by Lady Vixen
He had known that he and Jason were on opposite sides when it came to Lafitte and his activities, but he had not thought that the Barataria situation presented such a problem that it required the efforts of the United States Army to solve it! He supposed he was not thinking very clearly, but the news had been an unexpected and unpleasant shock, and he had a certain amount of loyalty to Lafitte. He was regretfully angry and bitterly resentful to think that while he had been in England, ostensibly with the same goal in mind as Jason and the governor, they had been plotting to destroy a man known to be his friend.
It cost an effort, but after a moment Christopher said indifferently to Eustace, "So Lafitte is no longer at Barataria and his men are in the calaboose. Very interesting, my friend. And as you remarked earlier, things have been happening while I have been gone."
"Yes. And that brings me back to my original question. Mon ami, where have you been these past months?"
Christopher returned a light answer, adroitly turning the conversation to less personal matters, and after a bit Eustace was busy passing on bits of tittle-tattle that Christopher barely heard, his mind still on the news of Lafitte's destruction. He finished his coffee, and in no mood to be entertained by Eustace's lightly malicious chatter, he excused himself, claiming a prior appointment.
Jason's peculiar manner yesterday came back to him, and with a mirthless smile he recalled the advice not to jump to conclusions. Well, he wouldn't, but Jason had better damn well have a good explanation, and he sure as hell wasn't waiting until Thursday to talk with him! Savage would see him today, or else...
Jason was in the midst of a meeting in his home when Christopher's card was presented to him a few minutes later. Irritably he glanced at it, having a very good idea of why Saxon was here. Wisely he realized there was nothing for it but to see him immediately. He didn't relish the thought of what Christopher was capable of doing if he pushed him too far. Murmuring an apology, Jason left the room and walked impatiently to the small salon where Christopher waited.
One look at Christopher's tight-lipped features was enough to tell Jason that his hunch had been right. Resignedly he asked, "You've heard about Lafitte, I take it."
"You're damn right about that!" Christopher spat, his eyes gleaming gold between the dark lashes. "Why in the hell didn't you tell me yesterday? Why did you have to be so goddamn mysterious about it?"
"Because, mon ami, I simply did not have time to soothe your indignant feathers. I do not have the time now, but you have forced this meeting on me. Take that scowl off your face while I explain a few things to you."
Feeling slightly chastened and not liking it at all, Christopher sat down stiffly on a couch of red Moroccan leather. Common sense reasserted itself, and he said calmly, if coldly, "I apologize for inflicting myself upon you like this. And I am sorry if it is inconvenient. If you would like, I can call at a more suitable time, but I intend to see you today. I want to know exactly what happened and I am"—a wry smile crossed his face—"willing to listen to reason."
Relaxing at Christopher's less aggressive tone of voice, Jason replied easily, "I, too, owe you an apology. I should have told you immediately about Lafitte and not have let you find it out, along with all the half-truths, from someone else."
Taking a small gold watch from his vest pocket, Jason glanced at it, saying, "I shall be in this meeting until luncheon. Will you come back at, say, two o'clock? I really am afraid I cannot see you before that time." He added grimly, "Claiborne is in such fidgets over that damned memorandum that my life is no longer my own."
Christopher inclined his head in agreement. Together the two men walked out into the hall, and after shaking hands, Jason strolled back to his meeting and Christopher departed.
He had no inclination to return to Maspero's, nor did he wish to seek out Dauphine Street and the unresolved situation that awaited him there. Instead he walked aimlessly along the muddied wooden sidewalks, letting his feet take him where they would, his mind on Lafitte.
That first surge of irrational anger had faded, and Christopher was able to view the event more sensibly. Lafitte was, despite his standing in the city, a smuggler, and he did break the law every day. And there was no denying that in his crew there were men who could only be labeled outright pirates. I warned him, Christopher thought savagely as he continued to walk. By God, but I warned him.
