A Conspiracy of Paper (32 page)

“How is it,” I asked, “that so many men point me in the direction of the South Sea Company but can then tell me no more?”

Wild looked at me with something like surprise. “I cannot speak for other men.”

“What is your affiliation with Perceval Bloathwait?” I demanded.

“Bloathwait?” I had either genuinely surprised him or he was a superb actor. “The Bank of England director? What dealings should I have with him?”

“That is precisely what I wish to determine.”

“None. I suspect I never shall, unless he should find his pocket picked one day or the other.”

“Then tell me how you know these things about the Company,” I said.

“Men are undone in whispers, you know. A prig tells me a piece, a whore tells me another piece. I put all these pieces together. Sometimes I can ask no more than I am told.”

I thought hard on what else I might ask. I could not begin to guess at Wild’s motives, but if he wished to aid me, for the nonce I would take his information. “What do you know of a man named Noah Sarmento?” I asked. Wild might deny dealings with Bloathwait, but if my uncle’s clerk was a villain of some description, then Wild might know of him.

His face was a blank. “I cannot say I know of him.”

“Very well. You had your men beat me and drag me here in order to give me your friendly encouragement. Do I understand that correctly, Mr. Wild?”

“Really, Weaver, I have apologized about that. I have told you all I know of Rochester and the South Sea involvement. You must do some of this work yourself.”

“Then I shall get to it.” I began to rise. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Wild,” I said sourly, as I attempted to steady myself. I did not wish to give Wild the satisfaction of seeing me in any way incapacitated. “I cannot say how much faith I can place in your promise, but I can assure you that this meeting has been illuminating for me.”

“I am delighted to hear that. You know, Mr. Weaver, my offer still stands—if you wish to find employment with me, there is always room for a man of your stripe.”

“Your offer is as tempting to me today as the day you first made it, sir.”

“Ah, then. One more thing I wish to bring up. It’s about this Kate Cole matter. I could not but detect some squeamishness on your part when I mentioned her hanging day. I suppose you are one of those unfortunates crippled with sentiment—such a nasty condition. It occurs to me that if the idea of her hanging distresses you, I might choose to spare her the rope.”

“And in exchange?” I asked.

“In exchange,” he said, “you will owe me a favor. One of my choice, that I may call upon when I choose.”

I believed that he could arrange to spare her life. A man like Wild would have precisely the influence to abort the trial, just as he would have the power to see her hang should he choose to do so. Yet I wondered what price he would extract for clearing my conscience. What would it mean to be in Wild’s debt—to have no say in how that debt might be paid? I thought about this offer in terms of probability, in terms of risk and reward, in terms of Wild’s efforts to speculate on lives as though he jobbed people themselves upon some felonious exchange. In the end, and it is a decision I have come to regret in many ways, I placed my fear of Wild’s power over my concern for Kate’s life. I said nothing and watched the images of a hanged Kate play themselves out before my mind’s eye and told myself that, should Kate’s life end in this way, I could endure the guilt.

I chose not to honor Wild with a response to his offer, so he continued speaking. “Very well, then. Shall I have Mr. Mendes return you to your lodgings?”

I glanced at my old acquaintance, who had hardly moved since his arrival in the room. “Yes,” I said, making sure to betray nothing of my feelings. “I think I’d like that.”

·    ·    ·

M
ENDES AND
I
SAT
in the coach in silence for a few moments. Finally he turned to me. “You will understand if I do not return your arms until we reach your home.”

“If I wished to harm you, Mr. Mendes, I would not require weaponry. Tell me,” I said, changing my tone dramatically, “do you enjoy working for Wild, being treated like his mameluke?”

Mendes laughed. “My employment with Mr. Wild has served me well.”

I thought on this for a moment, attempting to concentrate, though the jarring movements of the hackney aggravated my too-recent wounds. “Come now, Mendes. Let us be honest with each other. It may well be that Wild is an easy master, but he is a master all the same. No matter the trust he may put in you, you must remain for him always a Hebrew, and nothing more.”

