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"The same thing he always tells us before we meet with you. Nothing." Harris, tall and sallow, was nondescript enough to blend into any crowd, and dull enough, once there, to be overlooked. These traits worked beautifully in his favor, for his lightning-quick mind missed nothing, his flawless memory retained it all, and his gut instincts knew just when to act on it.
As always, Rem had chosen well.
"Here's the situation. I'm sure it's no secret to you that an unusual number of British ships have inexplicably disappeared. Our job is to find out why."
"What you really mean, is who," Harris qualified.
"Exactly. It could be privateers, foreign ships ... or culprits right here in England."
"Which one do you want us to look into first?"
Rem regarded the glowing tip of his cheroot thoughtfully. "Let's suppose, for a moment, that the criminal—or criminals—are English. What could they hope to gain?"
"Money," Templar chimed in at once. "From the booty they take, you mean?" "Or the insurance," Harris added quietly.
"Precisely." Rem gave Harris a mock salute. "So, while Boyd and I are investigating the possibilities of privateers or enemy activity, you will be exploring more local avenues—a delicate task indeed."
"How so?"
"Think about it, Templar. If insurance money is the motivating factor, then who serves to collect?"
"Whoever has cargo on the lost ship."
"Or the ship's owner," Harris added.
"Right. And in the case of the latter, you'll be dealing with wealthy businessmen. Men who would take grave exception to being accused of committing a felony."
"How are we supposed to get information from these ship owners?"
"Ask them for it," Rem returned calmly.
"We can't do that, Gresham." Harris came to his feet. "No matter how discreet we are. We'd need to see their records in order to learn anything. What reason would we give for barging in and demanding to do so?"
"You wouldn't need a reason."
"What the hell does that mean? Even your name is not powerful enough to gain us access—"
"My name is not to be used." Rem's voice cut through Harris's tirade like a lethal sword. "Ever. Under any circumstances." He leaned forward, all coiled fury and suppressed strength. "Just as it never has been ... and as it never will be. Right, Harris?"
Harris sank back into his seat, "Of course, Gresham. I was merely making a point."
"Your point is justified." Rem eased back, tossing off his gin. "But as I said, you won't need to fabricate a reason. The magistrate will provide you with a legitimate one."
"What?" Both Harris and Templar gaped.
"I'll see to it that the Bow Street Magistrate happens upon a situation that will require his runners to investigate various companies ... these companies, specifically." Rem took a folded sheet of paper from his coat pocket.
"How?"
"You leave that to me." Smoothing out the page, Rem continued. "Take this list. Once I provide you with the magistrate's order, I want you to call on all these establishments in an official capacity—quickly, before they can be alerted to your forthcoming visit. Some of the names here are of merchants, others are of powerful shipping magnates. I want their records fully examined, with any unusual expenses or income duly noted. Should you discover anything out of the ordinary, report it to me at once.
"Over and above these scheduled visits, your services will be required to assist Boyd at the docks. I've already hired men to scrutinize the Thames, but I need trained officials to question any unorthodox-looking sailors, sea captains, or dock workers. Use whatever means of persuasion you deem necessary ... and if that fails, let me know. Skeletons lurk in everyone's closet, and I'm quite adept at finding them." Rem flicked his ash carelessly. "So is Boyd. It's amazing how the casual mention of an indiscretion encourages a man to talk freely, isn't it?"
"Indeed it is." Boyd refilled his mug.
"As always," Rem added, "the docks are Boyd's turf; he is completely in charge. Follow his orders unconditionally. Is that clear?"
Harris and Templar nodded.
