Page 16 of King's Man

Half a bottle of the Bowl’s vilest gin later and Sam still had no answers, nor could he drown the memories stirred up by the sight of the man. In his mind, all he saw was Nate staring at him with those deep brown eyes of his, fine dark hair slipping free of his queue and his expression an astonished mix of hurt and frustration, as beguiling this morning as he’d been the first day he’d breezed into Sam’s office and overturned his world.

His gut cramped. God, how heloathedNate Tanner.

“Just give me the bottle,” he suggested when Moses refilled his glass for the… sixth?… time.

“I’d be happy to. I’ve no objection to taking your money. But our friend over there’s been giving me the evil eye for the last half hour, and you know what Elias Cole’s like when he’s righteously indignant.”

Sam turned, peering through the Bowl’s gloom toward the back corner — Cole’s habitual haunt. “Still hoping to catch Wessex red handed, is he?” Sam said, rummaging around for a smile.

Moses snorted. “Not a chance. But I can’t think of any other reason he’d be lurking in the shadows, alarming people.”

Once one of Hal Foxe’s most trusted confidants, Elias Cole had turned his back on St Giles years ago and was now usually found at the Brown Bear — the informal headquarters of the Principal Officers of Bow Street, and of London’s private thief-takers. Of which Cole was one. That was where Sam had met him, thrown into the Bear’s lock-up after being brought in with several other gentlemen discovered enjoying each other’s company at the Lincoln’s Inn bog house. Cole had seen them all released and had sent Sam — who’d nowhere else to go — to Hal Foxe. Hal had provided both refuge and safer hunting grounds, saving Sam’s wreck of a life, and for that Cole would always have his gratitude.

But that didn’t extend to ratting on Wessex. There was, it turned out, honor among thieves.

Pushing away from the bar, Sam grabbed his glass and made his way unsteadily towards Cole, who sat at a small table with a jug of ale at his elbow and newspaper clippings strewn before him. Sam sank into the seat opposite without invitation. “He won’t just wander in with you sitting here, you know. Wessex is a clever man.”

Cole glanced up, unimpressed. “And who pissed in your beer tonight?” He was a handsome man with a quick smile. Sam might have enjoyed it more had his heart not been anchored in deeper waters.

“Good evening to you too.”

“If it was a good evening, you wouldn’t be half cut already.” Cole’s thief-taker gaze narrowed. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Cole just cocked his head, waiting.

“I just —” He sighed. “I ran into someone. Someone from home.”

An appraising pause followed. “An old ‘friend’ by any chance?”

No one knew about Nate. It was a story Sam had never told, not even to friends like Cole who shared his tastes. The shame of being abandoned by his lover was difficult to admit. But he saw sympathy in Cole’s eyes, a guessed understanding of Sam’s pain if not the detail of his injury. “He was a dear friend, once,” he admitted, horrified by the catch in his voice. “Before the war.”

“Ah.” Cole reached for his ale. “I’m sorry, then, but I ain’t surprised. Men like us, Hutch, we ain’t meant for having ‘dear friends’. It’s too dangerous. A tumble in the White Horse is one thing, but them mollies with their marrying rooms and ‘my dear this’ and ‘my dear that’? It ain’t going to lead nowhere but the pillory or the gallows.”

Sam gave a tired smile. “You’re a cynic, Cole.”

“Realist. Just ask Hal Foxe how fast ‘dear friends’ disappear when the law comes a-calling.” He lifted a curious eyebrow. “But I suppose you already found out.”

And he had, in a way. It hadn’t been a charge of sodomy that Sam had faced, but Nate had still abandoned him. Perhaps, had they not been lovers, Nate would have stood between him and the fury of Holden’s mob. Instead, he’d stayed silent and watched Sam’s destruction from the shadows. “Whatever he was before, he’s nothing to me now. And I’d as soon stay out of his way, but…” He looked up miserably. “We’re to travel to Liverpool together, for a job.”

“A job?” Cole’s surprise was obvious. “What kind of job?”

“A serious one. Hal set it up.” Sam told him about his meeting with Talmach and the unknown document he was to steal, although he kept MacLeod’s name out of it. Colewasa thief-taker, after all.

After a thoughtful pause, Cole said, “Liverpool’s a long way to go. Days of travel.” An artful smile. “Plenty of time to talk on the way, you and your friend. Resolve your differences, perhaps?”

Sam bristled. “Differences? You mean how he stood by and watched while I was stripped of my home, my reputation, and everything I owned in the world?”

“Something like that, aye.” Cole leaned forward to take the gin from Sam’s hand, disturbing the newspaper clippings on the table and sending one fluttering to the floor. “What does your ‘friend’ have to say on the matter?”

Sam snatched his glass back. He didn’t care what Tanner had to say about anything, but he didn’t want to argue with Cole about it. Instead of replying, he reached down to retrieve the newspaper clipping from the floor. The headline read:Highwayman ‘Wessex’ robs the Bristol Mail Coach. “This is becoming something of an obsession, my friend.”

“He’s a slippery bastard, but I’ll get my hands on him one day.” Cole took the clipping from Sam’s fingers. “You can tell him that, next time he pops in with a bauble or two to fence.”

Sam lifted his cup in salute and downed the rest of his gin.

“I reckon facing this bastard will be good for you,” Cole said after a moment. “I ain’t saying what you lost is nothing, but, well, the way I see it, you either let the buggers break you or you get up and punch them in the face.” He tapped the pile of newspaper clippings. “I can’t bring my brother back, but I can bring villains like Wessex to justice. And every time I see one of the murdering bastards swing, I know I’ve done right by Will. It might be small, but it’s something. And ain’t confronting your friend better than chewing on it in silence for the rest of your life? Make sure he knows what he done to you, what you lost. It’ll make you feel better, at least.”

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