at her heart.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Murray said again. He smiled, trying to show a cheer he did not feel. ‘Let’s wait until we get him back. Then we’ll find out.’

  ‘Did you find Dunne? Was he the man I shot?’

  Murray shook his head. ‘No. Dunne was unwounded.’

  ‘Then who was it? Alec… if it wasn’t Dunne, that means the killer could still be here in York.’

  ‘I know,’ said Murray. ‘Abel Thomas and the boys will guard this house, and you, with their lives. Don’t worry, madame. We’ll keep you safe until John
returns.’

  ‘I’m not worried about myself,’ she said, and it was true. ‘I am terrified for John. They didn’t take him for no reason, Alec. This is all part of Polaris’s plan.’

  * * *

  ‘The entire things stinks,’ Murray said a little later to Charlotte Lawrence. Evicted from her home by her husband, she had been given refuge by the Selbys, where she had quickly made herself invaluable helping Josephine and Elizabeth Derenzy look after the latter’s father. The old man was now very ill, fading away almost by the day.

  ‘They knew exactly where to find us,’ Murray said. ‘Where and when. That means someone in our own camp must have tipped them off.’

  ‘Do you know who it might be?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No,’ said Murray. ‘It could be anyone. One of the local militia, perhaps, who learnt what we were planning and sent word across the river. God knows how many agents Polaris has.’

  A week later, the rumours began. At first people were incredulous, but the rumours grew stronger and the whispers increased. Doubt began to set in, and then came confirmation. An American deserter, a soldier from Sackett’s Harbor, had seen Captain John MacLea there, wearing an American uniform and drilling a company of Canadian defectors quite openly in the main parade square. James Boydell brought the news to Josephine.

  ‘I thought you would rather hear it first from a friend,’ he said.

  ‘But what does it mean?’ asked Josephine.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Boydell. ‘He has some scheme up his sleeve, that’s for certain. He may be trying to win their confidence, so they will relax their guard and he can escape.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘You can probably guess what some people are saying. Some folk are willing to believe any nonsense. Don’t listen to them. Trust John.’

  ‘I always have,’ she said calmly, ‘and I always will. But thank you for coming to see me, Mr Boydell. Please give my regards to your wife, and I hope she recovers soon.’

  Boydell grimaced. ‘It’s the tension,’ he said. ‘She has a delicate constitution, and her nerves are overwrought. And who can blame her? Spring is coming, and the war is about to resume. Colonel Lawrence has departed for Kingston, and his expedition against Sackett’s Harbor will march in ten days. If he succeeds, we will have bought a little time. If he fails, the Americans will launch a new invasion. Who knows where they will strike? Kingston? Niagara? Perhaps even here?’

  * * *

  Her next visitor was less welcome. The following morning, the footman knocked at the door of the drawing room where she sat reading and presented the calling card of Julius Kramer. She was about to say she was not at home, but then changed her mind.

  ‘Madame,’ said Kramer, bowing elaborately. ‘I was not sure if you would receive me.’

  ‘I wasn’t either,’ she said.

  He took a seat facing her, crossing his legs. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Your lover has crossed over to the enemy. Will you be joining him any time soon? Your work here must surely be done.’

  ‘What do you want?’ Josephine asked. ‘Speak plainly.’

  The Austrian’s face hardened. ‘Very well. I know you are one of Beauregard’s agents. I exposed your identity to the authorities here, but no action was taken. Now I understand why. John MacLea is also in Beauregard’s pay, and he intervened to keep you safe.’

  Josephine said nothing.

  ‘How ironic,’ said Kramer. ‘That fool Robinson hired MacLea to search for Polaris, never realising that he was hiring one of Polaris’s own confederates. Beauregard must have nearly died laughing when he heard the news.’

  ‘I will ask you again,’ said Josephine. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want Beauregard,’ Kramer said. ‘And I want you to tell me where I can find him.’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Josephine. ‘I have never known. In any case, I stopped working for the Americans weeks ago.’

  ‘Do you expect me to believe that? You were Beauregard’s whore, and you still are. Does he know about you and MacLea? I am sure he does. Perhaps they share you.’

  Josephine rose to her feet. ‘Get out,’ she said.

  Kramer did not move. ‘Tell me where to find Beauregard.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘So that you can kill him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Believe me, Mr Kramer,’ said Josephine. ‘If I knew where Colonel Beauregard was, I would have killed him myself. Now get out of this house, or I will have the servants throw you out.’

  * * *

  By the middle of March, everyone knew.

  They knew too, by now, of the connection between Josephine and MacLea; they had been seen talking together at the Derenzy wedding and enjoying each other’s company. Now people looked at her in the street but did not speak. Some crossed the road to avoid her.

