“The Orient Trading Company appears to be a legitimate enterprise, at least on the surface, with reputable legal representatives. As to the nature of its business, I’ve sent out inquiries, but have yet to hear more.”
“We’ve found a set of books that Randall kept—they appear to be the accounts, income and expenses, and so on, of the Orient Trading Company, but even though we’ve only started looking through them, all the entries are in some sort of code—as if they’re payments to and from various sources but with only initials identifying the sources, and no indication of what goods were traded.”
Montague frowned. “That sounds like an amateurish method of account keeping, but it doesn’t preclude what I’ve said—the company may still be entirely legitimate, just run very privately and secretively.”
“Randall was nothing if not secretive, so that’s no surprise.” Christian thought, then said, “It might be best if you concentrate first on identifying the other owners.”
“The beneficial owners.” Picking up a pen, Montague made a note.
“Just so. And it would be helpful if you could verify the company’s income, at least to the extent of confirming whether it was profitable or not. After that, if we still have no clue as to what the company’s business consists of, we’ll need you to delve deeper. We’ll see what we can learn from the books first, but it might well be that they’ll only increase the mystery.”
Montague nodded. “Rest assured I’ll give these matters my fullest attention.”
His enthusiastic tone made Christian smile; as he stood, he remarked, “You seem to enjoy these forays into investigation.”
“Oh, I do.” Montague pushed back his chair and rose. “Indeed, I will admit I live for the unusual queries you and some of my other clients bring me from time to time. They lend spice to the mundane accounting and investing that otherwise is my bread and butter. While sustaining, bread and butter and nothing else can be rather dull.” Smiling, Montague accompanied Christian to the door. “Sadly, good money management often is deathly dull, so I feel rather blessed when you or one of the others looks in.”
Christian grinned; he saluted as he went through the door. “Glad to be of service.” Walking through the outer office, he headed back to Mayfair.
At midday they all assembled in Randall’s study—Letitia, Christian, and Dalziel, with Hermione as lookout. They shut Mellon out and locked the study door, much to his consternation.
Also to Barton’s; the runner was still keeping watch from the street. Lounging against the area railings of the house opposite, he’d noted Christian’s and Dalziel’s arrivals with mounting curiosity. When Letitia drew the study curtains firmly across the windows, then peeked through a tiny gap, she saw Barton frowning. He started across the street; she tugged the curtains closed.
Turning, she glanced at the study door. “Did you leave the key in the lock?”
“Of course,” Dalziel replied.
“Good!” She ignored the arrogant look he sent her. “So even if he weasels his way into the house, that pest Barton won’t be able to see in.”
A heavy knock fell on the front door. Letitia waved dismissively. “Don’t bother—it’ll only be him.” She headed for the window and the catch for the secret door.
“I don’t think so.” Christian sent her a warning look.
She slowed, halted—and heard deep voices in the front hall.
Christian exchanged a glance with Dalziel. “It sounds like Trentham has brought reinforcements.”
Returning to the study door, Christian unlocked and opened it—to admit three gentlemen. Tristan and two other large gentleman Letitia hadn’t previously met.
Christian and Dalziel knew them; they exchanged handshakes and greetings, then Tristan brought the newcomers to Letitia and Hermione, who had sidled up to stand beside her. Tristan shook both their hands, then waved to the gentlemen alongside him. “Lady Letitia Randall, Lady Hermione Vaux—Anthony Blake, Viscount Torrington—for his sins, another member of our club—and Jonathon, Lord Hendon, who escaped by being in a slightly different wing of the services.”
Anthony Blake grinned and elegantly bowed over Letitia’s hand, then Hermione’s. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, ladies.” The dancing light in his dark eyes suggested it truly was. “Please call me Tony.”
Lord Hendon smiled and shook first Hermione’s hand, making her blush furiously, and then Letitia’s. “A pleasure, ma’am. And please call me Jack—everyone does. I understand you’ve inherited a share of a trading company.”
“Apparently. Unfortunately we’ve yet to determine jus
t what the company trades in.”
Tony glanced around. “Tristan said you had books…?”
Letitia looked across and confirmed that Christian had shut and relocked the study door. “Indeed.” Turning to the window frame, she depressed the catch for the secret door. “Come”—turning back to Tony and Jack, she waved beyond them to where Christian was swinging the secret door wide—“and we’ll show you.”
Jack and Tony were as amazed by the secret room as they’d all been, but they quickly got down to business when Christian showed them one of the ledgers.
“Just from this, it seems certain the Orient Trading Company, whoever they are, are a going concern—a business selling…what, we don’t yet know.” Jack looked up from the ledger. His gaze scanned the rows of packed shelves, taking in the enormity of the task they faced, then, jaw firming, he nodded. “We’ll need to get everything down—every box, every file, every ledger. We need to look for the account ledgers—money in, and money out. They could be in separate ledgers—from this one it looks like they will be—and there could well be more than one set of books, too.”
Tony nodded, surveying the shelves. “We also need to look for inventory files, documents listing goods, invoices, and any shipping documentation.” He exchanged a look with Jack. “If we can get the information on those two areas collected, we’ll have somewhere to start.”