Unfortunately that knowledge gave him little comfort, and without surprise he found he had wandered to the ramparts. Lafitte had a small cottage nearby, and a moment later Christopher found himself standing in front of it.
The wooden building appeared deserted, but as he remained there, the conviction grew that someone was watching him. A faint movement, barely discernible through the barred and shuttered windows, convinced him of it, and with a determined stride he walked boldly up to the door.
At first there was no answer to his sharp rap on the door, but when he repeated it a second time, very slowly the door opened. Stepping inside, without any astonishment at all he stared at Lafitte, as he stood negligently by the door. Lafitte was the first to speak.
"Well, mon ami, we meet again." With an irrepressible twinkle in the black eyes, he murmured, "But in vastly different circumstances, hey?"
"Very," Christopher replied dryly, watching as Lafitte shut the door and walked over to a simple scrubbed oak table.
Waving him to one of the sturdy wooden chairs placed near the table, Lafitte said, "Sit down, mon ami! Sit down and tell me why you have come to call. I do not think that I am in a very good odor with most people in the city these days, and I am amazed you even bothered to seek me out."
With brutal honesty Christopher replied, "I did not know that you were here—I just had a hunch that you might be. And I couldn't imagine you running away with your tail between your legs."
"Ha! After Patterson and Ross were finished with Barataria, I almost didn't have a tail to put between my legs!"
"I know. And I'm sorry, Jean," Christopher said quietly, adding slowly, "I don't want to insult you by offering you money, but if you need it, you know that I will supply you with it—that and anything else you may need."
A rueful smile curved Lafitte's mouth. "I have not reached the point yet where I must exist on charity. But I thank you for your offer, and it pleases me that despite your yearning for respectability, you are not willing to desert me."
Christopher grimaced and said carelessly, "You helped me when I needed it—I am only returning the favor."
Lafitte nodded. "Yes, that is so. But come let us talk of other things. I presume you would like to know what happened to the good Allen Ballard, would you not?"
With a derisive gleam in the gold eyes, Christopher admitted coolly, "Actually I had not given Mr. Ballard another thought. Did you release him as planned?"
Lafitte looked almost smug as he said with grandeur, "I did better than merely release him, mon ami! I will not go into details, but the opportunity presented itself to me to politely place him in the hands of a few of his fellow British officers, and not one to overlook opportunity, I quickly seized upon it. I would guess that he is now somewhere on his way back to England... or more likely safely ensconced with the British fleet currently harrying us on the Gulf." Sending Christopher a laughingly reproachful glance, Lafitte murmured, "The shifts I am put to by my friends!"
There were a dozen questions Christopher would have liked to ask about Allen's return to the British, the first being the circumstances of Lafitte's meeting with British officers. But Lafitte had already stated he would give no details, and from past experience Christopher knew he would gain nothing by persisting. Lafitte had told him all he intended to . . . for the moment. Yet he could not let it rest entirely—there was definitely something here that he did not like, something he could not put his finger on. The question of Allen's fate aside, Lafitte's entire attitude troubled him. Jean was simply too carelessly indifferent, too cheerful. A man who had lost everything did not act as Lafitte did—not
when he was reduced to hiding in a small cottage near the ramparts. Frowning, Christopher demanded bluntly, "Jean, what are you going to do now? Let the Americans hound you from New Orleans? And what about Dominique You and the others?"
Lafitte's face instantly went smooth, a calculating gleam in the black eyes. "Do you ask that for yourself or for your friend Jason Savage? Savage who whispers into the governor's ear?"
His own face suddenly hard and angry, Christopher said levelly, "I think you know the answer to that question. I have told you before how I stand."
"So you have, mon ami, but considering the circumstances, you will forgive me if I am suspicious. After all, I have no reason to love the governor, and word has already circulated that you and Monsieur Savage called upon him yesterday. I wonder if you will tell me of that meeting?"
