Indiscretions

London September 1, 1820 Reginald Hunter, sixth Earl of Lockwood, regarded the under-secretary of the Foreign Office with doubt. "I don't know, Lord Eastman. I'm with the Home Office. How can I help you?" "The lines between the Home and Foreign Offices have blurred recently, especially in the West Indies. St. Claire is a British colony, which would put it under the auspices of the Home Office, but since we are dealing with other nationalities and subjects, the Foreign Office has taken charge." Hunt settled into the deep overstuffed chair across from Lord Eastman and accepted a small goblet of brandy from the footman. What could the man be about to say that required them to meet at their club instead of the government offices? Either Eastman wanted him drunk, or he had a concern with security at the office. He cupped the goblet in his right hand and warmed the deep red liquid. "Did Castlereagh inform you that I've tendered my resignation to the Home Office?" The last thing he wanted on the eve of his retirement from public service was to become embroiled in someone else's problem. He'd paid his dues, and an extra measure besides. What more could they ask than his soul? "Yes, your resignation." Eastman nodded. "That's why we were hoping to persuade you to join us." "Thank you for the confidence, but why would I trade one dangerous job for another? I'm weary of risking my life at the turn of a corner. And now that we've finally dealt with--" "The white slaver. Yes, heard about that. Just a week or so ago, wasn't it?" "That was the last loose end. I can quit in good conscience now, take my seat in the Lords and settle down." Eastman sipped his own brandy. "You've barely reached your apex, Lockwood," he said, using Hunt's title. "This assignment is a little plum. Easy as pie and something you could do in your sleep. Think of it as a holiday." In his experience, nothing the government asked of him was that simple. "Then have someone else go on holiday." "Has to be done on the hush. Very sensitive, as it is a part of an ongoing investigation. You're known for your discretion." Discreet? Is that what they were calling assassins now? Would discretion reclaim the soul he'd forfeited to do the dirty but necessary jobs that other men refused? Ah, but he was intrigued in spite of himself. And now he was sure the Foreign Office had a traitor. Why else would they need a man of his "talents"? "Is your leak here or in St. Claire?" Eastman frowned and lowered his voice. "We don't know. We need an outsider for this, and your name came up since you have holdings in St. Claire. Only natural that you'd want to visit and check on your investments, eh?" Hunt sighed. "Tell me about this 'little plum' you want me to look into." "Pirates." The answer so surprised him that he coughed, drawing the attention of a few quiet occupants of the club library. He cleared his throat and whispered, "Easy? What the hell is easy about pirates?" "The Caribbean is rife with them. These are a particularly ruthless and bloodthirsty lot and we need to put them down like the rabid vermin they are." And there it was. They wanted him to "put down" the rabid vermin. Need someone without a conscience? Bring Lockwood in. "I'm out of that business, Eastman." "We're only asking you to gather intelligence, Lockwood. See if you can find out where the pirates are based and who is feeding them information and ship movements. Find our leak. And plug it." "They aren't likely to be based at a single point. And you must know who their informants are by now." "Only that they are British." Hunt digested this information for a moment. "Why St. Claire and not Jamaica or Barbados?" "We already have operatives there, but they are making no headway. We need someone with a perfect right and reason toRanstrom, Gail is the author of 'Indiscretions', published 2006 under ISBN 9780373294244 and ISBN 0373294247.