Chapter 80
By the time Neville emerged from the narrow doorway of the establishment, the last rays of sunlight had begun to wane.
The sky still held a pale trace of daylight, but the shadows between the buildings had lengthened, and lamps were being lit one by one along the thoroughfare.
Neville paused on the pavement.
He did not immediately cross the street. Instead, he looked first to one end of the road, then the other, his gaze lingering on the handful of pedestrians moving along the pavement.
He appeared no different from any other man returning home, though there was something purposefully cautious in the way he surveyed his surroundings.
Only when he seemed satisfied that no one had followed him did he turn toward the carriage waiting across the street.
He crossed at a brisk pace, climbed inside, and shut the door behind him.
Draven sat beside Nicholas, both men having waited in silence for his arrival. Neville nodded his head to them in greeting before settling onto the empty seat opposite them.
"My apologies for keeping you waiting, Your Grace."
Draven’s gaze trailed down the man’s body before he lifted his hand. He knocked on the roof of the carriage three times to get the coachman’s attention. "Take us to the coffee house at Belgrave Row."
The carriage lurched forward almost immediately as the coachman received the instruction. The wheels rolled over the cobbles, carrying them away from the busier street.
Neville leaned back, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath before beginning his report.
"I looked into Samuel Laci, as you instructed."
Draven’s attention had not left the man since he joined them. He had also been unable to put Laci’s name out of his mind since his morning outing with Cassandra two days ago.
Until then, Samuel Laci had been nothing more than a name. That had changed since meeting him.
Now, he was able to put a face to the name and could tug on threads of connection, no matter how faint they might be.
"Mr. Laci owns several warehouses in the port district," Neville continued. "Most are leased to other merchants. The money he makes from that alone is substantial. Enough to keep a man very comfortable."
"I take it the warehouse where your men found the guns is also owned by Laci?" Draven asked. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the rough bristles there. He was due another shave.
Neville nodded. "Precisely."
"Who was leasing it?" This time it was Nicholas who asked the question.
"A merchant named Tim Barrow. He took the lease several months before the seizure. His business appeared legitimate enough, at least on paper. Importing manufactured goods from the south of the continent."
The carriage continued through the streets, its rhythmic movement a comfort to Draven’s churning thoughts.
There was a distinction between renting out a warehouse and knowingly allowing smugglers to use it. A man who leased commercial property could not possibly know what every tenant did behind closed doors.
Laci could therefore claim ignorance if questioned, and unless there was something more substantial tying him to the operation, Draven would have little grounds to accuse him.
But the circumstances remained troublesome.
"How long was Barrow there?"
"Six months."
"And where is he now?"
Neville’s lips thinned. It was such a subtle gesture that most people would have overlooked it, but Draven had found himself becoming increasingly attentive to the man’s mannerisms in the time they had known each other.
Those little tells made reading a man like Neville considerably easier. That particular one told Draven all he needed to know: Neville did not have the answer, and he was far from pleased about it.
"That is where it becomes interesting. Barrow disappeared shortly after the seizure. His warehouse accounts were closed, his remaining goods were sold, and he left the capital."
"Did anyone see him leave, or know where he went?"
"Unfortunately not. We are still trying to track him down." Neville said. "Once we have him, we can get a full confession. It might even help us find the identity of this elusive broker."
"What about Laci’s other warehouses?"
"There was nothing suspicious in the ones we managed to break into. His business is extensive, and he deals with a considerable number of merchants. Most of what we found is perfectly legitimate."
Draven nodded slowly.
That was precisely the problem with men like Laci. A legal business could provide an excellent shield for less respectable dealings. Legitimate transactions could conceal illegitimate ones, and a man who kept enough clean accounts could afford to have a few dirty ones buried beneath them.
"And his connection to Ashford?" Draven asked. "What do you have for me on that front?"
Just the act of voicing it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He dreaded the answer he might receive but he still had to know regardless.
"Laci has done business with Nathaniel Ashford for several years. Nothing unusual from what we have found. They have exchanged goods through several commercial houses and they also seem to be quite fond of each other."
It was nothing Draven did not already know, yet he still found himself breathing a sigh of relief.
Without a doubt, he intended to aid his wife-to-be in whatever revenge plot she had planned for her family. He had practically offered himself up as a weapon for her to wield the moment he signed that blasted marriage contract.
He simply preferred that she stay out of the crossfire. Unfortunately, that might prove impossible if her family was involved with the very criminals Draven was investigating.
Nathaniel Ashford was a wealthy man with extensive commercial interests. There was nothing suspicious about him knowing a wealthy merchant such as Laci.
Even Cassandra had spoken of their acquaintance without the slightest indication that she suspected anything.
Still, something didn’t sit right.
Perhaps he was allowing his connection to her to cloud his judgement.
Draven had no intention of making that mistake again.
"Keep looking into Laci. Do it discreetly," he said. "Wouldn’t want him catching on to what we are up to and covering his tracks."
Neville nodded his head. "Understood."
When the carriage made a sharp turn down a bend on the road, Neville glanced through the window to see that they were no longer far from his stop, where they would have to part ways soon.