Mission to Love (Brothers in Arms Book 14)

by Samantha Kane

  “Thank you again,” Robert said, glaring over his shoulder at the other two.

  “Yes, thank you,” Simon chimed in, sounding moderately sincere.

  “Thank you,” Hastings said, making a face at Robert. The harbormaster marched off, disgusted with them all.

  “You don’t do yourself any favors by making enemies of men like him,” Simon told Hastings, surprising Robert. He hadn’t thought Simon was very interested in the proceedings, either.

  “Why?” Hastings asked belligerently. “I still think this is a waste of time.”

  “Because he may not have the information we need today, but he might in the future, on another case,” Simon told him. He stood up slowly. His back must still be bothering him. Perhaps their activities last night had been too much for him.

  Robert blushed and turned away to hide it. He’d actually meant the sneaking about at Alice Gaines’s, but as soon as he’d had the thought, their other activities entered his mind. That was this morning, however. It was a good thing he had no intention of repeating their liaison, since he was fairly certain Simon’s back couldn’t take it.

  “I think you are both being unnecessarily negative,” he said, joining the conversation just so he could get away from his own thoughts. “This information may yet prove quite valuable. We don’t know yet.”

  “You are right, of course,” Simon said with another sigh. “I’m being morose today. Forgive me.” He flashed a smile, but caught himself and looked away again. As unbelievable as it seemed, he appeared self-conscious about what had happened between them as well.

  “Fine,” Hastings said impatiently. “I’ll go and trade pleasantries with the harbormaster and try to hurry this along. Satisfied?” He stomped off.

  “It’s probably not a good idea to leave him alone with anyone,” Robert commented, watching Simon.

  “No,” Simon agreed. “Shall I follow him?” He turned as if to do so.

  Robert stepped in his path to stop him. The noise of the busy office behind them created a small bit of privacy. “No,” he said. “We can’t go on like this, Simon.”

  “Oh, dear,” Simon said, a brief, amused smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “It sounds as if you are giving me my congé. Over so soon, is it?”

  “Simon,” Robert said, chastising him with that one word.

  Simon had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. You’re right, of course. Damned awkward, though, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. So let us be gentlemen about it and simply agree to let it pass. It happened, and it won’t happen again. We were both…”

  “Yes?” Simon asked curiously as he hesitated. “What were we, exactly? I’ve been wondering that, too.”

  “Half asleep,” Robert concluded, knowing it was a lie.

  “All right, we’ll agree to that,” Simon said. “Why not? It’s as good as anything else.”

  “I could have been anyone,” Robert said.

  “Oh, well.” Simon looked as offended as he sounded. “That’s what you think of me, is it? Good to know.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Robert asked, confused. “I mean, we hardly know one another. I’m a married man. I’m married to Christy, the woman you—” He broke off, shocked at what he’d almost said.

  “Yes, there’s that. The woman I…well, then.” Simon looked away. “You needn’t worry that it will happen again. With you or with Christy. I promise I will keep my promiscuous ways to myself while under your roof.” He looked over Robert’s shoulder. “If I find myself unable to deny my baser instincts, I will seek out Hastings.”

  “Here, what?” Hastings asked from over Robert’s shoulder, startling him.

  “Nothing,” Robert said quickly. “Simon was attempting to be funny.”

  “He shouldn’t,” Hastings said. “He could get hurt that way.”

  “Too late,” Simon said with a laugh. “I’ve let my poor humor lead me to disaster too many times to recall already.”

  “Well, stop it,” Hastings said, looking at both of them. “We’ve just got to find the Dutchman and stop an assassination, and I can be shot of the two of you. Keep your heads on straight until the job is over. Christ almighty, I’m not being paid to nanny you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Robert blustered. “I am perfectly fine.”

  “Right as rain, sure thing, Constable,” Hastings said sarcastically. “I may not be the best spy here, gentlemen, but even I can spot that lie with my limited skills. Come on. Let’s find a ship.”

