Scales of Gold - Dorothy Dunnett [31]
‘I told you,’ said Nicholas. ‘I have come to success very young. I make mistakes. I am resented. I can only say, it will never happen again.’ He stopped. ‘If you want, I shall ask the Florentine to pack up and leave. I should see him, in any case.’
‘Oh, see him,’ she said. As the shock left her, some colour had returned to her face. She said, ‘The fault was that of the soldiers. I do not see how you could have prevented it. You tried to help.’
He waited. She said, ‘Your hands are cut. Go and see to the welfare of your man, and then come to the office. I see no reason to disturb our arrangement.’ He watched her turn and walk off. She had not waited for thanks. After a few paces he heard her say to someone, ‘He is there. But be quick about it. It is nearly time to let loose the dogs.’ He saw she was speaking to Julius.
Since he saw no point in returning to the house, and did not want to go to the booth, the conflict took place where he stood, in the darkening yard with its streams of hot and cold air, and its kernels of dull, glowing fire. Julius simply walked up and said, ‘The man you killed. He was a spy, not an assassin.’
‘The man I killed?’
‘You let him loose. You knew he was a spy. You guessed who paid him. You wanted to stop him confessing.’
‘Why should I want to do that?’ Nicholas said. He cast his mind back. During the chase, Julius must have questioned the soldiers. He hoped Julius was the only person they’d told.
Julius said, ‘Because you didn’t want his employers to guess what you were up to. Because you’re damned well afraid of his employers, as we all are, and have picked your own dirty way of dealing with them. That man is dead meat, and all the rest of him flayed into ribbons and wrapped round that foul stack of glassware, because he confessed to something you didn’t want known. You do know who employed him?’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas.
‘Well, so do I,’ Julius said. ‘He told the soldiers as soon as they touched him. He was paid by the nasty company you tricked into insuring your ship. The Vatachino told him to follow you.’
Nicholas didn’t reply.
Julius said, ‘So what was the secret you would go to those lengths to protect? Who is the Florentine?’
Sometimes, if you let Julius blow off enough steam, you could divert him. Nicholas said, ‘He’s a man working with glass. You know my plans for the island. They could still be upset, and the Signory won’t release a glassworking permit for anywhere else. I want to keep it quiet for a time, and it was worth holding the spy for a while on a more serious charge. Then it would have been dropped, and he would have gone free. That is all.’
‘You let him escape,’ Julius repeated.
‘I thought he was dead,’ Nicholas said. ‘Damn it, why should I let him escape and tell the Vatachino all he knew, when he was already as good as in prison? Look, do you think we could go in? I’ve got depositions to deal with, and I don’t want to be here when they let the dogs out. Even if you think it would be appropriate.’
‘Where is the Florentine?’ Julius said. It had been inevitable.
‘It’s a business secret,’ said Nicholas austerely.
Even in the dark, he could see Julius flush. Julius said, ‘I have shares in your God-damned Bank.’
‘Have you? Well,’ Nicholas said, ‘all right; but don’t tell the Charetty company.’ And he led Julius, expectant and softened, to the booth by the wall.
He wished that, sometimes, fate would settle for drama or comedy. He wished that the more difficult events of his life were not always in terrible juxtaposition to the ludicrous. He had fading hopes that, one day, he would wake up and find that he was firmly in one successful mode, and about to stay there. He reached the low booth and rapped on the closed shutters.
If he had been nervous of Nicholas before, the man inside was now frankly terrified. When he was persuaded at length to open the door, it was necessary to spend quite some time explaining the running about and the shouting. To make it worse, as they were speaking the dogs began barking