“I meant how can I help you,” he said gently. This Ximena was terrifying to behold. She’d always been a vivacious, laughing girl. The figure in front him was practically a ghost.
“He was murdered,” she whispered, her gaze still unfocused.
“What? I heard he drowned.”
“The body was pulled out of the sea, but he didn’t die in any accident while sailing. He was killed because he knew something he shouldn’t.”
He sat across from her and took her hand in his. “Tell me everything.”
And she did—slowly—because she broke down in tears every few minutes. Evidently, Mateo met a British man claiming to support the cause for Dominican independence. Mateo knew that the Dominican forces badly needed supplies to fight the various colonial powers contesting the island. So he sailed to Britain, bringing back a shipment of rifles (supposedly purloined from French army units fighting in Portugal and elsewhere). On the next trip, it was saltpeter from North America, a key ingredient in gunpowder. According to Ximena, Mateo was ecstatic, feeling that his work would give the Dominican patriots the edge they needed against better-equipped, trained, professional soldiers.
“But he was nervous,” Ximena said. “He knew that any naval vessel that caught him would imprison or execute him and his crew—that’s always a risk. And he didn’t trust the supplier in Britain. Said the man was dangerous.”
“All smugglers are dangerous,” Carlos said. “Mateo knew that, so what made this one worse?”
“I’m not sure, but I think he feared this man would double-cross him. He was no patriot of any kind, just a leader of some gang.”
“And you think he sold out Mateo?”
She nodded. “I know it. He killed my brother out of greed. And Mateo’s death means that our people won’t get the supplies they require to fight off the cursed soldiers who think this island is a toy to fight over.” Her eyes blazed as she spoke. It was the first sign of her returning spirit.
“Let me see what I can find out,” Carlos offered. “It won’t bring Mateo back, but it may help his soul rest. And it may help if you know his killer faced justice.”
“Would you?” she asked, hope in her red-rimmed eyes. “I can’t tell you what it would mean to me. I see Mateo in my dreams every night. He’s begging me to do something, but I don’t know what I can do!”
“You can stay here, get well, and keep the estate running. Ximena, a lot of people’s lives depend on you. Meanwhile, I’ll sail to Britain and investigate this. Mateo was a brother to me. If he was betrayed and murdered, I’m not going to let his killer go.”
“That’s all I need to hear,” Ximena breathed. “You can avenge Mateo’s death.”
“Then I need to know details. Where did Mateo sail to pick up the goods?”
“Cornwall. He mentioned a town…Trever-something. But Mateo said the smugglers used a base well outside the town proper. A network of caves.”
From what Carlos knew, the peninsula of Cornwall was practically all caves. They could be found at nearly any point along the shore, whether on the channel side or the ocean.
“I don’t have many contacts in Cornwall,” he said. “I mostly use London as my base when I ship goods, legal or not. But I know some people. And if this man is so dangerous, other people will know about him too. Did Mateo ever name him?”
Ximena shook her head. “The man used a code name: Dragon. But Mateo did describe him in a letter to me. He’s a big man, with curly back hair and eyes like a demon. Don’t ask me what that means—you know Mateo’s way of speaking.”
“I do. And the gang? How many of them were there?”
“It must be large. Mateo said it was a very efficient operation—and they practically took over some tavern on the waterfront, use it like a private club. He said they moved smoothly, with lots of help. A signaler on the shore, men ready to move goods at a moment’s notice…and he said that local Customs officials always looked the other way when the dragon flew through the night.”
“Paid them off,” Carlos said. “I’m due to ship some goods to London in a week. I’ll arrange to spend some time in Cornwall after that.”
“If that man killed Mateo, he’ll kill others as well. Oh, Carlos, God watch over you.”
Well, something was watching, he reflected now, but probably not God. Would God arrange for Poppy St George to appear at the very same location where he was hunting down a gang of smugglers? Unlikely. He’d have to be careful to keep her from getting any more involved than she already was.
Chapter 3
Rose —
He’s here.
—Poppy
The note was short and, to anyone other than the two women, it would be meaningless. But as soon as the words were read to her, Rose would instantly know who Poppy meant. (Not that Poppy had discussed Carlos with her after their initial encounters. Indeed, it was more likely that any mention of his name was met with Poppy’s stony silence.) But Rose was her dearest, closest friend, and she had sensed how Poppy felt those first few times she met Carlos and the hope she’d briefly harbored. Was it possible that she’d met a quick-witted, good-hearted person who actually liked her attitude and didn’t mind that she was merely a daughter of trade-class folks? Carlos seemed to fit that bill, and he very much hinted that he’d call on her, which would be the next step in a more formal courtship.
