The lurid light spilling over the citys walls came not from the setting sun, but a ship burning in the harbor. Sailors tried to douse the flames. Their water buckets failed to stem the fireit spread like a pestilence over the hull, up the masts, engulfing the sails. The sailors abandoned their task. They shoved themselves into jolly boats and dove overboard, and people on the shore could only watch as the ship became a black, shuddering skeleton, its expensive cargo turning to ash upon the water. The crew had escaped, but the pepper they shipped did not.
A disaster.
Bailey?
Norwoods voice broke the scene. Leo quickly pocketed the coins and the vision of distant calamity faded. He was back in a London coffee house, amidst news sheets and talk of business, with Norwood gazing curiously at him across the table. A phantom scent of burning wood and pepper pods remained in Leos memory.
Are you well, Bailey?
Forgive me. My mind ... went somewhere else for a moment.
A knowing grin spread across Norwoods face. Back to your new bride, I imagine.
Leo manufactured a smile. His ability to foresee financial disaster had been his particular gift from the Devil, a gift that remained a secret between Leo and the other Hellraisers. Anne would never learn of itfor many reasons.
Are you at the Change today in search of new ventures? he asked.
There are several, all clamoring for my coin, answered Norwood, and the matter remains only to discern which would be the wisest investment.
Ive more than a little intelligence in such matters. Tell me which have commandeered your attention.
Norwood raised a brow. To what end? That you might seize an opportunity and leave me out in the cold?
Leo placed a hand on his chest. Injurious words. My offer was extended in friendship, that I might advise you. He glanced down at the heavy ruby he wore on his right ring finger. And Ive no need to cut you out of the profits, not when my own are so abundant. There is plenty to share.
If Norwood understood that Leo threw his own crime back at him, he made no sign. Slowly, he nodded. Everyone has said that lately your investments never fail.
Leo always possessed good sense, but with the Devils gift, he had become infallible. The gold in his coffers and the country estate he had purchased for his mothers use testified to this.
Unburden yourself, he urged Norwood. Make use of my council.
After taking a sip of his coffee, the other man proceeded. Three ventures have applied to me for investment funds. A housing development here in London, sugar from Barbados, or a pepper shipment from Batavia. He spread his hands. They have all presented themselves in the best possible light, and I have done as much research into each business as feasible, yet I cannot decide which shall be the recipient of my capital. For I can invest in only one.
Leo kept his outward appearance calm. He crafted his expression into one of contemplation. Within, however, he felt the quick, exhilarating anticipation of a predator lying in wait. He had merely to let his prey wander
farther into the kill zone, and the deed would be accomplished, his claws bright with blood.
All three have their merits, their potential.
But one must be better than the others, surely?
How long could Leo toy with him? A pleasure to draw it out, knowing that the blow would come, or strike quickly, and then watch the carnage? Both appealed.
Housing developments are certainly intriguing, he said. Every day, more and more people come to London, looking for work beyond tenant farming. They all need places to live.
So, that should be my investment?
Leo feigned deliberation. Finally, he said, Choose the pepper from Batavia. The appetite for spice goes unabated, and it always finds a buyer. With the desire for French cooking growing, especially amongst the swelling ranks of the bourgeoisie, such goods can only increase in value.
Are you certain? Norwoods brow pleated.
A better investment cannot be found.
For a moment, Norwood simply stared at Leo, as if trying to make sense of a labyrinth. He released a breath. You are ... generous.
This surprises you.
No. Well ... aye. Youve something of a reputation.
The Demon of the Exchange. Leo laughed at Norwoods pained expression. I know every name Im called. Including upstart, peasant, lowborn bastard. Leo had once overheard Norwood call him that. The lowborn bastard wont know the difference in the balance sheets. A simple matter, and the profits are ours.
Abruptly, Norwood pushed back from the table and stood. He held out his hand. My thanks to you, Bailey. Youve done me a kindness.
Nothing kind about it. Leo resisted the impulse to crush Norwoods hand in his own, and merely shook it instead. I have a very good feeling about your investment.
I wish you great happiness in your marriage. With that, Norwood bowed before hurrying out of the coffee house.
Leo sat alone, with two cups of coffee growing cold, yet within, he was a volcano of hot, vicious joy. He took from his pocket Norwoods coins, the thruppence and tanner, and set them on the table.