  There was only one ship that stood out among the fourteen detained by customs the day before. A Turkish cargo vessel that came into port half empty, carrying a small cargo of rugs. Customs had flagged the ship because they had no manifest, no port of origin for the goods, nor any details about their cargo other than the most basic: rugs.

  “Well, that’s certainly suspicious,” Robert agreed.

  “With no authentication for the rugs, they are worthless in the British market,” Simon said. “They might as well have listed them as destined for the black market right on a forged manifest.”

  “Doesn’t that rule them out?” Hastings asked. “It would seem that someone who was trying to sneak into the country and was operating a spy ring would try not to attract the attention of the authorities.”

  “If they know what they’re doing, that’s true,” Simon said. “But the more we discover about this case, the more I begin to doubt that. Nothing about this seems to follow the usual protocols, does it? A spy network of boys? A partnership with a madam? Assassination? Nothing about this seems right.”

  “I know we must find the Dutchman and stop whatever he has planned,” Robert said. “But my objective is still the same as it ever was. To find and bring to justice the person or persons responsible for killing those boys. In all that has transpired in the last day or so, their deaths seem to have been forgotten.”

  “You work for Sir Barnabas now,” Hastings told him. “Your objective is whatever his objective is.”

  “I will find his spy,” Robert said. “But I did not seek his employment, nor did I have anything to say about it. So he shall simply have to accept my objectives or learn not to be so highhanded in the future.”

  Simon’s laughter sounded delighted. “Oh I am going to enjoy this game of cat and mouse. You do realize those boys, as you call them, were spying for a foreign power? That’s treason.”

  “You heard the Dutchman. He admitted that they were ignorant of what they were doing, innocent couriers. They were boys and they died horribly.” He stopped and looked at Simon and Hastings. “No one else is speaking for them. So I shall.”

  “So you shall,” Simon said quietly, staring back at him. “No, Robert—we shall. Isn’t that right, Hastings?”

  “I used to be one of them.” Hastings took his hat off and wiped his brow with his handkerchief. “Damned hot, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s still hot,” Simon said. “What do you mean, you were one of them?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t a boy traitor, but I could have been.” Hastings barely stopped to check for traffic before he stepped out into the busy street. “I was one of those orphans, running around the streets, no family, no education, no one to care. It was Sir Barnabas who found me and recruited me, but it could just as easily have been someone like the Dutchman or Alice Gaines.” He looked at Robert over his shoulder. “So yes, I’ll help you find the she-devils who killed those boys. It’s the least I can do for my own kind, isn’t it?”

  Robert didn’t know what to say to that. A life like that was foreign to him. He’d been raised privileged, perhaps not among the aristocracy, but well-to-do, the son of a prosperous businessman. His father had died when he was young and he had been overindulged by his mother, but he’d been well educated and wanted for nothing. Yet another reason why his current situation baffled so many. Why lower himself to do police work? But cases like this were exactly why.

  The Turkish ship sat out in the h
arbor, still waiting for an available docking but cleared by customs, who had inspected the goods and found nothing unusual about the rugs. The customs man had made a note: poor quality/not Turkish.

  But it was the note below that one that had sent them looking for the ship first: Dutch captain.

  “It would be too simple if the Dutchman we seek is this captain,” Robert said.

  “Yes,” Simon said. “And I don’t trust simple.”

  “Neither do I,” Robert said.

  “I love simple,” Hastings said. “That’s why I like the jobs where I get to just kill someone. That’s easy. Here’s a name. Go kill them. Good job. On to the next. None of this tramping all over town and making nice with the locals and trying to figure out who did what. It doesn’t matter who did what. Sir Barnabas says they need to go. I make them disappear. Now that’s simple.”

  “You are very frightening,” Robert told him, and he meant it. They had reached the ferry landing where they were joined by a group of Sir Barnabas’s men, who would board the ship with them.

