23. So Close!
SO CLOSE!
L eopold had been hoping to hear something new about Crossings' ship for a while. Waiting for it to begin the process of shuttling in its cargo, knowing that it was lingering just off the coast, ready to make a move as soon as the wind let up, it had been a nuisance in the back of his mind for days now. So when Fitz interrupted his dinner with important news, Leopold hadn't minded in the slightest.
And he was not disappointed.
I like you , she had said.
You have purpose, she had said.
He shook his head.
As soon as they were out in the hall, Fitz told him that the rogue ship had gone dark—an obvious sign of activity.
It was perfect.
As the boss, Leopold could just as easily observe his plan unfold from the tower—leave the heavy lifting, the danger, to his team. But he wasn't that kind of man. Besides, following that rather chaotic conversation with Amelia, he felt… itchy. Unsettled. There was just enough moonlight to see Crossings' hired crew loading their rowboats. A nice little ambush was just what he needed to exorcise his devils.
"Tell Snipes to apprehend Crossings' rendezvous vehicles now, and have Ace ready our boats," Leopold said, drawing away from the viewing glass with a grim laugh. "Looks like the duke is about to lose another shipment." They all had been anticipating this moment and needed to be quick to get into their positions.
Less than half an hour later, Leopold and half a dozen of his team silently rowed out from behind the rocks that bracketed Treasure Cove. Another of his team did the same from the opposite side to converge on separate targets.
Roughly twenty yards further out, two boats approached—both loaded with barrels of tea—obviously aiming for Smuggler's Cove.
But they wouldn't land.
Not in the way they expected to, anyway.
Leopold could have intercepted them on the beach. He could have confiscated the tea and turned it over to the authorities as evidence against Crossings. But they'd tried that before, only to later learn it had mysteriously disappeared.
Another option had been for him to keep the tea and sell it for his own profits. But Leopold refused to participate in the opium for tea trade in any way.
He had a better idea—one that wouldn't only thwart the duke's operations, but be a slap in the face to anyone who'd support it.
And so he'd hatched this plan, one where they'd meet those boats in the water.
For a moment, listening to the water splashing around them, Leopold imagined men who'd defended Smuggler's Manor from invaders several centuries before—to protect what was theirs. It was a timeless urge. With the cool mist in his face, Leopold's heart raced, all his senses on alert, and he clenched his fists in anticipation.
Both of his crews, two boats, cut through the swelling waves without making a sound. They'd honed the uncanny ability to silently communicate, to make themselves invisible, long before they'd ever seen the shores of Smuggler's Cove.
Ten yards now. Then five.
Crossings' runners remained oblivious, all of them looking forward as they prepared to land on the narrow beach, watching for the sharp rocks that littered the cove. The poor sods wouldn't even see it coming,
His crew had all been crouched low, but at Leopold's signal, he and his men rose up. The moment their boat scuttled parallel to the runners, he, Miles, and Smithy leapt across the gap while Ace worked to quickly tie the boats together.
"What the hell—?" It was all the runner could get out before Leopold had his arm around the man's neck. The fellow tried to claw himself free, pulling and thrashing about, but to no avail. Having pulled the same maneuver more times than he could count, Leopold simply tightened his grip until the runner went limp. Only then, while binding the unconscious man's arms, did Leopold glance around to check on the rest of his crew's progress.
It was almost too easy.
Having the advantage of superior numbers and a surprise attack, they had effortlessly subdued the small team. The runners' hands were all tied together and their mouths gagged with handkerchiefs so they couldn't call out to the main ship.
With that part of the mission complete, Leopold and his gang methodically cracked open each barrel, propped them on the edges of the boats, and began dumping the contents into the sea.
As the pungent, unmistakable odor of oolong wafted over the waters, Leopold imagined tea leaves washing up on shores all along the southern coasts of England with a smile.
But he'd gloated too soon.
Leopold had barely tossed the barrel aside when a shadow came swinging toward his head from the side. And then pain.
And then nothing.
Much later, Smithy would say the collision was so loud, he'd thought they'd rammed into another boat, sending one of the unopened barrels into the churning sea.
But the collision wasn't their boat striking another. It was an oar hitting Leopold's head. And they'd not lost one of the unopened barrels. No, that splash had been Leopold.
Tumbling over the edge and into the water.
Unconscious.