  ‘You mustn’t mind them,’ said Elizabeth Derenzy. Her husband was back in Kingston again; his unit, the light company of the 41st Foot, had been sent to reinforce Colonel Lawrence’s force. ‘People like to believe bad things about each other. I know that better than anyone.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Charlotte Lawrence with feeling. ‘You must be strong, madame. Captain MacLea will return soon, and then everyone will realise what fools they have been.’ She smiled. ‘Think what fun we shall have, rubbing their noses in it. This revenge will be particularly sweet, I think.’

  But the following day, James Boydell called again. His face was sombre. ‘I need to speak to you privately,’ he said.

  They went into the library, Josephine locking the door behind her. ‘What is it? What is wrong?’

  ‘Have you ever met a man named Calder? Or heard of him?’

  She had, of course; John had told her about the encounter at Frenchman’s Creek when he came to see her in Niagara. She shook her head. ‘No. Who is he?’

  ‘Ostensibly he was a businessman and farmer in York County. He was also a militiaman in my company. Then last autumn, not long after Queenston, he defected to the Americans. Now he is at Sackett’s Harbor, with John.’

  ‘What of it? He must be one of those defectors John is supposed to be training.’

  Boydell shook his head. ‘I fear not,’ he said. ‘I have been investigating Calder to see if there are connections with Polaris. It transpires that he is, and has been for many years, an officer in the US Army Ordnance Survey, their bureau of intelligence. He has recently been promoted to the rank of colonel, and is second in command of the bureau. He reports directly to the American spymaster, Colonel Beauregard.’

  Josephine suppressed a tremor. ‘I still don’t see why this matters,’ she said.

  Boydell drew a deep breath. ‘Once I realised who Calder was, I searched his house. I found letters. They were written in code, but I managed to decipher it. Madame… I don’t know how to say this. John was in correspondence with Calder, both before the war and after hostilities broke out.’

  She sat frozen, staring at him.

  ‘It breaks my heart to say this,’ Boydell said quietly. ‘He was a great comrade and a good friend. My wife will be distraught; she thinks the world of him. And I can only guess how you must feel.’

  ‘No,’ said Josephine. ‘I don’t think you can.’

  ‘No, perhaps not. Madame, I am so sorry. But the evidence of these letters is incontrovertible. John MacLea was also working with the Ordnance Survey. He too is an American spy and has been for many years.’

  * * *

  She had one dependable ally, and another man she hoped to persuade. As soon as Boydell had departed, she wrote to Alec Murray and Major James Givins, asking them to attend on her. Both arrived at the Selby house within the hour.

  ‘What is going on?’ she asked them.

  ‘Polaris,’ said Murray. ‘He planted the evidence, of course. But why does Boydell believe it?’

  ‘Because of all the other rumours,’ said Givins. ‘We have had several reports now of MacLea’s activities at Sackett’s Harbor. He dines with the American commander there, Gener
al Pike. The whole world thinks he has gone over to the other side. This evidence connecting him with Calder makes perfect sense.’

  ‘Do you believe it?’ she asked him.

  ‘Should I?’

  Standing by the fire, Murray planted his hands on his hips but said nothing.

  ‘Why have you continued to pay me?’ Josephine demanded.

  ‘Right from the beginning, everything about this operation has been smoke and mirrors,’ Givins said. ‘No one has told the truth, not you, not MacLea; and, of course, not me. I haven’t revealed my hand to you, madame, nor have you shown yours to me. Now perhaps we should lay our cards on the table.’ He paused. ‘You go first,’ he said. ‘What was in those messages you were passing to the Americans?’

  ‘Information about the defences of Kingston,’ she said. ‘I told the Americans that new fortifications were being built, with two regiments of infantry and more heavy artillery added to the garrison. I said Kingston was impregnable.’

  ‘Which of course it isn’t. A posse of old ladies with brooms could sweep the defences of Kingston away.’ Givins nodded. ‘Very clever. Let’s hope it works.’

  ‘We’ll know when the ice melts and the American fleet sets sail,’ Murray said. ‘What about you, Major? Time to see your hand, I think.’

  ‘Why have you continued to pay me?’ Josephine asked again.

  ‘Because I wanted to see what you and MacLea would do,’ Givins said. ‘I knew you were up to something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Now I understand.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I wish I had known earlier. We should have trusted each other.’

  ‘And do you believe MacLea is a defector?’ Murray asked.

  Silence. Givins looked from one to the other. ‘All the evidence I have heard suggests he is,’ he said. ‘But… no. I don’t believe it. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.’

  ‘We need to clear his name,’ said Josephine. ‘Will you help us?’