“I hardly know what you mean,” Mendes said. “For Wild, any man is but the sum of what he does. I am no different. While I serve him well, he treats me well.”

“We, however, are of the same neighborhood,” I continued. “I ask you now to think of that commonality and tell me the truth of these matters.”

“The truth?” Mendes stared.

“Yes. I know you and I have never been great friends, but we have a common bond. You continue to associate yourself with the Jews of Dukes Place—more than I do. You attend services at the synagogue, and I admire your desire to maintain a connection with our people. Can you not look at that commonality and find it within you to be honest with me?”

“Perhaps it is you who should be honest with me, sir. What is it that motivates you?”

“Me? Why, I wish to find the man who killed my father. No difficult motivation, that.”

“Except you never cared a fig for your father while he was alive. I, however, saw him quite regularly about the neighborhood, while you feared to set foot within our quarter.”

I could hardly answer these charges, which I knew were only too just. I told myself that his words meant nothing, that Mendes knew nothing of how my father treated me, that a man of his spirit could have taken it no more than I. But I could not quite believe my own thoughts, perhaps because when I left, I left not out of anger or indignation or the justice of my cause—I left with my father’s stolen money in my pocket.

We rode in silence until the hackney now stumbled to a halt. “We are arrived, Mr. Weaver.” He handed me my daggers, hangar, and pistol, and wished that I might use them in the best of health. “I hope you meet great success in your inquiry,” Mendes said as I stepped out of the hackney. “Mr. Wild does as well. That may be difficult for you to believe just now, but I promise you it is so.”

My legs shook a bit as I touched the cobbled street, and the daylight in my eyes, after the dark of the hackney, made me feel like a drunkard just roused from last night’s stupor. As I limped toward Mrs. Garrison’s front door I thought of all the information I had obtained that day, and wondered why I felt no closer to knowing anything at all.

TWENTY-THREE

I
FOUND
W
ILD
’
S MANEUVERINGS
rough and barbaric, but for all his clumsiness, I could not see his game. There was no shortage of men pushing me toward the South Sea Company, and to suspect that they all conspired in this together was to say that my uncle was part of this conspiracy. That possibility filled me with dread, but in light of the information I had obtained, it was one I could not entirely dismiss. Why had my uncle wished to keep me clear of Bloathwait, whose involvement in these matters grew evident? Did Sarmento deal with Bloathwait with or without my uncle’s knowledge? And why did my uncle maintain a friendship with Adelman, a man so important to the South Sea Company, if it appeared that the Company’s hand in my father’s death was undeniable?

For the nonce, no question plagued me more than Wild’s interest. I could not imagine how a dandified pickpocket like Wild stood to gain from exposing the Company. Despite his claims about the importance of punishing murder, my success in these matters would perhaps be the greatest threat to Wild’s concerns, for many a man in London, as Sir Owen had shown by example, would pay more to have an honest man return his goods than pay a more moderate fee to the thief that took them in the first place. I could only conclude two probable explanations for Wild’s behavior: either he aimed somehow, through all his maneuverings, to remove me from his way; or, for reasons I could not yet guess, the South Sea Company was so dangerous to him that he would risk my injuring him in the future in order to expose the Company now. I could not even speculate on what the Company could have to do with an oily fiend like Wild, but if he did fear the South Sea, why did he not give me more information with which to do the Company harm?

Quite exhausted and hurting from the blows I’d taken of Wild’s men, I entered Mrs. Garrison’s house, now prepared at last to sleep. I could not say with any truthfulness that the pain had subsided much; if anything, it ached more acutely, though the sting of it had passed. I believed that I could tell from past experience when an injury was serious or no, and while I knew I should be in discomfort for some days ahead, I did not believe myself in any danger. I would think through these matters properly once I had rested, but rest was not to prove so easy to obtain. Mrs. Garrison awaited me in the hall, her hands red from her incessant wringing.

