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"I don't 'urt his bloody men."
"You just sell them." Rem advanced menacingly at the pirate. "Who do you work for?"
"Ye said it yerself. Summerson."
"Who else?"
"I don't know."
In an instant the knife was a hair's breadth from Fuller's throat. "Don't insult me, Fuller. I get angry when I'm insulted."
"I'm not lyin' t' ye. I've 'eard 'im mention 'is partners ... but never by name."
"You're trying to tell me the only one you've ever seen, the only one you get your money from, is Summerson?"
"That's right." Fuller nodded, wincing as the blade nicked his skin. "I meet 'im at the same spot each time. 'E pays me. That's all."
"The same spot? Funny, you met him in the open a few days ago to collect your money after capturing the Bountiful."
Sweat trickled down Fuller's cheek, soaked into his beard. "I 'ad no choice. I needed my money and I was late gettin' back. We were supposed t' meet the night before. I couldn't make it."
"Why not?"
"Th-The weather . . ."
"The skies were fair all week long."
"We were f-farther out than I expected. ..."
"More likely you were searching the waters for the crewman who escaped before you could sell him—Captain Towers. Tell me, were you relieved not to find him? Did you assume he'd perished in the Channel?"
Fuller's eyes were wide with fear. "I didn't 'urt 'im. 'E disappeared. If 'e drowned, it's not my fault."
"Then you'll be pleased to know he didn't drown. He's alive, well, and restored to England. Isn't that splendid news, Fuller?"
"Ye're lyin'," the privateer whispered.
"I must say. Captain Towers's description of you was remarkably accurate. Good enough to hang you the moment I turn you in to Bow Street."
"Is that what ye're gonna do t' me?"
"As I said, if I wanted you dead, you'd be buried by now. No, what I want from you, Fuller, is a favor."
"A favor?"
"Yes. Send a message to Summerson. Make it sound like you're running completely amok, frenzied with worry. Tell him you've all been found out—you, him, and his partners. Tell him you received an ominous missive, threatening to expose all of you and send you to Newgate. Convince Summerson that an immediate, urgent meeting must be called for tomorrow night. Make sure you tell him it's crucial for everyone involved to be present, that one of you is actually an informant. Demand to see all his partners face-to-face. Make your writing as unstable as possible, so that even if Summerson is unconvinced he's been found out, he'll do as you ask simply to calm you down and keep you from doing something foolish."
"Where do ye want us t' meet?"
"At Anders Shipping, half after four tomorrow ... in the wee hours just before dawn."
"I guess ye plan t' be there."
"Another word of advice, Fuller." Rem lifted the knife, flattening his palms against the wall on either side of Fuller's head. "Don't even consider alerting anyone or fleeing prior to the meeting. In either case, I'll hunt you down within the day and kill you where you stand. My me
n are everywhere; they know what you eat, where you sleep, who you talk to. There's no escaping me. So don't try." Rem leaned closer, his eyes boring into Fuller's scarred face. "I assume I've made myself clear."
A shaky nod.
