“You sold your soul to the Devil himself,” Barnaby growled.
Noah shrugged unconcernedly, and didn’t attempt to defend himself.
“Why? You could have retired with dignity. You had a sterling reputation behind you. Everyone looked up to you. Everyone relied on you. Why would you do this?” Barnaby demanded.
“Phah!” Noah spat. “I had no
thing. The Star Elite took and took but gave me what? I had a small amount to live off that would barely keep a pauper alive. Who can live on a reputation? It will buy me no credit anywhere. For all of my life I have slaved for the War Office and what have they done for me?”
“They have paid you a wage,” Barnaby countered.
“What else? I have scars,” Noah tapped the side of his head. “Up here. What else do I have, eh? Nothing. That’s what I have. It is no good expecting Sir Hugo to provide for me when I am too old to see straight or too aged to walk anywhere. Your blasted Star Elite will be no good to me then.”
“We always look after our own,” Barnaby murmured. “It is up to you to make provision for your aged years, Noah, not the Star Elite. You must have earned a lot of money over the years. Was it not enough?”
A crafty look shimmered over Noah’s face and turned it as cruel as the look in his eye. “I have a lot more now thanks to Sayers.”
Barnaby cursed. “You turned your back on all of us and tried to feed us to the wolves.”
“I haven’t done any such thing,” Noah argued. “I just told Chadwick and Sayers a few things I thought they might find helpful. They paid me far more handsomely for my troubles than the Star Elite ever has. I cannot be held responsible for what Sayers does with the information I give him.”
“They know about the safe houses, and what we are all doing. Sir Hugo trusted you,” Barnaby snapped. “We all trusted you, yet you are prepared to allow any one of us to be killed – murdered in cold blood – just to get coins in your pouch. God, you are a disgrace man; an utter disgrace,” Barnaby snapped.
“Who is going to declare my misdeeds to the world?” Noah mused.
Barnaby snorted. “I am not keeping silent for you. You might have shunned the Star Elite, but I haven’t. Not even you can stop me from putting you and Chadwick behind bars.”
“I am not going to gaol,” Noah snapped. “There is no man alive who can put me there.”
“We can’t let you get away with this, Noah,” Barnaby murmured. It galled him to have to admit that trusting Noah had been a gross error in judgement but it had.
“I already have,” Noah boasted proudly.
“I am going to have to arrest you,” Barnaby said calmly but firmly.
“You have to kill me first.”
“We know Sayers is the Count, and Chadwick is throwing a lot of money into trying to find Mainton. They have money to burn,” Barnaby murmured, testing just how much Noah knew about their operation.
“They are earning a lot of money. Their network goes far wider than you realise. I am not the only one feeding them information, so don’t give me that look,” Noah snapped, shifting slightly beneath Barnaby’s contemptuous look.
“So there are more traitors in the War Office.” It wasn’t a question.
“Anybody can be bought for the right price, Barnaby - even you. They will pay you handsomely if you hand the chit over to them; far more than they pay me but I don’t mind. They just want her to tell them what she knows that’s all. Then you can have her back.” Noah looked meaningfully at the bed. “It seems that she has a lot of uses.”
Barnaby’s lip curled in a snarl of rage. “Rose isn’t like that. It is only just dawn, man. She was asleep. I was out on the street as you know fighting people who want me dead, so get your mind out of the gutter.”
He watched Noah’s face harden even more, and wondered just what else the captain had gotten himself into in order to make some quick money. He began to wonder just what else Noah carried on that ship of his. Stolen goods, maybe? Sayers’ men? Armaments?
“So, where have you ditched your vessel?” Barnaby asked. “For a sailor you certainly spend a lot of time on shore. I cannot help but wonder if you are lazy, or poor at what you do. You belong in Sayers’ world of cut-throats and thieves, on dry land. It is a good thing that you do prefer to be landlocked. I am sure you will fit in well in your new life behind bars.”
Barnaby saw the knife fly across the room and threw himself sideways to avoid it. He looked at the blade now embedded in the dresser and pushed to his feet in time to receive Noah’s flying tackle. It slammed him onto his back in the middle of the room and left him gasping for breath. That slight delay while Barnaby tried to breathe gave Noah an advantage and he wasted no time in trying to throttle Barnaby.
Barnaby looked up and saw the feral rage in Noah’s eyes as he wrestled with the clawed hands Noah tried to wrap around his neck. There was a maniacal glint in the seaman’s eyes that was deeply disturbing. It made Barnaby wonder, for the first time in his life, if his last day was upon him. With his injured arm he certainly didn’t have the strength to fight Noah’s wild determination. He needed some help to fight the man off, but there was none nearby. All of the available men were searching the streets for Chadwick, and Reg and Ben had just taken Rose out of the way.
“Damn you,” Barnaby whispered through clenched teeth.
Noah merely grinned unrepentantly.