Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (39 page)

“Don’t make it a habit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have a seat.”

Thorn took the seat indicated.
 
The director did not waste time with introductions or trying to get him caught up on what they were discussing.
 
Thorn listened intently, trying to wade through the information being bandied about.
 
It sounded like Sir Graham was in the process of devising a weapon that would help them end this war with Bonaparte.
 
However, someone was trying to stop him, or force him to work for the French.
 
Either way, it was not good for England or Sir Graham.

“Wulfe, have you come any closer to determining who Glandingham’s connection is?”

“No, sir.
 
I fear whoever it is, is deeply connected to the Prince Regent.
 
Many of his cohorts have been making appearances at the
Lady Luck
recently.”

“Damn,” he said.
 
“Do they talk to Glandingham?”

“Sometimes, but not always.
 
Excuse me, Sir Graham, but what exactly are you working on?”

“If you had been on time to this meeting, you would know this,” Director McKenzie lashed out, his frustration at being unable to apprehend anyone coming out in other ways.

“You’re right, Director.”

“There are several things I am working on, young man,” Sir Graham interrupted, excited to discuss his inventions.
 
He went on outlining several possible weapons that could give them the upper hand in this war.
 
Thorn was so enthralled with what the older man was saying that he missed the soft tap on the door.
 
Only when his nose picked up a familiar scent did he warily turn around.
 
There stood Aimée, looking proud and determined.

“What in bloody hell is she doing here?” he demanded.

“Calm down,” the director instructed.

“I will not calm down.
 
Do you know who she is and what she is?” He asked, pushing out of his chair.
 
He pointed a finger at her without ever looking at her, missing her reaction to his words.
 
She looked as if he had slapped her before straightening her spine.

“I work for the War Office,” she said firmly.

“What did you just say?” Thorn turned to look at her, an incredulous look on his face.

“It is true,” Director McKenzie agreed.
 
“Recently it has been brought to my attention that female agents can be just as useful, if not more so, than men.
 
Therefore, when the time seemed appropriate, I approached Mademoiselle Beauchamp to aid us.”

“How long?” Wulfe demanded.

“Long enough,” she replied, staring into his eyes, refusing to look away.
 
“What does it matter to you any way?
 
You have your dear Rebekah.”

“Do
not
speak her name.”

“Why?
 
Do you fear I will sully it?”

“You do not know what I fear,” Thorn said, the words the reverend had spoken to him racing through his mind.
 
If they were true, this was Rebekah’s half-sister standing in front of him.
 
A half-sister that he had…

“Wulfe, did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“I don’t know where your damn mind is today, but you better get yourself together.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, as I was saying, Sir Graham must go into hiding.
 
His house has already been broken into, and he fears for the safety of his daughter.
 
Sir Graham, you realize that not even your daughter can know where we are taking you.”

“Yes.
 
But she can’t be left to believe I have been kidnapped or worse.”

“It would be best if she did.”

“She will never forgive me.”

“When all of this is over, you merely have to tell her the decision was taken out of your hands.
 
She will forgive you,” McKenzie said confidently, remembering the blonde that had continually quarreled with him about the government and war at Gertrude’s dinner party.

“When do I disappear?”

“The sooner the better.
 
On the way home would be ideal.”

“But I must tell Cassie good-bye.”

“You cannot.
 
She would become suspicious.
 
Best that it happen as spontaneously as possible.”
 
McKenzie looked at the two other men that had remained silent all this time.
 
“Gentlemen, you know what to do.”

“I will need my plans,” Sir Graham reminded the group.

“I will see that you get them,” Mack said, rising and shaking the older man’s hand.
 
“Trust me, Sir Graham, this is the best way.”

“It seems I have no choice.”
 
The man tightened his grip imperceptibly on Mack’s hand, surprising the younger.
 
“Should anything happen to my daughter, I will hold you personally responsible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sir Graham looked at the other two men who stood when he did, “Gentlemen, I believe I will take a stroll through Hyde Park to clear my mind of the cobwebs.”
 
Together the three men left the conference room.

“Enough of this,” Mack said.
 
“The both of you sit.
 
Now,” he directed Thorn and Aimée.
 
They did as he said, sitting on opposite sides of the table, glaring at one another.
 
“Aimée, have you any news on Glandingham?”

“Some,” she said, turning to face her director.
 
“He is involved and knows all the major players.
 
That is why he wanted to go in as partners with Thorn.
 
He needed a place for the meetings to occur that would not look conspicuous.”

“How did you find this out?”

“Men say things around their women that they will not say around others.
 
Especially if they believe the woman to be stupid and naïve,” she added bitterly.

“Who all is involved in this plot?” Mack directed the question to Aimée, attempting to get her to focus on the situation at hand.
 
She listed a handful of Britain’s top title holders.
 
McKenzie quickly scribbled the names that she said.
 
He looked at the list and then shared a look with Wulfe.
 
