Frowns now ringed the circle; the announcement had brought everyone back to earth.
Suddenly, one of the guards in the tower called down to those on the barracks’ porch; exactly what was said wasn’t clear. In the porch’s shadows, the two mercenaries stirred, then stepped down to the compound’s forecourt and loped toward the gate. On reaching the now-barred gates, the guards spoke—presumably to whoever was on the other side—then, satisfied by whatever response they’d received, the guards unbarred the gates and swung them open.
Four of their fellows tramped through.
Hillsythe leaned toward Caleb. “That’s Cripps—Dubois’s second lieutenant—in the lead. Dubois sent him to see what was going on with Kale.”
His gaze on the burly mercenary, Caleb nodded.
The guards on the gates shut and barred them again, then fell in behind Cripps and his party.
The captives watched without comment until the small troop followed Cripps into the barracks, and the guards resumed their positions on the porch. Caleb noticed the flare of a lamp being lit in the window along the side of the mercenaries’ hut; from what he’d gathered from Katherine, the lamp sat on Dubois’s desk.
Gradually, all the captives turned back to the fire pit, to the small fire that was dying to red embers within the central hearth. From the looks on most faces, everyone was retreading their earlier conversation about the need for a diversion—something Cripps and his men’s arrival had underscored.
Eventually, Hopkins caught Caleb’s eye. “We’ve a month to come up with something effective before any rescue force can reach us.”
Caleb inclined his head. “True.” He allowed his voice to take on a steely note. “But we need to have our diversion worked out and everything in place before they do.”
* * *
Dubois had been leaning against his desk in relative darkness, the better to observe the captives about the fire pit. Not that he’d seen anything to alert him; he’d expected the young captain to be the center of attention. No doubt the young man was responding to questions and describing the world beyond the jungle. Dubois would have preferred that the newcomers not reawaken thoughts of life before the compound in the minds of those already there. However, he considered that inevitable, and he felt more than confident enough of his hold on his captives—his hold over his captives—to shrug the point aside.
Especially when the young captain had brought a crew of sixteen hale and hearty men with him.
Smiling at the thought of Fate’s beneficence, as Cripps had entered the building, Dubois had quit the window and the view and moved to light the lamp on his desk.
He’d wanted light by which to read Cripps’s face, to glean everything he could about Kale’s odd behavior. Sinking into the chair behind the desk, he fixed his gaze on Cripps as his lieutenant drew himself up in an approximation of attention. “What did you find?”
Arsene came ambling up to halt to one side of the desk; he, too, fixed his gaze on Cripps.
Cripps returned Dubois’s regard, but deferentially. “As near as we could make out, Kale and his men have done a bunk. They’ve disappeared.”
Dubois limited his frown to his eyes. “Define ‘disappeared.’”
“There was nothing at their camp. The place looked like they’d tidied up and cleared off. No sign anyone’s been there for days—perhaps not for a week.”
Dubois exchanged a glance with Arsene, then looked back at Cripps. “Had they left in a rush?”
Cripps shook his head. “Didn’t look like it. All nice and neat.”
“No sign of any fight?” Arsene asked.
“No.” Cripps paused, then said, “It looked to us all as if Kale and company had packed their bags and walked off. Back to the settlement, most like.”
Dubois tapped his finger on the desk. “Why would Kale up and leave? What would induce a man like him to walk away from steady employment?”
“More money,” Arsene promptly replied.
Cripps nodded. “That was my thought, too.”
Arsene sniffed. “Kale always was an unreliable bastard, and his men, especially those in the settlement, had been growing restless because those calling the shots had given them so little to do in recent weeks. So few people to seize.”
Dubois nodded. “Kale was being paid by the person, delivered to us here, so I can sympathize with his predicament.”
Arsene shrugged. “So someone made him a better offer—”
“Or he learned of some action where he and his men could make more.” Cripps gestured in a what-can-you-expect fashion. “So off he’s gorn.”