Caught off guard, having forgotten that Lafitte's spies were some of the most adept, Christopher stared at him, suddenly wishing to hell he had never started this conversation. Telling Lafitte of that meeting was out of the question, and yet if he did not, Lafitte would never trust him again. And for some unknown reason Christopher instinctively felt that it was vitally important that Lafitte continue to look upon him as a friend. Trapped in an unpleasant situation, Christopher took the only way out that someone of his nature could; with his jaw set stubbornly, he said bluntly, "I cannot."
Surprisingly his answer seemed to please Lafitte. "I know that, mon ami. If you had told me what you know, I would never have trusted you again. A man who will betray one secret will betray many."
"You are turning into quite a philosopher," Christopher drawled wryly.
"Ah, yes, it happens occasionally," Jean agreed lightly. Studying his hands clasped together on the table before him, Lafitte said slowly, "You ask what I am to do and I tell you I do not know. Barataria is in ruins; my warehouse, my ships are burned and in the hands of the Americans; many of my men are in cells in the calaboose. But I am not beaten. The Americans know nothing of the men that escaped and that are waiting my command at the Isles Dernieres, nor do they even guess that there is another, a secret warehouse of flints and ammunition, easily accessible to me." Bitterly, the black eyes bleak and hard, he finished, "They will regret it, mon ami, that they turned down my offer of help."
Alert and slightly puzzled at Lafitte's words, Christopher asked sharply, "Your offer of help?"
Lafitte sent him a mirthless smile. "You have not heard? The British approached me, with the intention of having myself and my men join their ranks, and as you will instantly guess, it was then I gave them Ballard. I did not give those same officers an immediate answer; instead, like a fool, I notified Claiborne that I was willing to repulse the British proposal and fight on the side of New Orleans if he would allow me to do so." His voice thickening with injustice, Lafitte spat, "You see the result of my offer!"
Watching Lafitte's ruthless face, Christopher thought exasperatedly, By heaven, Savage, I hope you and Claiborne know what you have done!
He said as much to Savage when he met with him later. The instant the two men were alone in Jason's library, Christopher snapped, "I've seen Lafitte. Would you mind telling my why the governor refused his help? We need any help we can get, and you know damn well that Lafitte's men are already war-hardened. My God, Jason, from what we know we will be outnumbered almost three to one, and you and Claiborne turn down a force of nearly a thousand men!"
Jason sighed heavily. "I know. And all I can say is that I did not vote with the others for the attack on Barataria. I believed those letters Lafitte sent were genuine. But Patterson and Ross had been preparing for the assault on Barataria for weeks and they overruled everyone else."
The hard, handsome features were hostile and slightly disbelieving; Christopher requested sourly, "Suppose you tell me exactly what did happen? From the beginning, if you please."
Settling back in his chair, Jason did precisely that. "The first I heard about it," he began slowly, "was when I received a note to come immediately to the governor's house on the fourth or fifth of September. When I arrived there, I found that several others also had been sent a similar message. Major General Jacques Villere, Patterson, and Ross were present acting as Claiborne's naval and military advisors; Collector Dubourg, in charge of the customs for the government in New Orleans, was naturally there, as well as myself and one or two others. John Blanque was there too—his presence, I assume, comes as no surprise to you."
It did not. John Blanque, a lawyer-banker and a member of the legislature, was known to be extremely sympathetic toward the Lafitte brothers. There were even well-founded rumors that he had financed several of the vessels owned by the brothers, and there was no denying that he was very definitely their friend.
