By the time they returned to the house with a detachment of officers and agents, it was empty. The disarray left behind indicated the women vacated hastily.

Sir Barnabas didn’t say a word as he stood there looking around the empty house. Only the one finger tapping against his thigh gave evidence of his agitation. “Tell me again exactly what they said.” He looked at Simon.

“I don’t work for you,” Simon said. The casualness of his reply astounded Robert. He knew they were old acquaintances, but Sir Barnabas James was one of the most powerful men in England. The only man he answered to was Sir Robert Peel. Surely even Simon couldn’t get away with that level of disrespect.

“My dear, misguided Mr. Gantry,” Sir Barnabas said in a silky voice, all the more frightening for its even tone, “now that this has become a matter of national security, everyone works for me. Including you. Welcome back to the Home Office. Now, tell me again what they said.”

“The pay had better have improved then,” Simon said insolently. “Last time I was paid approximately nothing. My price has gone up.”

Sir Barnabas took a deep breath through his nose and his eyes narrowed just slightly. “Why are you here again?” he asked. He looked at Robert and demanded, “Is he working for the police?”

“Steinberg sent him,” Hastings told him. He was sitting on the edge of a table, looking bored. He still had dried blood on the corner of his mouth. Robert pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to him, pointing to his own mouth. Hastings shrugged and licked the corner gingerly before wiping it.

Sir Barnabas pinched the bridge of his nose. “I see. Why?”

“I think because he was worried about the constable,” Hastings said.

“What?” Robert asked, surprised. “Surely Daniel knows I can take care of myself.”

“Ordinarily yes,” Simon said with a sigh. He pointed at Hastings. “But not with such an unpredictable companion.”

“Thought I’d get you killed I reckon,” Hastings said with an unrepentant grin. “Or kill you myself.” He shrugged. “Either way.”

“So, still doing favors for approximately nothing?” Sir Barnabas asked Simon, who had the grace to blush.

Robert was furious. “That is ridiculous, and if you had told me when you first arrived that that was why you were there, I would have sent you right back to Daniel. I do not need protection from Hastings or anyone else.” He stood up straight. “I am a very good police officer, regardless of what you apparently think of me. I have an exemplary arrest record, and I have, on occasion, been able to get myself out of a scrape or two. I do not need you to come riding to my rescue. Good God, man! You’ve only just been rescued yourself from a Barbary prison. You are in no condition to protect anyone. While I will admit that your advice and experience were much appreciated this evening, on more than one occasion I had to protect you.”

“That is false,” Simon said, clearly fighting for calm. “I let you think you were protecting me, but frankly I thought your efforts were amusing considering my own extensive skill set at getting myself and others out of scrapes, as you put it. Between your complete lack of experience at skulking and your”—he pointed at Hastings—“predilection for attempting to kill someone everywhere you go, I am the only reason we have this information.”

“That is going a bit far, old man,” Robert said with dignity. “I was beside you the whole night. I insisted on watching the house instead of barging in there in the first place, and I was certainly the one who managed to open that window. With your back you can barely open a door.”

“What do you know of my back?” Simon asked. “Did Daniel tell you?”

“No one told me anything until you, just now,” Robert said. “You’ve just confirmed what I’ve been observing for two days. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but it’s clearly hurt. I assume from your ordeal in Africa.”

“Damn it—”

Sir Barnabas cut Simon off. “They branded his back in Africa. Now, while I am thoroughly enjoying watching you gentlemen flirt, let us get down to business, shall we? Exactly what information were you both instrumental in getting this evening?” He looked at Hastings. “I don’t suppose you heard it, too? Or is that asking too much?”

“I know the Dutchman had a network of spies and the whores killed them all,” Hastings said. “And since one of them tried to slice my throat and gave me a good beating in the process, I believe it. If you can turn that one, you’ll have a prize.”

“Useless. What else?” Sir Barnabas was tapping that finger again.

Robert had been rendered speechless by Sir Barnabas’s accusation. He had never flirted with a man in his life. How could arguing with Simon be misconstrued as flirting? One was an art, the other was the result of unfiltered emotion. Robert had never mastered the art of flirting. And branded? Like cattle? Or a slave? The very notion turned his stomach. How was Simon even on his feet?

“Apparently she’s got all the messages she intercepted from the couriers,” Simon told Sir Barnabas tightly. “And according to her it tells quite a tale. Embedded spies and assassination, as we said. We don’t know who, we don’t know when, we don’t know where.”

“She wants to join forces,” Robert said, feeling he should add something to the conversation. “She wants to give him her network of spies, her girls, since she’s eliminated his. But,” he added, “I don’t think that’s plausible now and I’m sure they both will realize it. We didn’t hide our arrival here. They know someone overheard. The only salient information we gleaned was to be on the lookout for a new network of female spies. Ergo, they are no longer as useful as they might have been had we not learned of their existence.”

“What do you mean?” Simon said.

“The Dutchman said the boys were overlooked by the British authorities, who never suspected a thing. That’s what made them a valuable network. The women, particularly young women, would have been the same. Would your first suspect be a woman, Sir Barnabas? A serving woman, most likely? A maid or cook or washerwoman?”

“No,” Sir Barnabas admitted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hastings said. “They’ve got a use for those women, even if they can’t use them as spies anymore.”

“What?” Robert asked, puzzled.

“Assassins,” Hastings said, looking at Robert’s now bloody handkerchief. “They’ve gotten very good at killing, haven’t they?”

Robert looked around the room and he saw his own dawning understanding on the faces of Simon and Sir Barnabas. Finding a female assassin, God knows where in London, hunting God knows who, was an impossible task. Gargantuan in scope and a logistical nightmare.

“Then we shall find the Dutchman,” Robert said to himself.

“What?” Sir Barnabas asked sharply.

“We all know finding the assassin is impossible right now. But finding the Dutchman should be much simpler. Yes?”

Sir Barnabas smiled at him. “Yes.” He turned and spoke to a man who had been standing off to the side, taking notes. He pointed at Robert. “He works for me now. Notify his superiors. Until further notice.” He turned back to the room. “Mr. Longfellow, I’ll need you to keep working the murders. I’ll notify your superiors that you are to take the lead on the investigation. You three.” He pointed at Hastings, Robert and Simon. “Your priority is finding the Dutchman.”

He turned and began to walk out of the room. “Clean this up,” he said to his secretary, who snapped his fingers. Men immediately began moving silently through the house, removing everything. Robert was stunned at the efficiency of it.

“But—” He started to protest Sir Barnabas’s highhandedness, but Simon stopped him with an outstretched hand.

“Don’t bother,” he said, resigned. “He gets what he wants. And isn’t it what you want? To find the Dutchman? To catch the killers?” He shrugged. “When it’s over, we’ll all go back to our lives and he’ll clean up any mess he’s made. It’s how he operates. His interest is immediate. He can’t worry about the future when so much is at stake in the present.”

“Exactly,” Sir Barnabas said over his shoulder. He turned his head and once again pinned them all with his predator’s gaze. “Watch your backs, gentlemen. They know they are being hunted. And they are not used to being the prey.”

He looked at Hastings. “They know you now. Soon they will know all of you. It is inevitable.” He turned away and put his hat on. “Find the Dutchman as quickly as you can.”