Shortly thereafter, a tall, distinguished-looking man with gray hair and a grim expression walked over.
"Hello, Remington."
Leaning casually back in his chair, Rem acknowledged Sir Edmund Briggs with a professional nod. "Edmund. Have a seat."
Briggs complied, folding his hands on the table's rotted wooden surface. "I appreciate your coming out on a night like tonight."
"Your note made it seem rather urgent."
"It is." Briggs cleared his throat. "Before I begin, let me reiterate that you are free to elicit assistance from your usual sources." He inclined his head meaningfully toward the front of the tavern, and Boyd.
"I understand."
"Good. Then I'll get right to the point. Over the past six months a dozen British merchant ships have mysteriously disappeared, together with their cargoes and crews. Each of them was last seen in British waters."
"Mysteriously?" Rem jumped on Briggs's choice of words at once. "Does that mean your investigations have ruled out the obvious?"
"Evidently, yes. My men were extraordinarily thorough. All nations unfriendly to England have been scrutinized . . . and eliminated."
"Specifically?"
"We began, of course, with Napoleon, despite the fact that, as you know firsthand, his navy was virtually annihilated during the Battle of Trafalgar. We then investigated, not only France, but Spain, Portugal—Napoleon's entire European empire. We posted our men throughout the Strait of Gibraltar and in various points along the length of the Mediterranean and the Baltic." Briggs shook his head in frustration. "Nothing. Lastly, we considered the possibility of the Americans, although with the Treaty of Ghent scarcely signed, I am certain they have as little desire as we to initiate another war."
"And?"
"And it seems that not a single foreign vessel has been spied encroaching on British waters, nor have any of our missing ships appeared in enemy territory after their disappearance. Hence, if the British ships are falling prey to a hostile nation, that country is covering its tracks most brilliantly."
"Indeed." Rem lit a cheroot.
"We've also ruled out foul weather," Briggs added, anticipating Rem's next query. "In more than half the cases, the voyages were accompanied by fair skies and moderate winds . . . posing no threat to the safety of the ships or their crews."
Rem exhaled, wafts of smoke drifting into the already murky room. "What about the ships themselves? Were they built to specification? By whom?"
"Another impasse. The vessels were built, not by one, but by several different companies, all of them renowned and reliable."
"So," Rem mused thoughtfully, "if it wasn't our enemies, the elements, or inferior construction, then what—or who —caused the ships' disappearances?"
"Precisely the question. Of course, as we both know, the seas are swarming with smugglers. Perhaps—"
"Smugglers take booty; they don't seize vessels."
"I agree."
"Which leaves us with the ugly probability that our culprit is right here in England." Rem regarded his glowing ash with unruffled detachment. "Do you suspect anyone in particular?"
Briggs sighed. "To be frank, Remington, we are at our wits' end. Fear is growing, not only at the Admiralty, but throughout Parliament, to the Crown itself. With each lost vessel, the intelligence reports reaching Lloyd's grow more ominous, forcing our merchants and shipping companies to pay higher and higher insurance rates for their cargoes and the vessels that transport them.
"Should this atrocity continue, many merchants will be unable to meet the escalated insurance costs. Even those who can will find their goods too expensive for foreign buyers. In any case, the delicate balance of British trade will be threatened; trade that is the very backbone of the British empire. We cannot afford that risk—I needn't tell you that." With a quick, furtive look around, Briggs withdrew folded papers from the lining of his coat. "This is a list of the ships that have vanished, the companies who built them, their captains, cargo, and crew, and the dates and locations they were discovered missing. There's also a detailed accounting of the Admiralty's findings thus far."
Gravely, Briggs slid the documents over to Rem. "The Crown would like you to undertake your own investigation. The Admiralty will, of course, continue to employ conventional methods." Briggs gripped the table and leaned forward, his message clear, his urgency palpable. "We are counting on you to explore unconventional avenues. It is vital we locate the anonymous foe who is destroying our merchant fleet, and rid our country of this growing menace as soon as possible."
Rem brought his cheroot to his lips, inhaling for one long, thoughtful moment. Then he drew the papers toward him, perusing them quickly and efficiently. "Any limitations, land or sea?"
"None."
"My methods, my men."
"Agreed."