“Aimée, are you certain these men are involved in the plot?”

“Yes.”

“You are accusing heirs to the throne,” Director McKenzie said.

“It has happened before, has it not?” the woman queried.
 
“Throughout history, we have seen where greed has driven people to want what they cannot obtain other than through ill-gotten means.”

“You are correct,” Mack said.
 
“Wulfe, you have to infiltrate this group.
 
They need to pull you into their confidence.”

“How?
 
I have spent the last few years doing everything I can to earn their trust.
 
What can I offer them now that I could not offer them before?
 
Besides, I doubt that Walsh will have anything to do with me after I told him to stay away from my wife,” Thorn supplied.
 
He had cajoled, and done everything else he knew to do to earn their trust, but he had merely been used by the group.
 
He was no closer than he was two years ago when he pulled the trigger in that dark alley.
 
Had it all been for naught?

“Sir Graham.”

Wulfe’s head snapped up as he stared at McKenzie’s unrelenting face.

“But sir,” Aimée began, “you promised him.”

“We are in a war.
 
Promises mean nothing,” he said, standing and knocking his chair backwards.
 
He gathered up the papers at his end of the table.
 
“We meet in a week, and try to remember, the two of you are on the same side of this war.”
 

Chapter 21

“Are we?”
 
Thorn waited to ask the question until after Director McKenzie had left the room.

“Are we what?”
 
Just a touch of a French accent she had inherited from her mother carried over in her speech.

“On the same side?”

“Of course we are.”

“I swear, if you are working for the French as well, I will see you hung from the gallows.”

“Is that any way to talk to your sister-in-law?” she asked sweetly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sputtered.
 

“You know very well what I am talking about.”

“How long have you known?”

“All my life.
 
I was the dirty little secret, remember?
 
My mother felt no need to hide the information from me.”

“She knows you were my mistress.”

“Which sister…”

“Stop.
 
Right.
 
There.
 
We are not going to have this conversation, not now, not ever.
 
Whatever was between us is in the past, and that is where it will stay.
 
What we need to decide on now is how we are going to handle Glandingham.
 
What are we going to do to entice him and the others?”

“I have my instructions,” she shrugged.
 
“You, Lord Wulfe, are on your own.
 
Good luck,” Aimée called over her shoulder as she left the room.
 

Wulfe stood and left as well, but instead of following her, he turned towards McKenzie’s office.
 
He did not knock, but instead burst inside.
 
“I want to know what kind of game you’re playing,” Thorn demanded.

“Shut the door,” Mack said softly, but with complete authority in his voice.
 
“Have a seat.”

“I would prefer to stand,” Thorn said, pacing back and forth.

“Now, perhaps we could start this in a more reasonable tone,” Mack’s brogue hid the menacing undertone.

“Reasonable?
 
You are the one that employed a courtesan to be a spy.
 
One that is half French, if you seemed to miss that.”

“I missed nothing.
 
Including the fact that she is the half-sister of your wife.”

“How do you know?”

“I have my ways.
 
Remember, I know everything about all of my agents, including if they are working for more than one entity.”

“Is she?”

“She is.”

“Dammit,” Thorn tunneled his fingers through his hair.
 
“We cannot trust her.”

“No.”

“Then why bring her in?
 
How long has she been working for you?
 
What good is she to us?”

“None of these are questions I intend to answer at this time.”

“You are just a bloody puppet master, sitting behind his desk, pulling strings and watching the outcome.
 
You don’t give a damn who gets hurt in the process, do you?
 
All you want is Bonaparte gone, and you relishing in the credit so that you can go on to bigger and better things.
 
What do you have your sights set on,
Director
McKenzie, prime minister?
 
They’ll never let a Highland bastard into that position,” Thorn informed him, meeting Mack’s glacial gaze.

“I am not the one that tupped one sister and married the other.
 
I expect a report in a week and I want more progress than what you have currently shown.
 
Remember, if I need to encourage you to work harder and faster, I have my ways.”

“Stay away from my family, you bastard,” Thorn growled.

“Do your job, and you will have nothing to worry about.
 
You are dismissed,” Mack turned back towards the papers he had spread out on his desk.
 

Wulfe turned and left, slamming the door so hard that it rattled within its frame.
 
He looked down and saw that his hands were shaking.
 
He had to do something before he went to the
Lady Luck
.
 
After making his way downstairs, he mounted his horse and turned him towards Bond Street and Gentleman Jackson’s.
 
Thorn found himself praying that someone would be there, because if not, he feared he might go back and attack Mack.
 
He did not care how good a friend the man had been with his brother.
 
No one threatened his family.

 
***

Thorn walked into his gaming hell a few hours later.
 
He let his eyes become accustomed to the dimness before he began moving around the room greeting customers.
 
He kissed women’s hands, finding that he looked closely to see if his wife was among them once more.
 
When he would determine that one woman was not Rebekah, he found himself both relieved and disappointed at the same time, then he would move on to the next.