Slowly, Dubois nodded. “I agree that’s the most likely scenario.” But was it the right one? Instinct skittered, not exactly pricking but uneasy; what were the odds of Kale disappearing and the young captain and his crew turning up outside the walls within a week?
Dubois quashed the impulse to turn and stare out of the window at the group still no doubt gathered about the fire pit. It had to be coincidence. Kale wouldn’t have been driven off by the captain and his crew; indeed, if Kale had found them lurking in the jungle, Kale would have captured them and brought them to the mine.
The young captain’s reactions were far too slow for him—or any of his men, who presumably would be no better than he—to have faced Kale and won. Even Dubois had a healthy respect for the slaver’s skill with a sword.
No—there were no grounds on which to make any connection between the sailors’ arrival and Kale vanishing. The latter would have been Kale’s decision.
Dubois focused on what came next. “With Kale gone...” He narrowed his eyes. “As we’ve managed to secure enough men to meet our needs without Kale’s help, we no longer need his particular expertise. The only additional difficulty his disappearance leaves us facing is the collection and delivery of our mining supplies.”
Dubois looked at Arsene, then at Cripps. Then he leaned back in his chair. “We’re not going to wait to see if Kale returns. As far as I’m concerned, he’s dealt himself out of this scheme, and we’ll proceed on the assumption he won’t be back. But now that we have our extra men and Dixon is ready to open up the second tunnel, we need more picks, shovels, and a lot more nails, and whatever else Dixon has on his list.” He paused, then went on, “The last I heard from those in the settlement, they were pressing hard for us to increase production to appease their backers. I gather there was a degree of urgency involved.”
He smiled coldly. “Given that urgency, when we tell them what they need to do—the equipment they must provide and the extra money they’ll need to pay—no doubt they’ll swiftly oblige.” He looked at Arsene. “Take four men and go into the settlement by our usual route. There’s no point using the route via Kale’s camp—it’s longer, and we don’t need to waste the extra hours.”
Arsene came to attention. “And once in the settlement?”
Eyes narrowing, Dubois debated, then said, “As we discussed, contact Winton at the fort, but only if you can do so discreetly. If you can’t reach him, then speak with Muldoon—you know where to find him. Whoever you speak with, get them to arrange to have the supplies Dixon’s requested—” Dubois broke off and flipped through a stack of papers. He withdrew one, glanced at it, then handed the sheet to Arsene. “That’s Dixon’s latest list. Tell Winton or Muldoon that if they want more diamonds for their precious backers, they need to have everything on that list delivered to you at our usual haunt as soon as humanly possible, along with an extra cash payment—the usual amount for our trouble. As soon as you have everything, return here.”
Arsene hesitated, then said, “I know I asked before, but now that things have changed, if for some reason I can’t get hold of Muldoon or Winton, should I approach our man in the governor’s office?”
Dubois considered briefly, then shook his head. “No. Not at th
is point. He remains the hardest to approach covertly and...” Dubois grimaced. “Given the mounting urgency from the backers, given that Fate has sent us the men we need to meet their demands, then experience suggests that if anything’s going to go wrong, now is the time. And if anything unexpected occurs, we need that gentleman in the governor’s office to alert us to any impending threat. He’s also in the best position to deflect any threat, at least long enough for us to learn of it and cover our tracks.” Dubois met Arsene’s gaze. “So no—don’t risk tapping him on the shoulder.”
Arsene nodded, accepting the edict. “If we can get the supplies and cash in good time, we should be back in five days.”
* * *
The next morning, Caleb, Phillipe, and their men gathered about the fire pit with the other captives to indulge in a breakfast of what appeared to be ship’s biscuits and tea. The children were served bowls of thin gruel, which they devoured with indecent haste and unwavering attention.
Sipping hot tea from a tin mug, Caleb watched Katherine Fortescue and the other women. They’d sat together as they had the previous evening, heads close as they animatedly discussed what he gathered were the suggestions for delay that they planned to pass on to Dixon.
