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Morton placed the box on a table and stepped back. “If anyone is looking for work, then I might be able to help you. But it is not without risks, mind you.”
The back door opened and two serving wenches walked in with trays filled with tankards. “Drink and remember, men,” Morton said as he stepped away from the front of the room.
Baldwin went to intercept Morton. “I am interested in a job,” he said.
Morton bobbed his head in approval. “Follow me,” he instructed as he left the back room. He sat at an empty table in the main hall.
Baldwin sat down across from him and gave him an expectant look.
Morton leaned closer. “I have found a lucrative business,” he said in a hushed voice, “but it is not for the faint of heart.”
“You don’t want me to kill anyone, do you?” Baldwin asked, keeping his face expressionless.
“No. Nothing like that,” Morton chuckled, “but it might make you squeamish.”
“You have seen the place where I live,” Baldwin joked. “Nothing makes me squeamish anymore.”
“That is what I wanted to hear,” Morton said, glancing around him. “I found a merchant who will take some merchandise off our hands and sell it in India.”
Baldwin nodded his understanding. “What do you want me to steal?”
Morton paused. “Women.”
Baldwin lifted his brows. “Women?”
“We are careful who we abduct, so as not to attract too much attention,” Morton explained. “We pluck them off the streets, and no one is the wiser.”
“What happens to these women?”
Morton shrugged. “Who cares?” he asked. “But we make a hefty profit.”
“What’s my cut?”
A self-satisfied smile came to Morton’s face. “I pay five pounds a girl.”
“Five pounds?” he repeated back in astonishment. “Just to abduct some girl and deliver her to you?”
Morton leaned back in his seat and declared, “It is the easiest money that you will ever make.”
“How much do you make off each girl?” Baldwin asked.
“Ten pounds, but my cut goes to help the revolution,” Morton shared.
Baldwin wiped his hand over his chin. “What girl do you want me to abduct?”
“You choose,” Morton remarked.
“How long do I have to get her?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Morton said, “The merchant will be arriving by the end of the week. We are keeping the abducted girls in a pub near the docks known as the Flailing Duck.”
“I can find a girl before then.”
“Excellent,” Morton said as he waved a serving wench over. “Shall we drink on it?”
“You want todo what?!” Corbyn shouted.
Unperturbed by his friend’s outburst, Baldwin slowly repeated his request, “I want to abduct a girl and deliver her to the Flailing Duck.”
