It was an interesting feeling, waiting for someone to come and kill him. Mortal dread kept his heart pumping harder than it should, and kept him lifting his head at every little noise. In all, this was the most exhilirating time of his life.
Fenians were known to be quick to act against anyone they considered to be a threat, and he had no doubt they'd do the same now. He only needed to wait for them to make their move. The attempted murder of an agent would be all the evidence he'd need to arrange for an arrest, and from there he could extract the information he wanted. Meyers could already see his first assignment done and dusted.
Meyers lit a cigar while he walked, and the embers glowed vividly in the dark. The water lapped at its shores nearby, making the only sound in the cold evening. A brush of warm air by his shoulder gave him his only warning. Someone grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Don't struggle," A man's voice growled in his ear. "Just come with me. We need to have a talk somewhere private."
He tried to drag Meyers away into the night with a strength greater than that of a skinny boy or a stooped farmer. Meyers strained against the powerful grasp. He'd gambled on Kelly and Clegg coming after him themselves, not on them having the influence to send someone else to do their dirty work. Meyers kicked behind him blindly, and managed to catch the edge of the other man's leg. The two of them fell to the ground in a tangle and grappled with each other. Stony hands found his throat. For an instant Meyers regretted not carrying a knife or gun like other agents. He cast around for a means to defend himself. A red pinprick smoldered in the dirt next to his head. He snatched up his dropped cigar and drove the burning end at the shadowed mass looming over him.
"Jesus Murphy!" His assailant howled.
A body jerked away from him violently, sending the cigar flying from his hand. Meyers made no effort to retrieve it; the stench of burned skin mixed with the rich scent of tobacco turned his stomach. He wouldn't want that cigar back for a smoke or for a weapon. Meyers scrambled to his feet and pulled the man close enough to see him by the dim moonlight.
"You?" Meyers burst out. "What are you doing here?" He let go reflexively.
"Just what in God's name were you thinking?" The other man snapped. It wasn't Kelly or even Clegg. It was the Canadian agent he'd seen on the farm.
The man took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the burn on his face. Meyers just glimpsed the monographed initials R.U.C. before it was shoved back out of sight.
"Well, I -" Meyers never got the chance to finish.
"Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you could have caused?" R.U.C. demanded.
"I hadn't expected - "Meyers started.
"Clegg is an American agent," His compatriot told him urgently.
"I know, I'm trying to -" Meyers found himself interrupted once again. This was getting old fast.
"Just what did you plan to do if Clegg came after you instead? Would you have captured him? Tortured him for information?"
Meyers didn't bother trying to answer, though he wondered what R.U.C. had in store for him if he had gone quietly. If the other man enjoyed the sound of his own voice so much, let him do the talking. Maybe he'd actually reveal something pertinent amongst his grumbling.
"If I hadn't been in time to stop you, we could have had an international incident on our hands," R.U.C. insisted.
Meyers would have found this claim easier to swallow if the man hadn't tried to start the conversation by half throttling him in the dark.
"With this treaty coming up, now would be the worst possible time to alarm the Americans. They'd demand our heads on a platter if they got wind of what we're up to," R.U.C. warned.
That seemed a rather dramatic reaction to the capture of one agent, especially one who entered Canada without permission. Besides, Meyers couldn't let him go. Even if arresting Clegg wasn't an option, he still had to find out what the man was doing here in the first place.
"You've spent some time observing Clegg. Have you seen anything that connects him to Fenian activity?" Meyers broke in when R.U.C. finally paused for breath.
R.U.C. gave him a sharp look.
"You have been assigned to gather intelligence on Fenian movements, haven't you? Unless, when I saw you on the island you were there to check up on me," Terrence pressed.
"I could ask the same of you," The other man said evasively.
It was an unspoken concession that some agents were employed solely to spy on each other. No one really knew who amongst their ranks was watching the watchers. It made Meyers uneasy that another agent just happened to be so close to his own target, closer than he was himself.
"No, you're just here for the American," R.U.C. sneered without giving Meyers time to answer. "We don't need the Americans to deal with our enemies for us. What we need is to show them Canada is capable of holding her own. That's the only way to win their respect in this treaty, not by picking fights with their spies."
Meyers frowned at the last comment. It was annoying enough to hear his own assignment disparged, but it also proved the other man had been eavesdropping on the meeting with Sager. Did he have some other motive for interfering with Meyers' work? Even if he did, Meyers could do nothing about it tonight. All he could do now was walk away, and find some other means to draw out Clegg. He had no legitimate excuse to spend his days at Mr. Kelly's farm house, and he didn't crave falling into another talk with R.U.C. anyway. It would be best if he could get Allen away from the other agent's influence, and out of the shelter of the farmhouse. What he needed was to drive Allen from his cover.
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Author's Note: Prime Minister John A. Macdonald had a mistrust of his own spy agency, and actually did task some spies with watching each other.