It was baking hot – unlike the more northerly Jamaica, surrounded by sea, this was an island only thirty miles off the great mass of the South American continent and at only twelve degrees above the equator.
He looked about. It was not a large town, mainly located in a typical neat Dutch grid of streets, situated on both sides of the channel. Around the Schottegat were boat-builders, warehouses, wharves – all the usual sights of a sea-port, together with the odour of fish offal, sun-baked dust and an indefinable scent, which, Renzi guessed, was the blossom of some exotic fruit.
Around a little inlet, near the roped schooners, was Parera, where the mysterious Duperré was said to be. Renzi felt light-headed – it had all been too quick, too easy. Was it a trap? He couldn’t see why – no one had known he was coming.
So, all it needed was for him to step out and uncover the secret – if, in fact, it existed.
He hefted his small case. It carried convincing documents copied from a genuine merchant, contrived by Wilikins to portray a cautious representative of a Bremen trading house out to gauge prospects away from the English Caribbean. They should pass muster … in any ordinary circumstance.
He also had a paper with the roughly written address of an apothecary on the opposite side of the channel, helpfully provided by the American captain. With poor English and no Dutch, of course he was lost, wasn’t he? It sounded thin and he prayed his answers, if he was questioned as to why he was off the beaten track, would pass muster.
It was hot and dusty on the road that wound around the inlet. Ahead he saw a discreet cluster of old buildings overhung by greenery standing alone, perfect for the role of secret operations headquarters – but were they?
Cheerful local traders passed by, some of whom waved at him, a small flock of goats was being fussed up a hill and a pair of voluble washerwomen argued as they toiled along with their bundles. All so normal – and so out of kilter with what his intellect was saying, that this had to be Napoleon’s greatest threat to the Caribbean yet.
He came nearer, trying not to be seen peering too closely. The buildings were not deserted – he could see activity inside. A horse whinnied out of sight, from behind the house, then someone rode out. Renzi dropped his gaze, trudging on, then sensed the animal turn and come towards him – but it broke into an easy canter and went by.
Letting out his breath, he raised his eyes. The intervening vegetation made it impossible to see much of the interior of the buildings. He dared not linger and ambled on, admiring the scenery until he saw how he could approach the schooners without being seen – go along the foreshore and peer around the point.
Out of sight from both the buildings and the trot, he stopped not fifty yards away from the vessels. In rising excitement he saw what he was looking for. Each was armed with guns far beyond those required for self-defence, including a pair in the bows – chase guns, never needed in an innocent trader. Swivels, others. They had to be armed French naval ships.
He had half of what he needed. Now for the rest.
His attention was taken by a chilling sight. A man-o’-war was gliding slowly into her moorings. A big one – a thirty-six-gun heavy frigate, by the look of her. With a closer look, he saw she was Dutch, no doubt tasked to guard the operation.
He retraced his steps – and from a safe distance took in the decayed grandeur of the old buildings, its overgrown garden. It was impossible to penetrate, short of a stealthy creeping-up, with all this implied in frightful danger. He could see no way to get close enough.
After all this, was he to return without the vital confirmation?
He felt for the piece of paper in his pocket and decided that boldness was the only way forward: he’d go up and knock on the door and ask the way to the apothecary.
Pausing to consult his fob watch, he shook his head and looked around in frustration. He noticed the most imposing of the buildings and, on impulse, opened the garden gate and walked towards the front door. Almost immediately, to his intense satisfaction, two men silently appeared and fell into step behind him.
There was movement and the hum of voices inside, but it quickly fell away at his hesitant knock. He turned to smile uncertainly at the two behind him. They remained expressionless and Renzi knew that he was irrevocably launched into an encounter that could have only one of two possible endings.
The door was snatched open by a powerfully built man, who deftly stepped aside while Renzi was hustled in by the pair to a small, bare room. It held a table and two chairs only.
‘Asseyez-vous,’ ordered one of his escorts, before taking up position implacably across the door.
Renzi blinked in confusion, not understanding the language.