Evan pushed the memories aside and crossed his arms, glaring at Bryce. “Well?”
Bryce glanced at Niall. “We have been trying to bring down Seoras MacInnes for some time.”
Evan barked a laugh. “Ye too, eh? Half the law keepers in Scotland are after Seoras MacInnes.” His eyes narrowed. “But what I’m wondering is why an earl would concern himself with a dockside criminal?”
“Because he isnae just a dockside criminal and the government isveryinterested in his activities.”
“The government? So what? What has that got to do with ye?”
Niall cleared his throat. “Evan, there is something ye need to know. I was given a mission to find Seoras MacInnes on behalf of the crown.” He hesitated. “Because I’m a government agent. And Bryce spies for me among the aristocracy.”
Evan’s gaze snapped to him. “Yewhat?”
Niall met his stare steadily. “Officially, I run my estate, attend functions in Edinburgh and act like any other landed gentry. Unofficially, I act against anyone or anything that threatens the crown.”
Evan let out a slow breath. Niall had always been the smart one, the one who could mold himself to fit any situation. Seems he’d found a better way to overcome his family’s misfortune than Evan himself had.
Bryce continued. “MacInnes is suspected of involvement in a plot we uncovered recently.”
Evan stilled. He’d heard of this, of course. It was the talk of the capital: whispers of French ships, secret landings, nobles conspiring to stop the Articles of Union from going ahead, even if it meant civil war.
“Ye think Seoras MacInnes, a smuggler, murderer, and outlaw was involved in a plot with some traitorous nobles?” Evan asked. He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. “I dinna think so. Seoras MacInnes has about as much interest in politics as I do. His interests lie in wealth and power. Nothing else.”
“And nothing brings more wealth and power than war,” Niall replied. “To those who know how to exploit it. To those who have access to landing sites. Storage. Distribution.”
“Why is he after ye?” Bryce asked.
Evan shrugged. “Because I double-crossed him.”
“How?”
“I diverted shipments of imported liquor. High-end French stock. Sold it independently.”
Bryce’s expression did not change, but his eyes sharpened. “That is insufficient.”
“What do ye mean? He was pretty damned angry.”
“Anger isnae obsession,” Bryce said. “It doesnae explain why he’s had his people chase ye halfway across the country or whyhe was willing to risk exposure by sending his men here. It doesnae sound to me like a man merely wanting to punish a thief.”
Evan felt irritation flare. “Ye think I dinna know the man?”
Bryce stepped forward slightly. “I think,” he said carefully, “that ye may be more important to him than ye realize.” From inside his coat, Bryce withdrew a small ledger. It’s worn leather cover held no crest or embellishment. It looked like the kind of ledger any harbor master might keep.
He held it out to Evan. Hesitantly, Evan took it and flipped through the pages. It wasn’t a ledger tallying docking fees and goods imported, as Evan had expected. Instead, symbols filled the pages—neat, repeating patterns of lines and curves. He recognized them. On occasion he’d used them himself.
They were the outlaw shorthand used by Seoras MacInnes and his people—the same symbols that they’d carved on a tree out on the moors as a warning to Evan. These symbols were coded indicators for shipments, destinations, quantities. Simple enough to appear meaningless to outsiders. Complex enough to convey detail.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“It was recovered from a courier intercepted near Leith this morning,” Niall said.
Evan scanned the markings. His mind translated automatically. Routes. Transfers. Storage points.
And then—
His jaw tightened. These were not liquor consignments. These symbols—slight variations in angle and spacing—denoted different classes of cargo. Crates heavier than they should be. Shipments moved inland without passing through the usual tavern distributors.
Evan swallowed as the pattern snapped into focus. French ships. French crates. French contacts.
