phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware (55 page)

“I own a prosperous shipping company that I am prepared to wager,” I said, though not entirely truthful. I made it sound as if I owned a fleet of ships instead of just the one.

“Where is your shipping company?” one of Albany’s friends asked.

From the greed in Albany’s eyes, I knew that I already had him hooked, but I answered anyway.

“Charleston.”

There were many shipping companies that operated out of Charleston so I knew that they would never consider that I did not own one of the larger import export businesses.

“Consider what you are about, Albany,” said his friend.

Albany pushed the man out of his way as he sat in his chair and produced a dice box from his pocket.

He rolled first, rolling an eight.

As he had been rolling, I had taken the dice out of the box in my pocket. It had been for just such an occurrence that I had picked up the dice box. I knew that it was not loaded, having played with it earlier. When men brought their own boxes to games, it was often that they had rigged the cards or dice in their own favor.

“Your role, lad,” Albany said to me as he pushed his box toward me.

Snatching it from the table, I lost my hold on the box and dropped it to the floor.

Albany and the others laughed, speaking about the likelihood of my being foxed. My hand switched out the dice as I was bent to pick up the box. Rubbing my finger along the edges, I felt where they had been shaved, guaranteeing that they landed on a certain side. I pocketed Albany’s dice as I sat up.

“Forgive me,” I said, with a bit of a slur.

Albany’s eyes sparkled with the glaze from the wine he had consumed.

Switching the dice had been my only option. If I had questioned the dice, it would be paramount to calling the man a liar and a cheat, something that was unacceptable. Taking matters into my own hands was the only way to ensure a fair roll.

Shaking the box, and hoping that Nell did not hate me if I were to lose our ship, I released the dice.

Ten.

Albany’s smile faded as he stared down at the table, and then he was on his feet, kicking his chair out from behind him.

“Cheat!” he shouted.

Mr. Lamb, the owner of the house, came forward with two other gentlemen to inspect the dice. When they found them sound, they told Albany that he owed me an apology. Albany’s murderous face said that I would never receive such an apology. He knew that he had been beaten. He could never confess to having used loaded dice, nor could he explain how I had bested him at his own game. He turned to leave, but I halted him.

“My deed, sir.”

Albany looked down at the paper he was crushing in his hand, and then he threw it at me.

“Thank you, sir. I shall expect to take possession within a fortnight.”

Albany stormed out of the room, and I poured myself out a glass of wine, pleased with the night’s work.

CHAPTER 15

George and I traveled to Virginia after James had returned from Britain. We were not to meet at James’s house but at the house of the man George had found to be our fourth founder.

The house was a brown two-story, and well kept. As we entered the house, I found it to be decorated with taste and with comfort in mind. When we were let into a library, the man had more books than I had seen since living in Lutania.

All four walls held bookcases, and there were piles of books stacked along the floor as if set aside after reading. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, two sofas placed upon a burgundy rug, and a wooden desk near the set of windows. Seated upon the window seat was a man who gave me pause. He was reading from a Bible.

As he looked up, he smiled, and George went forth to greet him. He appeared as a scholar, but when George introduced him as Revered Gideon Reid, I wondered what George could have been thinking. A Reverend?

“George did not tell you, I see,” Gideon said to me as he motioned for me to be seated upon one of the sofas.

“I leave that pleasure to you, Gideon,” George said as he inspected one of the stacks of books on the table beside his seat.

“George’s father and I served together during the Revolution,” Gideon said simply.

What Gideon was not saying was that he had served as a spy.

“Are you not a man of the cloth?” I questioned.

“I am a man of faith, yes. A faith that was my only strength after returning home to find my home burned and my wife and child murdered.”

Having experience death, I could sympathize with him, though I was not certain that a reverend was the one to entrust with our mission.

It was not until after James Monroe arrived and greeted both George and Gideon as friends that I came to view Gideon as more than a man who spouted tiresome sermons from a pulpit. A man who condemned one and all to a life of fire and brimstone if one did not convert to his way of life.

When Gideon asked, “What makes you believe that you can lead an organization made for the protection of this country when you worked and fought for those who oppose us?” my respect for him formed.

James looked as if he agreed wholeheartedly with Gideon’s question.

“The truth, gentlemen, is that before I came to America I was searching for a place where I could belong. Where my family could belong. In Britain, I became a spy, trying to gain a position where my family could be seen as worthy, but that country is about birth. I was not born of nobility and so achieving nobility was an impossibility. Then I came to America, and I was accepted, not for my birth or how much money I had, but for the man that I was.

“My family has come to love this country and to look upon it as our own. We may not have been born to this country, but that is what I so love about America. One does not need to be born here to find a place to belong.”

Gideon smiled as James heartily agreed. George’s smile never left his face as I spoke.

“Now, when my family has finally found some safety, we are faced with a giant that threatens to destroy all that we have gained. War is coming, gentlemen, and it is to protect my family, and the families of the unsuspecting, that I propose the founding of this organization. To protect the good on which this nation was founded.”

Gideon leaned toward George and spoke in a mock whisper. “I see what you mean about his ability to lead. Well spoke are you, William Martin.”

“I thank you, Reverend Reid.”

“Call me Gideon, for I believe that you and I will be friends yet.”

Reaching forward, I shook the hand that Gideon held out to me.

“Words are all well and good, Gideon, but what is to be done about the threat of war, which, you may be sure is imminent,” James said.

“You must listen to William’s plan, for it is brilliant,” George assured him.

