Rapscallion Read Free Page B

have
bloody known ,
Hawkwood thought.
    Ezra Twigg's
face should have given the game away. Hawkwood wondered why he hadn't picked up
the signals. The little clerk's head had been cast down when Hawkwood entered
the ante-room in reply to the Chief Magistrate's summons. Normally, Twigg would
have looked up from his scribbling and passed some pithy comment about the
marks on the floor left by Hawkwood's boot heels, but this time Twigg had
barely acknowledged the Runner's arrival. All he'd done was look up quickly,
murmur, "They're waiting for you," and return to his paperwork. The
omens hadn't been good. Hawkwood chided himself for not being more observant. Though he had absorbed the warning that the Chief Magistrate had
company.
    As Hawkwood
entered the office, James Read stepped away from the tall window. It was
mid-morning and sunlight pierced the room. Hawkwood wondered why the Chief
Magistrate, a man who made no secret of his dislike for cold weather, looked so
pensive. Given his usual disconsolate manner when confronted with inclement
skies, he should, by rights, have been dancing across the carpet.
    The second man
looked around. He was heavy-set, with short, sandy hair, a broad face and a web
of red veins radiating across his cheeks. He was dressed in the uniform of a
naval officer and clearly suffered from the habitual stoop, characteristic of so many
seamen, which , Hawkwood had come to realize, was more
a testimony to the lack of headroom in a man-of-war than any lingering defect
of birth.
    The officer
looked Hawkwood up and down, taking in the scarred face, the unfashionably long
hair tied at the nape of the neck and the dark, well-cut attire. The Chief
Magistrate walked to his desk. His movements, as ever, were measured and
precise. He sat down. "Officer Hawkwood, this gentleman is Captain Elias
Ludd. As his uniform implies, Captain Ludd is from the Admiralty."
    Hawkwood and the
captain exchanged cautious nods.
    "The
Transport Board, to be exact," James Read said.
    Hawkwood said
nothing. The Transport Board had been created initially to provide ships,
troops and supplies during the American War of Independence. But the wars
against Bonaparte had seen the Board expand its range of activities far beyond
the original borders of the Atlantic. Now, due to Britain's vast military and
naval commitments, the Board was responsible for the movement of supply ships
to the four corners of the globe.
    "The
Admiralty requires our assistance." Read nodded towards his visitor.
"Captain, you have the floor."
    "Thank you,
sir." Ludd looked down at the carpet and then raised his head. "I've
an officer who's gone missing; name of Sark. Lieutenant Andrew Sark."
    There was a
short silence.
    Hawkwood looked
towards the Chief Magistrate for guidance, then back to the officer. "And
what, you want us to find him? Isn't that the navy's job?"
    Ludd looked taken
aback by Hawkwood's less than sympathetic response. James Read said,
"There are other factors to consider. As you know, the Transport Board's
jurisdiction extends beyond what might be viewed as its traditional
bailiwick."
    What the hell
did that mean? Hawkwood wondered.
    "The Board
also administers foreign prisoners of war," James Read said. "You
recall it took over the duty from the Sick and Hurt Board."
    Hawkwood
wondered if the Chief Magistrate was expecting a vocal acknowledgement. He decided
it was probably best to remain silent. Better to keep your mouth shut and be
thought an idiot than to speak and remove all doubt. He decided a noncommittal
nod would probably suffice.
    "My
apologies, Captain," Read said. "Please continue."
    Ludd cleared his
throat. "Over the past several weeks, there's been a sudden increase in
the number of prisoners who've escaped from detention. We sent Lieutenant Sark
to investigate whether these were random events or part of some orchestrated
effort."
    "And he's
failed to report back?" Hawkwood said.
    Ludd nodded, his face solemn.
    "When did
you last hear