Page 26 of Glasgow Rogue

He took a small, black leather notebook from the satchel he carried and smiled as he thumbed through it one final time, noting the entry dates of gold received and the investments made.

Once Haines was convicted, that money would be turned over to the Crown.

Kingsley had originally thought perhaps Haines would have hidden the little book behind a false compartment in the desk.

That search had turned up nothing, so while Haines had been at the Monday night meeting at Walker’s Hotel, Kingsley had picked the lock to the flat where the man lived and found it stashed behind books on a shelf.

How predictable. But then, most criminals were.

Kingsley moved to the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. He pushed the notebook toward the back and covered it loosely with papers. Not visible, but it would be found when MacQuarrie’s men searched the place.

Closing the drawer, he walked into the warehouse and looked around.

Tobacco leaves lay strewn everywhere along with cracked and splintered barrels from yesterday’s raid.

The gold, of course, had been taken away.

Kingsley didn’t have time to open the boxes and crates that had not yet been searched, but the bolts of woolens were wrapped only in linen cloth to keep them clean.

Reaching into his satchel again, he withdrew two dozen sealed packets of opium powder—the smuggler who had been questioned had been most generous in turning over the stuff—and started sliding the small sacks between layers of wool.

Even though there was enough evidence from the barley shipments to brand Haines a criminal, Kingsley liked to hedge his bets.

He was nothing if not thorough. Lord Liverpool might not be able to hang the label of treason on Haines, but this incident would send a strong message to those contemplating rebellion.

Kingsley looked around the warehouse to make sure he had left nothing behind to indicate he had been here. Then he turned and slipped out the door, latching it behind him.

His work at Haines Consolidated was done. It was time to move on to another target.

****

“’Tis a lot of unrest about town,” Owen said Saturday evening as the group had once again convened in the private parlor after dinner. “Every place I went, I heard nothing but talk of what’s happened.”

“I heard the same on the quay today,” Niall said. “The warehouse workers did nae lose any time spreading the word to the dockhands that everything has been torn apart inside the building and that they did nae get paid Friday.”

“I kenned they would be angry.” Annie sighed. “I probably should have ignored the sign and gone into the office—”

“Nae!” Niall nearly growled the word. They’d argued all the way home yesterday, but not a word of what he said had sunk in, apparently. “Do ye want to be sitting in gaol as well?”

Annie frowned, looking as though she were about to start the argument all over again when Aidan interrupted.

“’Tis to be expected the workers are angry, but right now, ye can do nothing to help them.” He turned to Owen. “What sort of unrest are ye referring to?”

“And where did ye hear it?” Niall asked.

“Various places,” Owen answered. “I had lunch at Walker’s Hotel. The overall tone of the conversations was surprise that Haines had been smuggling.”

“That is an understatement,” Annie said wryly. “I still can nae believe Mr. Haines was doing such a thing.”

“Smuggling is nae that uncommon. The wars with France and the States have caused tariffs to rise excessively. People are not happy with the English government and do not want to pay the high taxes on goods they need.” Owen shrugged.

“Men are out of work too, so smuggling provides an income. They get a percent of the goods and the other people avoid the revenue man.”

“Well, Mr. Haines did nae avoid Tevis Shaw,” Annie said. “I wonder how he found out.”

Owen nodded. “That is the question Kingsley brought up.”

“Kingsley?” Annie asked. “Where did ye see him?”

“At Walker’s.”

“I guess he is nae longer sick then.”

“He did not seem to be, although he said he could have kicked himself for not being there to help Haines when the magistrate arrived.”

Annie shook her head. “There was nae much he could have done.”

“Probably not,” Owen agreed, “but he was also upset that he has, more than likely, lost his job.”

“He is nae the only one.” Niall looked at Owen. “Where else did ye go?”

“Well, the Trades Hall and Merchants House were closed since it is Saturday,” Owen answered, “but the taverns were full of tradesmen.”

“What did they say?” Aidan asked.

“I cannot repeat the language.” Owen glanced at Annie and her mother. “But they are all angry as well. The main concern is when the warehouse will reopen.”

“Or if it will reopen,” Aidan said.

Annie stared at him. “What do ye mean, if? There are goods stored and ships due in.”

“Aye, but if MacQuarrie and Shaw find any other goods being used in smuggling, those goods will be confiscated.”

“Mr. Haines could nae have used all the stock for smuggling purposes,” Annie said.

“We doona ken that,” Niall said.

Aidan gave him a sharp look. “Do ye think any of our kelp bales have been involved?”

“I doona ken,” Niall answered. “Robert’s only used this warehouse a short time. Since I have been here, I’ve inspected our bales. I dinnae see anything, but then, we did nae suspect anything wrong with the barley barrels either.”

“But your kelp?” Annie asked.

“I hope nae,” Niall answered, “but who kens what has been used?”

“But…” Annie paused and her eyes grew round. “The weavers’ union just delivered near a hundred bolts of woolens to be sent to France. If those doona get delivered, the mills will nae pay the weavers.”

Silence met that remark. Niall looked at the grim expressions of his brother and MacLean. All three of them had realized that possibility after listening to the talk on the streets. He just wished Annie hadn’t figured it out.

“’Tis nae need to fash,” he said, although he knew he sounded like a hypocrite. “We cannae do anything until Monday when the magistrate’s office will be open.”

