“Certainly. However, speaking of Pencliff Towers, I must report an occurrence of smuggling.”
Armitage exchanged a glance with Rowe before saying, “Very conscientious of you, sir. Since taking up this post several months ago, I’ve found most people around here do no such thing.”
“I’m not against a bit of profit,” Carlos explained, with perfect honesty. “But this instance goes rather beyond that.”
Armitage nodded. “Please go on.”
“Last night, around ten in the evening, a ship anchored just offshore of the beach below Pencliff Towers. A longboat rowed to the beach and several crates of opium were unloaded and stored in a cave at the base of the cliff.”
The magistrate raised his eyebrows. “Opium? What makes you so sure of the cargo?”
“I was curious. After the smugglers left their goods behind, I went and looked.” Carlos shrugged. “I’ve spent a little time in India, so I knew what the contents were.” (He left out Poppy’s involvement, naturally.)
Rowe half-raised a hand. “Er, should I be recording this, sir?”
“Not at the moment, Rowe,” Armitage said, waving him off. “For the moment, let’s say we’re having an interesting discussion.”
Carlos felt a stirring of unease. Why would the magistrate not want to record a report like this?
Shaking his head, Armitage went on, “That was a foolhardy action, if I may say, Mr…de la Guerra, is it? Since you’re not from here, you may not know the reputation of the local smuggling gangs. In short, they’re vicious. If you had been seen, you would have been killed without question.” His eyes bored into Carlos, and he felt there was a special warning in them. Possibly an outright threat.
“Do you know who the smugglers are?” Carlos asked, not put off.
“Peter Spargo runs the biggest crew,” the deputy offered. “Half the men in town have done some owling at least once.”
The magistrate sent him a sharp look. “That will do, Rowe!”
The deputy shut up.
“The Towers are friends of mine,” Carlos said. “And I should not like them to be harmed by this—I suppose you’d call it an operation—using their property. I am quite sure Mr. Towers would never permit such actions, especially if it was a violent gang. There are a number of ladies at the house right now. Just imagine the problems that could arise if one of those smugglers happened to go a bit afield and encounter one of them. ”
The magistrate looked frustrated. He rapped lightly on one of the open books on his desk. “Hmmm, yes. I see your point, Mr. de la Guerra. In truth, I have few resources to do anything about it. I am allotted only two paid deputies, which would put us at a considerable disadvantage against even the smallest gang of smugglers. And Spargo’s gang isn’t small—assuming that’s who’s behind it, of course.”
“You must be able to do something.”
“I could take the issue to the Customs officer in Truro,” said Armitage. “But with no hard evidence, it will be a tough case to make. They have problems of their own and are unwilling to waste the manpower on what could be a wild goose chase.”
“Wild goose chase? Opium is surely more significant than your average shipment of tax-free silk.”
“I cannot prove to anyone that opium was involved,” Armitage said, spreading his hands. “Not that I doubt your word, but I need evidence.”
“Then I’ll bring you evidence. I’ll return to the caves and take one of the packages.”
Armitage shook his head vehemently. “That you must not do! It’s far too dangerous.”
Rowe also half-stood in alarm. “Sir, you’ve no idea when they might come back. Peter Spargo might not be there himself. He tends to haunt the Red Anchor by day. But one of his men could be in the caves, and they’d not think twice about killing you for seeing something that could implicate them.”
“Have they killed before?” Carlos asked Rowe.
“Almost certainly,” Rowe said. “We find bodies washed up on the beaches sometimes, sir. The coroner calls them drownings, but…that is the safe thing to say.”
Exactly what happened to Mateo, Carlos thought.
“Enough, Rowe,” Armitage warned in a low voice. “I’m sure our guest understands the gravity of the situation.”
“And do you, Mr. Armitage?” Carlos asked. “This isn’t a few barrels of whiskey snuck past the Customs officer to avoid paying a duty. The government will take this seriously. That opium was meant to be sent where it’s needed. The Peninsula, perhaps?”
“Or even the hospitals around here,” Rowe added. “I’ve heard that there are never enough medicines for the returning soldiers. The East India Company sends more opium to China than to Britain now.”