  Robert hadn’t even known men like Hastings existed. He certainly hadn’t known his childhood friend and schoolmate Daniel was one of them. Finding out about Daniel’s secret life had been a turning point for Robert. His life had gone in extraordinary directions ever since he’d been pulled into Daniel’s affairs. He was married now, a father, he’d had…whatever that was with Simon this morning, and here he was tracking spies for the Home Office. He wasn’t sure he particularly cared for the last, to be sure. He liked being a constable, solving crimes, protecting the populace.

  As for Simon, he had mixed emotions. He’d been friends with Daniel, and been aware of his predilection for men, for too long to be shocked by his own encounter in that regard. But he was shocked at how easily he’d fallen into the passionate interlude with Simon. He’d never been tempted by another man before for all he was aware that men acted in such a manner.

  He knew he was boring and staid in comparison to Daniel and Simon and men like Hastings. He was content to pursue his livelihood, seek a wife and family, and live his life simply. He had never sought excitement, or wanted to live a less mundane life. He thrived on order, duty, organization. The disorganized life of a spy did not appeal to him in the slightest. Nor did the abnormal affections of same-sex love. Other men might be able to live with the inherent disorder of a life like that, but not Robert.

  And yet…and yet he’d married Christy, who was a contradiction of all he believed in from the moment he met her. Married to one man, pregnant with another’s child, on the run, lying about her identity, having a love affair with Simon—Robert had known all of that and he’d still asked for her hand. He’d been ready to beg for it. And he had never regretted marrying her. Not for one second.

  He looked over at Simon. Were his confusing feelings for Simon just a result of his love for Christy? He knew she still cared for Simon, she’d admitted it to him earlier. Was he simply trying to get ahead of a possible complication on the horizon? His mind balked at where his thoughts were leading. He couldn’t imagine disrupting his well-organized life in such a fashion.

  Perhaps the solution was more complicated than that. Perhaps in a convoluted way Robert was making sure there would be a place for him in Christy’s life, no matter what happened.

  The thought made him stumble, and Simon reached out a hand to catch him before he fell. Robert shook it off, Simon’s touch like a splash of cold water, sending goose bumps along his arm.

  Was that it? Was he trying to prepare himself to accept the inevitable? Christy had wanted Simon, and it was apparent that Simon still wanted her. What man wouldn’t? After the last two days, Robert could plainly see that no matter what had caused Simon to reject Christy last year, he was a good man at heart. Did Robert have the right to stand in the way of their love?

  “Are you coming?” Simon asked. Robert looked over at him, startled. Simon was standing with one leg on the ferry, the other on the dock, his hand held out to him, a quizzical look on his face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Robert lied. “I’m fine. I’m coming.” He motioned Simon ahead and followed him onto the ferry. They would have to see this thing to the end, wherever it might lead. To the Dutchman, and possibly to the end of Robert’s marriage.

  Chapter 14

  “Ahoy there,” the ferry man called out. “Customs to board!”

  Simon did not want to board the ship. He didn’t like the feeling. He hadn’t wanted to do parts of the job before, of course, but mostly for reasons of laziness or foreboding. What he felt now was fear. Fear because his jailers had been Turks and the men negotiating his release had been Dutch. A fine partnership that had lasted hundreds of years along the Barbary Coast, with or without treaties or international agreements.

  And just knowing he would be on their ship again, that there was a possibility, remote though it may be, that he could be captured again, made him break out in a cold sweat. Why did the first case upon his return have to involve this devastating combination? It was a heavy blow that knocked the breath out of him and made him lightheaded and nauseous.

  “You don’t look well,” Robert said to him quietly. Of course Robert would notice. He noticed everything. “Is it the water?”

  It took a moment for Simon to comprehend what he meant. He shook his head and then wished he’d said yes. It was a fine cover.

  “Stay here,” Robert ordered him. That did the trick.

  “I’m fine,” Simon said. “Quit being an old woman.”