At Christopher's curt nod of agreement, Jason continued, "Lafitte had sent certain letters to Blanque of a purported British bid for his services, along with a letter to the governor expressing his desire 'to return to the sheep-fold.' And he wrote, I remember exactly, 'that the only reward I ask is that a stop be put to the proscription against me and my adherents.' We all found it a little hard to believe," Jason commented dryly. "But before the meeting ended, I for one was convinced that letters of the British offer for his services were genuine. I did still have some doubts as to his sincerity, but, as you said, a thousand armed men, even of dubious loyalty, fighting for the city was better than none at all! I was willing to consider the matter, as were one or two of the other men. Unfortunately Claiborne relied entirely on his military advisors, asking them only two questions: Did they think the letters genuine? And was it proper for the governor to enter into any correspondence with Lafitte or his associates?" Jason paused, his face somber as he looked across at Christopher. Then in a weary voice he said, "Villere voted vehemently yes, while Patterson and Ross voted no. And that ended it, mon ami. The governor decided that Lafitte's expulsion from Barataria was more urgent than to give any credence to what might only be a trick on Lafitte's part."
"You didn't think that."
"No. I did not," Jason agreed. "But I am not the governor. He did as he saw fit. And you really cannot blame the man for falling in with his military advisors. After all, that is why he has them! Patterson and Ross did not believe the letters genuine, and I cannot say that I hold it against them. Now, though, with what you have brought back from England, I am even more certain that the British did attempt to bribe Lafitte and that those letters were, in fact, precisely what Lafitte said they were. Unfortunately Lafitte is now our enemy, and we may come to regret bitterly that we acted as we did," Jason finished dispiritedly.
Christopher's tone was thoughtful as he murmured, "Lafitte is certainly not overjoyed at what has happened, but he may still be brought over to our side. And God knows we need him! He has men and more importantly a warehouse of flints and ammunition."
Christopher had debated telling Jason that, but feeling he would betray nothing that could be used against Jean, he felt relatively safe in mentioning the men and arms. It might even help, if Savage was willing to listen to the plan beginning to take shape in his head.
Tentatively he inquired, "Could you find out if the governor is still unwilling to negotiate with Lafitte? It's possible we may yet be able to turn this to our advantage."
The emerald eyes alert, Jason regarded Christopher. "You have something in mind?"
"I do. But it depends on the governor." Then Christopher frowned. "Or," he said slowly, "Jackson."
Jason shook his head decisively. "Nothing there. Jackson already knows everything about the entire business, and he had dismissed Lafitte and his men as 'hellish banditti.' He thinks they should have been run out of the Gulf long ago and applauds what Patterson and Ross have accomplished. You'll not find him inclined to deal with Lafitte, I can tell you that! At least," Jason tacked on reflectively, "not at the moment. Perhaps when he sees how poorly equipped we are to beat back a concerted British attack, he will feel differently. That memorandum of yours will certainly help convince hi
m of how strong the effort to capture New Orleans will be. By the way, Claiborne sent it to him by special messenger immediately after we left yesterday. So now all we can do is wait and see what the general decides to do."
Christopher pulled a face. "That seems to be what I have been doing for months," he said disgustedly. "First in England and now it appears that is what I shall be doing here in New Orleans—wait and see. It should be my middle name."
Jason laughed. "I know exactly how you feel. It has been a trying time for us all. We know the British assault is coming; we know there is great activity by the British fleet in the Gulf; but when or even precisely where they may strike has everyone glancing nervously over their shoulders."
"At least now I hope everyone knows in which direction to look over their shoulders," Christopher commented tartly. Straightening from his relaxed position, he said, "Well, I won't keep you, and I apologize for acting so angry earlier. Since we won't have to discuss the Lafitte situation now, do you still desire my company at dinner Thursday?"
"Why not? I did not invite you only to discuss Lafitte, you know." A smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, and Jason added, "I am most anxious to hear of Nicole's conquest of England. Do tell me, did you leave her well established, with every eligible male in London at her feet?"
Christopher's easy manner vanished in a second; a certain wariness entered his bearing. Oh, Jesus, he thought angrily, why didn't I think of the all awkward questions that would be asked? There was no use lying about the situation—he had made no attempt to hide Nicole's presence in his house, and Jason was bound to find out about it, sooner or later.
His voice was void of any expression at all as he said slowly, "As a matter of fact, I didn't leave her behind. She is with me at Dauphine Street."