He glanced at the other men, many of whom also had their heads together, quietly talking. Reviewing the conversations he’d overheard the previous night while they’d rested surprisingly comfortably in hammocks strung between the poles that held up the roof of the men’s hut, Caleb murmured to Phillipe, “It appears we negotiated the reversal of yesterday reasonably well. Everyone’s focused on what comes next.”
Phillipe’s lips curved. Sipping from his mug, he met Caleb’s eyes. Lowering the mug, still smiling, he murmured back, “I never doubted it would be so. It’s your special skill.”
Caleb blinked. “It is?”
His question was entirely serious, but before he could pursue an answer, Dixon, Fanshawe, Hopkins, and Hillsythe joined them. Two sat on either side of Caleb and Phillipe and sipped from their mugs, then Dixon said, “I told Dubois several mornings ago that we were ready to begin properly constructing the second tunnel. I’ve had the carpenters framing the entrance, but we’ll soon run out of timber, bracing, and nails. Meanwhile, as someone pointed out last night, we don’t have enough pickaxes and shovels to increase the number of men wielding them.”
Dixon looked toward the barracks. “I usually consult with Dubois every morning. As I suggested last night, I’m going to tell him that I could best use you and your men in opening up the second tunnel—he’s keen to see that happen. However, until he provides more picks and shovels, he’s going to have to make a choice—do we use the tools for mining diamonds from the first tunnel or to dig out the second tunnel so we can subsequently mine the second deposit?”
Caleb nodded. “One’s productive, one’s not.” He paused, then asked, “One pertinent question we haven’t yet touched on. Do you know how Dubois gets paid? Is it in his and his men’s best interests that the mine operate for longer—or does it not matter to them either way?”
The other men looked at Hopkins, who replied, “Apparently, Dubois got a large payment at the start and is in line to get another at the successful end of the scheme—for which you should read when he’s successfully killed all of us—but he and his men also get additional payments every week.”
“Excellent.” Caleb looked at Dixon. “So Dubois has a financial incentive to keep the mine operating for as long as the diamond output holds up and the backers don’t call an end. Therefore he’s going to get us those tools as fast as he can, so there’s least chance of the mine prematurely closing.”
“That would be my reading of things, too,” Dixon said. “He already knows what we need. I gave him a detailed list yesterday after you lot arrived. But as to what we do in the interim, I’m going to suggest that in order to keep diamonds coming out while also making some headway on the second tunnel, we include you and your men as a separate team, but because of the lack of tools, we work in shifts. That way, the men on each shift will be less tired and more productive—or at least that’s the line I’m going to try and sell him.”
All the other men, including Caleb, nodded.
“That seems reasonable all around—from our point of view as well as Dubois’s...” Hillsythe’s gaze sharpened on the shadows of the barracks’ porch. “Hello—where’s Arsene off to?”
They all looked, then Hopkins rose. “I’ll find out.”
Hands in his pockets, he ambled up to one of the guards by the gate.
He returned before Arsene and the four men with him had reached the gate. Hopkins sat again and said, “Apparently, Arsene is off to the settlement to fetch the mining supplies Dixon requested.”
Before they could comment, Dubois appeared on the porch. He looked across at the fire pit and imperiously beckoned.
Dixon rose. “Wish me luck,” he said, and went.
Hillsythe shrugged. “We may as well wait to hear what Dubois decides.”
Caleb nodded. He glanced around the circle; as usual, his gaze snagged on Katherine Fortescue and refused to budge. Giving in to temptation, he rose and walked to where she sat in the center of the line of six women. She—they all—looked up as he approached.
He smiled winsomely, then crouched so he wasn’t towering over them. To his surprise, he realized Phillipe had followed at his heels. Caleb caught Katherine’s eye. “I wonder, Miss Fortescue, if you would mind introducing us?”
That got him—and Phillipe, who crouched beside him—smiles from all the women.