  He glanced over and saw the second ferry making its way around the bow. While they had the attention of the crew, the rest of Sir Barnabas’s men were going to board quietly on the starboard side. By the time they reached the deck and announced their real intent, they should be able to subdue the crew handily.

  “Customs?” a man shouted down at them from the deck. Perhaps the captain, he sounded Dutch. But not the Dutchman from Alice Gaines’s. “We have been inspected already.”

  “Still have some questions,” Hastings shouted back. He held up a slim leather portfolio with papers sticking out. “Paperwork, I’m afraid,” he called apologetically. The captain’s curses were carried away by the wind but he motioned them on board.

  “Can you climb the rigging?” Robert asked.

  “Yes,” Simon said through lips tight with anger. He knew Robert was asking for his own safety and that of the others. They didn’t need a man going up who couldn’t pull his own weight and might need rescuing if things got rough. Simon had never been that man and never would be.

  He came up in the rear. He could do it, but he wasn’t the strongest or fastest and he was man enough to admit it. He hoped his days of doing second story work weren’t behind him.

  By the time he climbed onto the deck, Sir Barnabas’s men were in place with the crew under control and Hastings was interrogating the captain. Robert had waited to help him onto the deck.

  “I’m fully capable of climbing over the rail myself,” he grumbled, taking Robert’s hand.

  “Of course you are,” Robert said. “But there’s no need to reinjure yourself at this point with needless heroics. Come on.” His brisk tone was businesslike and cooled Simon’s temper. As soon as his feet were firmly on the deck, Robert dropped his hand and walked away without a backward glance. So much for sentimentality.

  “Where did you pick him up?” Hastings was asking the captain.

  “Algiers,” the captain said in disgust. “And if I had known he would cause so much trouble, I would have turned down his offer.”

  “What offer?” Hastings asked.

  “He said he knew a man in London who would be interested in buying this ship.”

  “Did he have other business in London?” Robert asked.

  “I didn’t ask,” the captain said. “And he didn’t offer. He said he needed to go to London and knew someone who would be interested in my ship, we came to a mutually satisfying arrangement, and here we are.”
/>   “And are you in the habit of transporting spies, no questions asked, captain?” Simon queried.

  The captain grew pale at the question. “How was I to know he was a spy?” he argued. “A well-dressed Dutch businessman. The last time I checked, the English and the Dutch were friends, yes? Ask the Bey in Algiers, who is still trying to rebuild his city that you destroyed together not too long ago.”

  “You are Dutch, and yet you captain a Turkish ship,” Robert said.

  “This is true,” the captain said with a shrug. “But this is business. I own the ship, but she sails out of Algiers. That’s why I have no papers. I only recently acquired her and am in the middle of sorting out the particulars. My Dutch papers are in process. I have the bill of sale. It satisfied customs.”

  “And the crew?” Robert asked.

  “They came with the ship.” The captain shrugged again.

  Simon beckoned one of the agents over. “Go with him.” He turned to the captain. “Fetch the bill of sale.” The captain hurried away. Simon turned to Robert and Hastings. “The captain seems to be telling the truth. I have a sense about these things. But something is amiss here. I can feel it. I don’t think the captain knows what is going on aboard his own ship.” He looked around at the crew, all of whom were eyeing them sullenly. “We need to search this ship.”

  Less than an hour later they were staring at a square-shaped hole cut in the middle of the pile of rugs. It had been not so cleverly concealed by several rugs laid on top of the pile. “I shall have to send a sternly worded note to customs about the obvious lack in their searching techniques,” Robert said gravely. “What do you suppose they were smuggling in?”

  “Not they. He,” Simon said. “Clearly the Dutchman was bringing more than himself to London. Question the crew,” he said without looking at the agents behind him.

  Belatedly he realized he was sounding and acting more and more like Sir Barnabas, just expecting his will to be carried out. He turned around only to see that the agents had melted away, obeying his orders. It was a bit heady. No wonder Sir Barnabas seemed drunk on power half the time.