“Mr. Weaver, sir, are you unharmed?” She appeared something like concerned, even, I would venture, glad to see me, but I knew too well the meaning of her clucking her tongue. I had heard it many a time and often when my rent was past due.

“Yes, Mrs. Garrison,” I said with a soft voice, doing my best to put her at ease. She would not soon forget the horror of having those villainous men in her home. “There was no cause for alarm. These were some foolish men, but utterly harmless.”

“I am glad you are well,” she said. “I thought they had hurt you quite grievously.” There was a pause.

“You wish to add something, madam?”

“Mr. Weaver, I cannot have ruffians coming into my home. This is a respectable house I run, sir. I have looked the other way, with your being a Hebrew and such, sir. Many’s the folk who would not do so,” she added hastily. “But I can’t have these ruffians, armed with swords and guns and the Lord only knows what manner of weapons, come into my house and threaten me and frighten me and the servants, sir.”

“I quite understand, Mrs. Garrison,” I said soothingly. “It shan’t happen again. It was all an unfortunate misunderstanding that could have happened to any gentleman.”

“Any gentleman?” she asked. “Begging your pardon, sir, I am afraid I misbelieve you.” She paused. “Mr. Weaver, I must ask you to leave. I must. I cannot have such men in here to frighten me like to death and to do what mischief I know not to me and to my tenants. I’ll need you gone before sundown, Mr. Weaver.”

“Before sundown?” I almost shouted. “I quite understand your concern, Mrs. Garrison, and I do not resent it, but before sundown is hardly reasonable. I shall not have time to search for other lodgings. I might remind you that I am paid through the end of the quarter.”

“I’ll return your money. You needn’t worry on that score. But I must insist upon your departure, sir.” She stood there, continuing to wring her hands. I suppose I could have either charmed or frightened her into changing her mind, but I could not deny that my adventures had placed her in jeopardy. I had no great love for my landlady, but I should have been enraged had she been harmed by any enemy of mine. What she asked of me was an inconvenience, not an impossibility, and the right thing to do would be to comply.

“Very well, madam,” I said. “I shall not cause you further grief.”

She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Weaver. I
am
sorry to have to do this.”

I thought this might be the beginning of a protracted apology, and I held up my hand. “Enough, Mrs. Garrison. I quite understand. You must do justice to yourself.”

“Thank you, sir. Oh, and Mr. Weaver, sir, I think I should only tell you that there is another gentleman waiting for you upstairs. I told him I didn’t know if you wanted anyone up there and that there was no knowing when you was to be back, but he took me no mind and—”

Without another word I turned and ran upstairs as best I could, reaching, as I moved, for the pistol I had only recently replaced into my coat pocket. There was no way of knowing who it could be. Perhaps Wild’s deception had not yet run its full course. Perhaps now I was to contend with the South Sea Company or even an agent of Bloathwait’s. I stood outside my door for a moment, my pistol held high, and with a fluid movement, I pushed the door open and stepped forward boldly, aiming my firearm at the figure who sat facing me.

“You’ve had a lively day, then?” Elias said calmly. “The old bird’s been having seizures. I mollified her a bit by taking some of her blood. Shall I send a bill to Mr. Balfour?” Elias paused. “You can put that pistol down, you know.”

I did as he suggested and threw myself into my armchair. “There’s no condition unbettered by the loss of blood,” I mumbled. “It’s a wonder men who have their limbs lopped off don’t stand healthier than we who still have all ours attached.”

“You laugh,” Elias said cheerfully, “but were I to bleed you now, you’d soon discover a vast improvement in your disposition. Shall you tell me what happened? You look dreadful.”

I briefly recounted my adventure with Wild, trying not to omit any detail that might be of value. Elias’s jaw hung open as he listened. “This is an impenetrable turn. Why should Wild wish to set you against the South Sea Company? What could a trading company be to a man like Wild?”

I shook my head, suddenly quite thirsty. I wished that I kept something such as drinking water around my rooms, but that was a luxury I rarely indulged in. “I don’t know.” I sighed such that my ribs ached. “He mentioned counterfeiting, but if Wild were involved in a scheme to falsify stock, why would he point me to the Company? My inquiry would only risk exposing the scheme.”

