Harry stared at Ben, then looked at Gervase. “Ed’ll say we found it in the middle—that way they’ll have to search up and down the whole cove.”
Gervase raised his brows; he nodded slowly. “All right—let’s say that’s what happens. Our villain will keep Edmond while his men search—he’ll keep him until his cargo’s found. Edmond is now his hostage in a way—he won’t harm him.”
“No.” Dalziel caught Madeline’s eyes. “Harming the b
oy won’t figure in his plans. Even if Edmond sees his face, from what we’ve learned from others there’s nothing to distinguish him from countless other gentlemen, so that won’t place Edmond at greater risk. Our man is too fly to unnecessarily commit murder.” He looked at Gervase. “So at this moment we have our villainous friend and Edmond at Kynance Cove, and he’ll be busy searching there long enough for us to capture him. How do we accomplish that?”
Everyone was nodding in agreement.
“Maps?” Charles raised a brow at Harry.
“I’ll get them.” Harry rose and left.
Madeline hugged Ben closer. He looked up at her and grinned. “Ed’ll be all right—you’ll see. Gervase and the others will get him back.”
The confidence shining in Ben’s big eyes made Madeline smile, and surreptitiously blink.
Harry arrived with the maps. The men pulled a table to the center of the floor and stood around it, Gervase tracing the roads, pointing out the Park, the castle and Kynance Cove. “This is the place, but the cliffs are all but barren—totally devoid of cover. They’ll be able to see us approaching from miles away, so that’s not an option.”
Dalziel frowned. “But they’ll be down in the cove searching and they don’t know we’re coming—will they think to post lookouts?”
“No question of lookouts at the moment,” Abel put in, “nor of them being down on the sands.”
They all turned to stare at him. He blinked, then looked at Gervase. “Tide’s in. Kynance beach will be under water for the rest of the day—no way to search until the waves draw back, and they won’t until after sunset.”
“So they’ll be up on the cliffs, looking down, unable to search?” Christian asked.
Abel nodded.
Silence fell; the men exchanged glances, rejigging their ideas.
“He won’t wait.” Dalziel shook his head. “He’ll search at night. Waiting even until first light will cut his time too short—he won’t risk anyone catching up with him. And the longer he stays in the area, the greater the risk someone will notice, and he’ll instantly see that being at the very tip of the Lizard Peninsula, in that cove, is a trap of sorts just waiting to be sprung.”
“We can certainly seal the area off,” Charles said, studying the map anew. “If we put men on the road up from Lizard Point, he’ll drive right into their arms.”
“Especially as he won’t know they’re there,” Christian said.
Madeline noticed that Dalziel was not so much pacing as circling, a panther deciding when and how to spring. Gervase, on the other hand, had grown still, but it was an intense stillness she now recognized as ruthlessly contained tension. Like her, he was quivering to be off, to do, but he knew how to control the impulse to action, how to manage it.
Evenly she said, “If they can’t go down to the cove, but will as soon as the tide retreats, then they’ll be waiting on the cliffs—they’ll be able to see us when we’re literally miles away, and have plenty of time to…react.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Edmond will be in too much danger, of being whisked away at the very least, if we try to surround them now, while it’s daylight.”
The men all looked at her, all considered. None argued.
“We need a plan.” Dalziel flung himself into his chair. “Let’s assume he waits with his little band on the cliffs until the tide turns and it’s night, then he goes down, taking Edmond with him, and they start searching—that’s when we close in. So”—he looked up at Gervase—“how do we do that?”
The others resumed their seats, all except Charles, studying the map. Muriel touched Madeline’s sleeve, whispered she was going to check on Crimms, and left. Madeline listened as the men tossed around options—the men they could muster, how best to split them up, how best to converge on the cove—
Abel coughed, and caught Gervase’s eye. “One problem you ain’t taking into account.” Gervase raised a brow; Abel continued, “It’ll be a wreckers’ moon tonight.”
Gervase stared at him, then softly swore, surged to his feet and went to look out of the bow window, searching the western sky. “He’s right. The wind’s turned and there’s a storm blowing in.”
“Aye—the clouds will cover the moon, and the wind’s in the right quarter to blow ships onto the reef off Kynance.” Abel grimaced. “And as they’ve had no chance yet this season, no question but that that crew, whoever they be, will be out there tonight, setting false beacons on the headlands, doing their damnedest to lure some poor unsuspecting captain in. Which’ll mean they’ll be up on the cliffs themselves tonight.” Abel looked at Dalziel. “I don’t care how many London bully boys your man has with him, he’ll not get anywhere near Kynance once the sun goes down.”
Christian raised his brows. “Can we leave it to the wreckers to keep him from the cove?”
“No.” Dalziel’s voice was flat and cold. “He’ll recruit them. He’s never been slow to use others. He’ll offer them sure cash, and all they’ll have to do for it will be to join his men and search—not even chance their regular work.”
Abel slowly nodded. “Not that I know any of ’em, mind, but I’ve heard it said that if you offer them hard coin, they’ll kill their own mother.”