A conspiracy of paper: a novel - By David Liss Page 0,12

it. I’ll pay you twice as much as Wild would ask, for I want my money to land in an honest man’s hands. You will find this whore for me, and return to me my pocketbook and its contents, and I shall pay you fifty pounds. What say you, sir? Surely a pugilist like yourself is not afraid to cross Wild’s path?”

I felt an exuberance at the thought of so enormous a fee, for like almost everyone else in London, and indeed the nation itself, I maintained some uncomfortable debts. And like the Earl of Stanhope, our First Lord of the Treasury, I had grown considerably skilled at paying off a creditor here and there that I might avoid ruin and still maintain myself in a fashion I could not, in the strictest sense, afford. Fifty pounds would make an enormous impact on my little share of ready money, but even if the thought of so much money made me giddy, I showed Sir Owen only my cool determination. “I delight in crossing Wild’s path,” I promised him. Though Wild and I had met only once, our competition was a vigorous one, and I enjoyed nothing more than tracking down the goods his men stole. I made it my policy, when possible, to avoid impeaching thieves in Wild’s employ, for their master had no similar scruples, and my mercy toward these prigs had earned me some little gratitude.

Sir Owen smiled broadly. “I like a man of your spirit,” he said, and then grabbed my hand with a wrenching vigor.

I smiled as I governed my hand’s retreat from Sir Owen’s enthusiastic grip. “I shall make every effort to retrieve your possession with all haste and contact you the moment I have any news to report.”

Sir Owen stepped to the side of the path to let a handsome collection of young couples pass us. “I like you, Weaver,” he said. “I have never been a bigot in matters of religion, and now I can see why. What signifies whether or not a man eats pork? Get me my pocketbook, and I shall say you are as good a man as any and better than most.”

I sensed that I had been dismissed, so I bowed to Sir Owen and allowed him to walk over to a group of gentlemen of his acquaintance. I turned to make my way home, fired by a fierce determination to resolve Sir Owen’s matter as quickly and as efficiently as I might. I had such confidence in my skills that I considered his pocketbook as already in my possession. In my sanguine mood, such as I was, I could not have known that the business would erupt so dangerously.

THREE

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN a simple matter. I dressed the part of a gentleman—ostentatious coat and sword, overflowing wig, gleaming silver buckles upon my shoes. I had learned to appear the perfect gentleman when, in my less scrupulous days, I had spent some time traveling about the country working as what we called a spruce prig. I would present myself to a landlord like a gentleman, rent a furnished lodging with no more security than my appearance, and then proceed to clean the place of everything of value. Now, with more honorable motives, my task was to imitate a man of means in the service of undoing theft, and this task called for a particular sort of gentleman. I therefore put some padding about my midsection, making myself look more inclined to fat than muscle. Knowing that the evening would call for drunkenness, and that drunkenness was indeed the enemy, I fortified myself as best I could. I first took down as much cream as I might hold, for it would help to absorb the spirits I drank. Next I gargled with wine, and spilled some about my clothing, giving myself the scent of a man who required little more to render him senseless. Having thus prepared myself, I hired a hackney to take me to the alehouse, sat myself down in a well-lit spot, and boisterously called out for wine.

The Barrel and Bale was what one might expect of such places in the more colorful parts of town. It was near the river, close by the Temple Bar, but its patrons were mainly porters and journeymen, sprinkled with a few Templars looking for relief from their studies of the law. I stood out in this place, but I was not conspicuous. They had seen my type before—indeed, they had