Elias nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe he wishes to put you off the Company?”

I could not follow his thinking, and my eyes became unfocused.

“Wild is devious,” Elias continued. “What if he tells you to look to the Company because he knows you mistrust him? Perhaps he claims the Company as his enemy precisely because it is his ally.”

I closed my eyes. “It is a strange business, but I cannot believe that even if the Company were ruthless enough to involve itself in the murder of two prominent businessmen, it would be so reckless as to risk dealings with Wild. These men may be villains, but they are not fools.”

“I have known several and found them as subject to buffoonery as men in any profession.”

“If Wild were connected with the Company, why should he expose himself now? Why should he involve me? Surely it is a risk to call upon me. I cannot see what he or the South Sea Company or Bloathwait or anyone else has to gain by handing me these minute pieces of information and asking me to proceed from them. If anything, such actions suggest that they do not work together—that each individual who provides me with information accounts at least one of the others as his enemy. I cannot claim to understand it all, Elias, but if this is an inquiry of probability rather than fact, I believe it likely that whoever killed my father and Balfour has other enemies, and that all of those enemies are attempting to use this inquiry to serve their own aims.”

“Perhaps these men were part of a cabal that has broken down. Perhaps the different elements have gone off in their own direction to manage their own affairs as they see best. I cannot say. What did you learn from your visit at the South Sea House?”

I told Elias about my encounter with the clerk, Cowper. “Until I hear what he has learned, I do not know that we can advance on that front. I wonder if it is not time for me to pay a visit to Mr. Balfour. After all, he is my employer. I ought to keep him informed.”

“Selectively, I should think,” Elias said.

“Oh, I quite agree. No one is above suspicion, Elias, and Balfour is a strange fish indeed. Perhaps if I apply a bit of pressure we shall see a crack in his edifice.”

“Splendid.”

“In the meantime, I have more immediate concerns, such as where I shall sleep tonight. Mrs. Garrison has sent me packing over the small matter of Wild’s ruffians forcing their way into her parlor.”

“That’s a nasty bit of news, isn’t it? Where shall you go?”

“Perhaps I’ll impose on my uncle for a while—until I have the time to search for a place. He has shown himself in favor of families helping one another out.” I said nothing to Elias about the uneasiness I had about my uncle. I can hardly explain why I found the very idea of villainy within my own family most embarrassing, but if my uncle had been less than forthright with me, what better way to uncover his deception than by moving in with him?

Elias then inspected the wounds inflicted by Wild’s soldiers, all the while indicating that my recovery would be speeded by the removal of a small quantity of my blood, but I would not have it. When he had finished his ministrations, I screwed up my resolve to face my pain and set off in search of my uncle. I found him at his warehouse, reviewing some ledgers in his closet, and I approached him with trepidation as I made my request, fearing that he would suspect me of taking advantage of his good nature. Such was not the case.

“You will have Aaron’s room,” he said after a moment of consideration. He then looked down at his ledgers, suggesting our business was complete.

“Thank you, Uncle,” I said after a moment.

He raised his eyes from his book. “I shall see you tonight, then.”

So, having had my favor granted in the style of a punishment meted out, I returned to Mrs. Garrison’s to put my effects in order, collect those things I could not wait upon her servant sending, and make my way out of her house.

This final departure took far longer than I had anticipated, and its taste was more bitter than I could have imagined. I suppose I had been foolish for not taking better care of it, for not locking it within a strongbox, or hiding it, or disguising its nature. Simply sliding it within a pile of papers on my writing desk had seemed sufficient, but I was proved wrong indeed. It was, therefore, with a kind of ignominious shame that I went forth to the generosity of my uncle’s lodgings to inform him that my father’s pamphlet, perhaps the most convincing evidence that his death had been orchestrated by the powers of ’Change Alley, had disappeared from my possession.