Katherine obliged and introduced each woman—Harriet Frazier, Ellen Mackenzie, Gemma Halliday, Annie Mellows, and Mary Wilson. Caleb exchanged smiles and nods with each one in turn, but on reaching Mary, a sweet-faced young woman with soft brown hair, he lingered. “You’re Charles Babington’s lady.”
Mary blushed. For a moment, she appeared tongue-tied, but then rather breathlessly said, “Thank you for mentioning Charles and his search for me last night. Until then, I thought—” She broke off and dragged in a tight breath. Then her eyes lit, and a soft smile wreathed her face. “I thought he must have forgotten me.”
Caleb’s smile was sincere. “He most definitely hasn’t. He’s doing all he can to assist in the rescue, and he was moved to do that because of you.”
Taking pity on Mary’s blushes, he shifted his gaze to Katherine and Harriet, although he directed his question to the group as a whole. “What, exactly, do you do in the cleaning shed? You mentioned chisels and hammers.”
Katherine allowed Harriet and the others to explain how they spent most of their days chipping away at the ore-encrusted diamonds, removing as much of the various minerals aggregated around the stones as they could, ultimately converting the rocks—or diamonds in the rough—into raw diamonds, smaller, lighter, and much easier to transport.
Caleb appeared to note her silence. When the others finished their description, he glanced at her. “You also deal with the children, don’t you?”
She felt ridiculously pleased that he’d remembered. “I take breaks during the day to check on the children, and they know to fetch me if there’s any problem. Their tasks are to fetch the rocks out of the mine—most of them are involved in that. A small group of girls then examines and tests each piece of ore, discarding the lumps that are just rock and keeping aside the lumps that might contain diamonds—those are the rocks that ultimately are brought to the cleaning shed. Annie and I”—she tipped her head at the other woman—“usually go in the afternoon to check the day’s discards to make sure no obvious diamonds have been missed.”
He glanced swiftly around.
Alerted, she did the same, but there were no guards close. She looked back at him as he asked, “That’s what the children meant when, last night, they spoke of creating another stockpile?”
She nodd
ed. “It would be easy enough to do, but everything would be out in the open—there for any guards to see if they took it into their heads to look.”
“How likely is that?” He looked at all the women, inviting their input.
The others shrugged or grimaced. Harriet rather darkly said, “Sadly, with them, you never can tell.”
Katherine stated, “The children are the most vulnerable in all ways, and their work is the most exposed. Unless there’s no other option, I would suggest we don’t involve them in anything...covert.”
Caleb met her eyes, read the determination—the protective instinct—in the hazel depths, and nodded his agreement. He glanced at the other women. “Is it possible for Lascelle and me to look in on your work in the cleaning shed? We need to understand the details of what you do, and the children, too—and perhaps we might take a look at your tools.”
The women all readily agreed.
He looked at Katherine. “Is it likely any guard will stop us, or that our coming to the cleaning shed will raise eyebrows, so to speak?”
She shook her head. “The men—Dixon, and others, too—stop by often enough to check this or that. Or just to talk. No guard will stop you entering, but a guard occasionally patrols outside and sometimes comes inside—we can never predict when they might appear.”
Caleb inclined his head. “Duly noted.”
The sound of footsteps approaching from the barracks had them all turning. Dixon was striding back to the fire pit, his stride as well as his expression signaling unhappiness.
“Excuse us.” Caleb rose.
After nodding politely to the women, Phillipe joined him, and they returned to where the other men, who had also seen Dixon approaching, were waiting to hear his news.
Dixon halted facing the group—Hillsythe, Fanshawe, Hopkins, and several others as well as Caleb and Phillipe—and blew out a frustrated breath. “The damned man’s learning. He’s insisted the men working the first tunnel continue as they have been, keeping up the production of ore to at least the same levels as before.” Dixon glanced at Hillsythe. “To do that, we’ll need to start feeding out ore from our stockpile.”