Recipe for Treason by Andrea Penrose Read Free Book Online

smile did not belie the sarcasm shading his reply.
    “Excellent, Colonel.” Saybrook parried with his own edge of steel. “You have a young man by the name of Angus MacPhearson incarcerated in Inverness prison. I want him released without delay.”
    Stoughton’s eyes narrowed. “That would require an order from the highest authorities at Horse Guards.”
    “So it would.” The earl took a packet from his coat pocket, its outer wrapping festooned with ornate wax seals, and held it out. “I trust you will find everything in order here.”
    The colonel reluctantly took it.
    Saybrook returned his attention to Rollins. “You have yet to answer my question about the university.”
    Grentham’s operative flicked a quick look at Stoughton, who gave a barely perceptible nod to proceed.
    Clearing his throat, Rollins grudgingly complied. “It’s been fairly quiet since we rounded up the rabble and locked them away. I’ve caught wind of some conversations that make me think a new print shop for seditious pamphlets is being set up somewhere by a new group of student radicals.”
    “Anything else?” prodded the earl.
    Another sullen silence. “As I said, it would help if I knew what, specifically, you were looking for.”
    “And as I said, that is confidential information.” The earl made to turn. “If you’ve nothing more to add, I suggest we call an end to this meeting. Neither of us will be of any use to the ministry if we are spotted in a clandestine meeting by the locals.”
    “But first we had better set a time for the next rendezvous—” began Rollins.
    “There will be no set meetings,” interrupted Saybrook. “If I have need of anything from you, I shall contrive to pass you a message in your bookstore without attracting undue attention. And if you have any urgent information to convey to me, send a book to my lodgings, along with a note inviting me to share a wee dram at a certain hour. We are, after all, going to pretend to form a scholarly friendship over your inventory of books.”
    He paused, drawing out the sliver of silence. “By the by, I’ve read several of the dispatches you have sent to London. You really ought to use a less primitive code than a simple Caesar shift.”
    Rollins spit on the earthen floor. “It’s not as if the local Scots would have a clue as to how to puzzle out the meaning. They are naught but hairy savages . . .” He grunted some low, feral animal sounds. “A primitive people, little better than animals. It’s a pity that the Duke of Cumberland didn’t slaughter them all after the Battle of Culloden.”
    Stoughton laughed, leaving Saybrook and Henning standing in stony silence as he and Rollins traded a few more disparaging quips.
    “Shutter your light. We are leaving,” snapped the earl at Rollins, as soon as the last chortle died away. To Stoughton, he said, “I shall expect to have MacPhearson delivered to me without delay.”
    The colonel wordlessly tucked the packet from London into his cloak pocket.
    Saybrook waited until darkness shrouded the warehouse before moving to the door, with Henning right on his heels.
    A blade of light appeared for an instant and then disappeared, followed by a soft snick as the latch fell back into place.
    Outside, fog swirled over the narrow walkway in silvery waves, muddling the scudding moonlight with the yawing shadows of the buildings. The sound of the sea breaking against the rocky shore drowned the sound of their steps on the cobblestones as Saybrook and Henning hurried across the deserted street. Hats pulled low, heads bent to the gusty wind, they passed through several winding alleys before pausing to survey the surroundings.
    Satisfied that they hadn’t been followed, they slipped out onto Pends Road, keeping close to the looming cathedral walls.
    It was only after they turned yet another corner onto South Street that the surgeon expelled a low hiss through his clenched teeth. The vapor rose like steam from a kettle on