“Yes, so you have said.” James turned his blue gaze upon me. “Turning children into spies. I will not sacrifice the innocence of the young for the greed of men.”

“What about when their innocence is threatened by the men who swore to protect them? My adopted son, for example, was beaten for the first four years of his life by a grandfather possessed by the drink. So many other children I have seen since coming to this country have been battered and bruised by those who should protect them. What I offer is a way for them to learn to protect themselves.”

“You offer them death should they be captured,” James replied.

“I offer them a family, which all of the children that I propose to teach are without. Their team will become their family. They will learn how to survive, how to thrive, and how to succeed in every area of their life. They will be taught to read and write, which is more than most children can expect, and they will be trained for an occupation, so that when the day comes that they wish to leave service to the country they may find gainful employment.”

As I finished, I could see that I had made all three men consider what I was saying.

“They will be taught how to assess risks, and, should a task feel too dangerous, they will never be expected to work alone. Their brothers and sisters will work beside them,” George added, promising things that I had never agreed to, but should consider.

There would be times when missions called for certain skills that one possessed over the others, but it would be a rule that their team was always close at hand should they meet with any difficulties.

“Forgive me, William, George, but you are asking us to believe that somewhere in this great country there exists children who possess the abilities that few grown men have achieved. There was a reason that so few were chosen to be spies for General Washington. Too many would draw attention,” James said.

Denying the urge to glance at James, I focused upon James, for I knew that he was the one who I needed to convince.

“They do exist. Three of them have been trained since they could walk, and already show signs of great ability and presence of mind.”

“Your children?” James asked.

Inclining my head, he leaned back against his seat.

“You would risk your own children?” Gideon put to me.

“I would never ask of them something that I would not do myself,” I assured them, which was little consolation considering that I was a grown man who had spent years in service.

George laid before them our plan to expand the teams should they prove themselves capable. When James asked me how I would know that they were capable, I agreed to begin sending them on some small missions to see how they handled themselves. If at any time they proved incapable, I would remove them from service. I would never force anyone to do a job for which they were ill-suited.

George told them that he was to be the financial backer, and what we wanted from them. James would offer them political support should he ever find himself in a position to do so, and Gideon would assist in training any children that I sent to him. He would lead a group when I found the ones best suited to his location.

Gideon agreed after we agreed that whoever he taught could choose a different way of life if they desired. He did not want young children, but young men aged thirteen through eighteen. Young men that he could instruct in the ways of faith.

James agreed to offer his support upon a trial basis. He wanted to see the children during training, as well as upon a mission. He agreed to give me a year to prepare the children. He also did not want any children to be trained under the age of thirteen. After some negotiation, we brought the age down to eight. I assured him that children that young could hear all manner of information without ever being noticed. He was adamant that they not be sent into too dangerous situations and I agreed. Until war came among us, all they would be doing was training.

When George and I took our leave, Pierre was waiting for us, having traveled with me to Virginia.

After telling him about the success of the meeting, he was silent for some time, considering what was ahead of us. He had agreed to assist me in the training, once I found the perfect children.

“What is in your mind, Pierre?” I finally asked him when we had parted ways with George and were on our way home to the farm.

“A name,” he said.

“What do you suggest?”

Pierre smiled at me as if I was a simpleton. “Fantoms.”

Phantoms. Serving the Phantom Knight. It had a certain mystery to it. A name to be spoken in secret. People there but never seen.

Agreeing to the name, Pierre and I set out upon a mission that would test the boundaries of what had been done. Finding children to train to become spies.

CHAPTER 16

August 1808

Having spent over a year training the children, my family, which had grown by four over the past year, was preparing to move to my plantation in Savannah.

It had not taken me as long as I had thought to locate the perfect children for the job which I had created. The first one that I found was Mariah, and she had come to live with us only a month after I returned to the farm and told my children that they were to become spies.

I had left my family again, to go in search of the perfect children when I came upon Mariah.

Walking from my Inn to the harbor where the
Lutania
was waiting, I found myself walking past a brothel where a man was trying to sell a girl who could be no older than my son Jack, in exchange for favors from the brothel owner.

That fate for a child I could not allow. Intervening, he accepted the money that I offered and disappeared into the brothel, no doubt to spend it. Once I got a good look at the child, I could see why he thought that he could gain a price for her. She was beautiful. Black hair and the purest blue eyes. She reminded me of my Nell. She looked up at me with a little fear, but she never backed away from me.

Looking about me, I remembered a shop a few roads away that sold sweets and pastries. Requesting her to come along, she followed me without question. When I held open the door to the shop, she swayed as the sweet smell washed over her. It was then that I noticed how thin she was.

With my hand gently pressed against her back, I guided her into the shop and told her to choose whatever she wished. She would not choose anything at first, so I ordered a sweet bread. When I looked down at her expectantly, she ordered a raisin bread, a honey bun, a loaf of bread, and a fruitcake.

She blushed as she met my amused gaze. “You said that I could order anything,” she told me earnestly, and with a hint of authority.

“So I did.”

Once our goods were wrapped and paid for, we left the shop. I was startled when she began walking down the street away from me. I watched her until she reached the end, thinking that she meant to run from me. If she did, I would allow her to go.

At the end of the street, she turned to face me. “Are you coming, or do you mean to become a statue?”

A bark of laughter escaped me, but I followed her. She led me down a few more streets, to a poverty stricken area of the town. There was an alley where children played in the puddles that I was certain was not water. Women hung their wash out the windows of the hovels, and the smell nearly knocked me over.