As the day wore on, Archibald had considered simply firing Annie Ferguson but then decided against it. There hadn’t been asingle error in the accounting ledgers since she’d started work, which was something he couldn’t say about his former manager. More importantly, though, she did not have any clue that opium and gold were being exchanged in the false bottoms of the barley and tobacco barrels that crisscrossed the Atlantic. She signed invoices and bills-of-lading based on physical inventory. Someone with more experience might question why such an abundance of barley and tobacco was being exchanged in relation to other goods like woolens and linens. Better to keep an unsuspecting novice in charge.
He was so close to accumulating enough money to purchase one of the former tobacco lords’ mansions and retaking his rightful place in society. He’d no longer have to take a hand in daily operations of a warehouse either. He could sell his half to his business partner and work strictly with investments, as a gentleman would.
Duncan Tate, the owner of one of the local woolen mills, stood up and the room quieted. “I’m glad to see so many of you here tonight.”
Which was the man’s way of calling their meeting to order. Tate was the official chairperson for their unofficial delegation. The men present tonight were members of the Committee for Organizing a Provisional Government. The topics they discussed would center on mundane issues of raising wages and improving the economy which had slumped more than two years ago with the end of the French and American wars. Privately, their group meant to rid Scotland totally of English control. That topic would be spoken of carefully in code as more and more power was consolidated and procedures slowly put into place. They weren’t quite ready for a coup yet.
Which reminded Haines that he needed to check on some of his investments to assure that he had a place at the top of the new aristocracy when it took power. He wished Gordon Munroewould come back from wherever he had gone. If the man would return to his bookkeeping job at Henderson Shipping, those two pesky MacDonalds would have no reason to stay in Glasgow.
The fewer people scrutinizing his business, the better.
****
Kingsley watched from the shadows across the street as Haines, along with nearly a score of other men, exited Walker’s Hotel shortly after nine o’clock. He mentally checked off each one, although he knew the same men met bi-monthly at the same time. Still, he couldn’t afford to assume anything. If someone new had been added to the group or someone had stopped attending, Kingsley needed those names.
The prime minister expected accurate information.
Pity that Kingsley hadn’t been able to infiltrate the inner circle of these men. They’d been friendly enough in the outer public room and seemed to agree when he mentioned the need for economic reform that they claimed their committee was trying to do. But the fact that he hadn’t been invited to attend the private meetings made him all the more suspicious that more was going on than just reform. The Scots had a long history of rebelling against the English, and their last battle, at Culloden, had been more than seventy years ago. The French ousting Napoleon and the Americans revolting were simply fuel for the ever-smoldering ashes of Scottish independence to be reignited.
But he could make an example of one man and perhaps slow the movement down—or, even better, identify someone already in the circle who might become a turncoat. In Kingsley’s experience, once a man realized he stood to lose everything—property, money, position, family—he could often bepersuadedto talk. All Kingsley had to do was dig up the right information on the weakest link in this chain.
After discovering the false bottom filled with opium powder in the exported barley barrels at the warehouse and the gold atthe bottom of the returning imported tobacco barrels, Kingsley passed the information to London, along with a request to trace the source of the opium, if it could be found. He might not be able to prove treason yet, but evading import taxes on opium would provide gaol time. The idea that Newgate prison might claim other “guests” from Glasgow could get one of the men to talk.
And Kingsley was very close to making that happen.
Chapter Thirteen
“Why cannae any of ye understand how important this job is to me?” Annie glared at Niall, Aidan, and Owen. Aidan had joined them since a room had been vacated in the boardinghouse. Now all three were sitting at the dining table, stone-faced as Puritans about to execute judgment.
“’Tis nae that we doona understand,” Aidan replied with the patient tone one might use on a balkish bairn. “’Tis the risk of danger ye put yourself in.”
“Aidan said James wanted to threaten ye,” Niall added.
If Aidan had been within reachable distance from where she sat, she would have kicked him. Niall was critical enough of her job. She didn’t need his brother giving him any more ammunition.
“But he dinnae,” Annie replied. “He thought better of it.”
“Only because my brother was there.” Niall set his jaw. “Did ye think on what might have happened otherwise?”
Annie gave an exasperated sigh. “Nothingwould have happened. Mr. Haines would have intervened.”
“How do ye ken?” Niall asked.
“I justdo.” She folded her arms.
Niall made a growling sound. “Stubborn lass.”
“Obstinate man,” Annie shot back.
Owen looked from one to the other and shook his head. “If I might make an observation?” They both frowned at him, but he ignored the looks. “I do not think Annie is in any danger at the office—”
“Aha!” Annie glowered at Niall. “There. Ye see? Owen agrees with me.”
“Only to a point,” Owen said quickly before Niall could reply. “I think the danger lies when you move about on the streets.”
“There!” Niall gave her a smug smile. “Yesee?”
Annie drew her brows together. “I doona—”