Annie wasn’t about to be pacified though. With a deliberately willful look in her eye, she raised her chin. “And what if Mr. MacQuarrie keeps the office closed? Or confiscates everything in it? What will the workers and the weavers do then?”

****

“Ye are going to wear tracks on my carpet, pacing like ye do,” Annie’s mother said to her Monday morning as they awaited word about the warehouse opening.

Annie sank into a parlor chair, then popped back up. “I cannae sit still. I should have gone with the men.”

“Nae,” her mother replied. “Niall was right. We doona ken what the decision will be or the reaction to it.”

“I would have been safe with three Highlanders escorting me,” Annie said stubbornly.

“Even armed as they are, they cannae take on several scores of angry men.”

“But why would they be angry with me?” Annie asked. “’Tis nae my fault the warehouse is closed.”

Mrs. Ferguson shook her head. “An angry man does nae think clearly and is nae ruled by logic. Ye put together a crowd of angry men and they become a mob that doesn’t listen to reason. ’Tis why the witches were burned.”

Annie blinked. “Are ye talking about what happened one hundred and fifty years ago? ’Twas madness!”

“Aye, it was madness,” her mother replied, “but it did nae stop those poor women to be put to death here in Scotland and also in the States.”

“Well, we are more civilized now.”

Before her mother could answer, Niall came into the room. From the grim look on his face, Annie knew the news wasn’t good. “The warehouse is remaining closed?”

He nodded and went to stand by the window. “Everything has been confiscated as well.”

“But why? ’Twas only the barley barrels that were used.”

“It seems nae just them,” Niall said. “MacQuarrie’s men found additional opium hidden in the bolts of woolens—”

“That cannae be! I checked those bolts myself when they came in,” Annie said.

A muscle twitched in Niall’s jaw. “Aye. One of the weavers brought that up.”

“That clears the weavers, then,” Annie said.

Niall hesitated. “But it does nae clear ye.”

Annie frowned. “What do ye mean?”

“Someone put that opium inside the bolts. Haines swore he hadn’t been in the warehouse since the woolens were delivered.”

“He is nae lying about that,” Annie said. “The wool came in Wednesday afternoon. I was already in the office Thursday morning when Mr. Haines arrived ”

“That does nae help ye,” Niall said, his face growing dark. “And Kingsley? He was ill Thursday morning. Was he at the warehouse Wednesday after the wool came in?”

“Aye. He counted the bolts.”

Niall brightened. “Was he still in the warehouse when I came for ye?”

Annie thought a moment. “Nae. He said something about his horse having thrown a shoe that morning and he wanted to get to the farrier’s.”

“Damnation.” He glanced out the window and then turned back. “I need for ye to pack a bag. I am taking ye away from here.”

“Why? I have naught to hide.”

“I ken that, but ’tis nae the point. Ye had the opportunity to—”

“But I didnae! I—”

“For once, doona argue with me.” Niall gave her an exasperated look. “The men were getting riled up when I left. ’Tis why I left. If they turn into a mob…”

“Niall is right,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “Ye will be safer away from here until tempers cool down.”

“But I—”

“Will ye at least listen to your mother if ye will nae listen to me?” Niall glanced out the window again. “I expect Aidan or MacLean to be here any minute with more news. I’m going to go saddle two horses. When I come back in, I want ye ready to leave.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Annie stared after him and then looked at her mother. “Do ye really think this is that serious?”

“I saw a riot once in Edinburgh. It was nae pretty. I would rather have ye safe.” Her mother bit her lip. “I trust the Highlander.”

Annie hesitated a moment, then nodded and went upstairs to gather her things.

She changed into breeches and a linen shirt and pulled on a man’s jacket.

It was an outfit she’d used several times when she and other members of her club wanted to travel incognito on the streets.

She stuffed a couple of dresses and some necessary articles into her portmanteau.

Just as she finished pinning up her hair, she heard a commotion outside.

Her window looked into the alley and she couldn’t tell what was making the noise.

Grabbing her bag and a cap, she went down the steps to find Owen in fast conversation with Niall while Aidan stood at the front door.

“What is happening?” Annie asked, trying to peer around Aidan.

“’Tis nae time to explain,” Niall said. “There is a mob on the way.”

“But—”

Owen turned to her, his burr evident. “’Tis talk of lynching. This place is nae fortress. We can hold them off for only so long. Ye need to go.”

“It may be too late,” Aidan said from the doorway and pulled his sword. “The men are here.”

Owen drew his sword and joined him.

“The back door! Quickly!” Annie’s mother said, but Niall was already heading that way. “I’ll latch it behind ye.”

Annie and Niall were halfway to the horses when two men slipped into the alley, blocking their path. She saw two silver flashes as Niall’s knives hurled through the air and found their marks. Both men dropped. Annie froze at the sight of blood gushing from the wounds.

“Nae now, lass.” Niall turned her with a gentle push. “Get to the horses. I’m going to retrieve my blades.”

He had just sheathed them and turned around when three more men came into the alley and jumped him.

Dropping her portmanteau, Annie mounted her mare and took the reins of Niall’s gelding.

The sounds of fists thudding against bones and flesh amid grunts and groans was sickening.

From the tangle of men—three down and two still fighting Niall—she could not tell who was winning. But she had to do something.

Remembering Niall had compared her to Boudicca, she pulled down her cap and let out what she hoped was a war cry, charging toward them with the horses.