Chapter 4
Phileas headed to Chatsworth's office at Whitehall just before the normal close of business the following day. He wanted to ask about this matter privately, drawing no one's attention. He entered the doors of this building only at Rebecca's prompting or where Rebecca's welfare was concerned, not for pleasant visits or relaxed chatting.
He directed the carriage to the main street in front of Whitehall just as a closed coach was moving away. It was Chatsworth's coach. Fogg knew it and recognized the man as he had disappeared into it just seconds before they approached. His carriage stopped.
Of all the bad luck!
Irritated at missing the man so narrowly, he huffed, considered going home. He did not really want to wait another day to talk to him, but chasing the man to his home had not been in his plans.
Might he be heading for his supper? If I crashed in on his meal to have a talk, that would not be so bad. Not good for the digestion…
He ordered his carriage to follow the coach.
The vehicle did not go toward any club. It did, however, stop near a street vendor where its occupant got out and bought an orange. Chatsworth climbed back into the coach and ordered the driver to go on.
"Eating light?"
The coach drove on another two blocks and turned a corner. Phileas's carriage followed at a discreet distance. When his carriage turned the corner, Chatsworth's coach was parked on the side of the road. The man himself was leaning against the back of it, waiting. He had a stern, sour expression on his face, tapping his cane in his palm.
I was spotted.
"D—n."
Phileas ordered the carriage to park behind Sir Jonathan's conveyance, frustrated but ready.
The Director of the Secret Service was already walking toward him. Phileas popped open the door just as he reached it and invited him in.
"What may I ask is the meaning of this, Fogg?" Chatsworth said.
"I wished for a quiet meeting with you this evening," Phileas said. "I seemed to have missed you at your office."
"Indeed," Sir Jonathan said gamely, as he climbed in beside Fogg. "And what could possibly be so important that you needed to follow me across London?"
"It was a matter of Rebecca's assignment. The one you canceled," Phileas said. "The one you told her nearly nothing about and were going to be her partner on. Now that's not like you Chatsworth, going into the field yourself. You are not qualified for it, and we have already discussed the need to keep agents well informed of what they walk into."
Sir Jonathan's irritation climbed with every word Phileas uttered. He looked away, fighting the driving need to throttle him. He would have loved to take the fop by the lapels and give him a few choice words, but knew better than to try.
"I do not recall asking you what you thought of my methods, sir," Chatsworth clipped. "See your way home now and bother me no further."
"Just see that you are mindful of our last talk we had on this subject," Phileas shot before Chatsworth could get out of the carriage.
Chatsworth walked back to his coach with a determined stride in a black mood.
My usual response when dealing with that man.
He was just about to reenter his coach when he stopped and considered a thought. It had come to him first when he sent the letter to Rebecca, canceling her assignment. He had dismissed the notion as out of hand. Phileas was not an agent and did not follow orders well, anyway. The thought came back to him now because of his anger. It was the only way his earlier plans would work since his last discovery on the matter.
Fogg's carriage moved into the street. Sir Jonathan held out his cane in front of the horses before they could pass him. The carriage driver pulled them to a stop.
Sir Jonathan walked back to the door of the carriage and opened it to face Fogg again.
"Since you are so eaten up with curiosity, I suppose I should explain the situation or take the chance of finding you at my back again. Follow me now or keep your nose out of my business."
With that, he closed the door before Fogg replied. Sir Jonathan smiled to himself as he climbed back into his own coach. He had gotten the last word, and Chatsworth knew full well Phileas would never stand for that.
He will follow.