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Chapter Seventeen
Afew miles away, a figure appeared in the darkness at the beginning of the street. From its outline, one could tell that it was a man even though he had a hood over his head to shield his face from view.
The man walked briskly, his steps filled with purpose as he traversed the inner city streets of London otherwise known as the red light district.
From the way he walked, it was obvious he knew these streets like the back of his hands and was in a hurry to arrive at a destination.
He looked left and right as he crossed the street, quickly doubling back in the direction he had just come from.
An alleyway lay in front and when he got to the opening, he looked around him again before darting in. His pace quickened as he neared the door at the end of the alleyway which was hidden in the darkness.
He arrived in front of the door just as rats scurried away from his path.
A slight rasp on the door and a voice thundered from within.
“Who goes there?”
“One on a quest for liberty, equality and fraternity,” he responded.
There was a brief pause before the sounds of locks disengaging was heard.
The phrase the mysterious man had used in response was from the French Revolution, whose slogan had beenLiberte Egalite Fraternite.
This was the headquarters of the coming English revolution.
The door swung open and a burly man stood in the doorway holding a lamp. From his blackened fingers to the ash on his face and clothes, it was obvious that this man worked in the coal mines. A harsh raspy cough escaped his throat which cleared any doubt that this was, indeed, a miner.
The light from the lamp gave him an eerie glow whilst also illuminating the stranger standing outside.
Satisfied that the mystery man was indeed authorized to be there, the burly doorkeeper stepped aside.
As soon as the man had walked in, the doorkeeper stepped back and shut the door, securing the locks as he had done before this visit.
When he was done, he turned to face the man under the hood.
“Has everyone arrived?” the man under the hood asked.
“Yes, boss,” the door keeper replied.
“Good. Let’s not keep them waiting now shall we?”
The doorkeeper stepped in front and began leading the way through a dark winding corridor. If not for the lamp, one would crash into the walls, unable to find their way.
After a few paces, the corridor straightened out as light emanated from its end. On reaching the end, the corridor emptied into a room that had been lit with more lamps.
There could have been upwards of a hundred men in that dimly lit room and everyone stood to acknowledge the presence of this new entrant.
“Please be seated,” he announced, as he arrived at his designated seat at the head of the room.
“So first order of business, what is the current status of our shipment of muskets and ammunition from France?” he asked.
“The shipment has set sail from the Port of Calais. We shall soon take delivery of them,” one of the men answered.
“And the bribes to be paid to some of the officials?” the mystery man asked.
“I have sent out a courier with payments to everyone that was outlined in the notebook you gave me,” another answered this time.
“Good. Nothing must hinder that shipment from arriving in London. Those muskets and ammunitions are the very foundation of our plan. Without them, we might as well start a war with Britain using pitchforks and shovels,” he responded.
