“This is as close as we can get, captain,” Valentin said, keeping his voice low.
Carlos nodded, and went to find Poppy.
“Where are we?” she asked when he joined her at the bow.
“Remember when you fell off the cliff? This is the same beach. I’ll row you to shore and take you to the grotto, just to make sure none of Spargo’s gang are there. Then you go alone through the same tunnel to the basement of Pencliff Towers.”
She looked over at him, surprise on her features. “You’re not coming with me?”
“The point of this exercise is to get you back to a safe place without anyone knowing where you’ve been…or with who.”
“And I’ll see you back at the house tomorrow? That is, later today?”
Carlos nodded curtly. “Of course. Unless I decide to disappear over the horizon again.”
Poppy’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t reply. Too bad. He felt much better when she argued with him.
He rowed to shore, and helped her out so her clothing didn’t get soaked again.
The grotto was deserted, although Carlos had a creeping feeling that they weren’t alone. He shook his head. That was the fog. It warped shapes and sounds and light and distance. It was all too easy to imagine things in the fog.
He and Poppy walked, unspeaking, to the narrow gap in the rock where she’d first grabbed him and pulled him into concealment.
He handed her a lantern from the Agustina. “Here. You know the way?”
“Claro.” She gave a little toss of her head, and added in English, “I could find my way blindfolded.”
“There’s not much time before dawn. Be careful, Poppy.” I’ll die if anything happens to you.
Her eyes widened, almost as if she heard him speak the words aloud. But then she turned, and vanished into the darkness of the cave. He swallowed painfully. Just thinking about her all alone, wandering those twisted, oppressive passages… Of course, Poppy had already proven herself to be far more capable than he was in such situations, which only made him feel even more annoyed at his own fears.
When Carlos returned to the Agustina, he was in a foul mood. “Let’s get away from here.”
“Where to?”
“Who the hell cares? Out of this fog bank, to start. I hate the fog. I feel like a thousand eyes are watching me.”
Valentin nodded. “I’ll head to Truro. You’ll want to speak to Customs. Now that we’ve confirmed that the Seadragon brought in that opium, and we know Spargo’s crew sails the Seadragon, you can get those agents to do something about it.”
“If they listen.”
At Truro later that morning, Carlos waited impatiently until the clerk opened the Customs house doors.
He was able to show the opium cake as evidence, which got him ushered into the office of the head of His Majesty’s Customs operations in Truro, referred to as the Collector. Mr. Snell was an older man with sagging features but glittering ice-blue eyes, and he wore an old-fashioned white wig.
Carlos explained all that had happened in the past several days, while the official listened closely.
“Why not bring the matter up with the local magistrate?” Snell asked at the end.
“I did,” Carlos said. “Armitage seems uninterested in pursuing the matter. Of course, Spargo is just down the street.”
Collector Snell raised an eyebrow, catching the implication. “I see. Well, you’re correct that the presence of opium raises the stakes. As it happens, the army has been noticing a sharp drop in the supply level for many items shipped to the Continent for the war effort. I wouldn’t be surprised if the crates you saw were diverted. I’ll contact the relevant parties and we’ll up the patrols in the area.”
“Are you intending to raid Pencliff Towers?”
“Raid a great house?” The official looked alarmed. “My good man, that would be…I can’t even imagine how the local gentry would react if they heard we stormed our way into one of their homes. We’d never hear the end of it!”
“Then what will you do?”
