Sangay’s fear dissolved into abject relief. “Oh, yes, please, Colonel-sahib. That would be very very good.” He hesitated, then said, his dark eyes locked with Del’s, “If you will do that for me and my maataa, I will do anything I can to help you capture the evil-sahib and his very evil master.”

Feeling relieved himself, Del allowed his features to ease into a smile, and rose. “That’s good-very good. Now”-he glanced at the other servants standing by the wall-“these gentlemen and I will need to sit down and make our plan. While we do, you can go down with the others to the servants’ hall. You must be hungry.”

“Oh, yes, Colonel-sahib. I am famished.” Smiling, Sangay slipped off the chair. He turned, and Matara waved him on ahead of her. With a little bow to Del, then another to the company, Sangay hurried to join the other servants as, with welcoming smiles for him, they filed out.

When the door shut behind Sligo, Del looked at Devil. “It’s not hard to see what we should do.”

Steepling his long fingers, Devil inclined his head. “If the Black Cobra or one of his senior henchman is going to be waiting in Ely Cathedral for Sangay to bring him the scroll-holder, I suggest we give him what he’s expecting.” He smiled, all teeth. “And just a little bit more.”

Del smiled back, equally predatorially. “My thoughts exactly.”

There were nothing but assenting sounds from the other men. The ladies, too, led by Deliah and Honoria, were in a distinctly bloodthirsty mood.

Of necessity they had to allow for the weather, but ultimately their plan wasn’t that hard to formulate.

Execution, however, was another matter.

Thirteen

December 18

Somersham Place, Cambridgeshire

The next day went in preparation.

At first light Demon, rugged up to the teeth against the bitter cold, rode out on the strongest horse in the stables-Devil’s Sulieman. Anyone who knew Demon would expect him to ride into Newmarket to check on his racing stables. That was his overt goal, his initial destination.

Once he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he would continue on to Elveden Grange to alert Royce to the developments and report their plan. If possible, Demon would return that evening in time to join the group going to the cathedral.

After an early breakfast, all the other men adjourned to the library. All the Cynsters were familiar with the cathedral, but Tony, Gervase, Del, and Gyles didn’t know the interior. Defining exactly where each of them would hide once inside, given they had to both protect Sangay and block all the numerous exits, wasn’t straightforward. In the end, Devil drew a detailed plan.

“As you can see”-he turned the sketch so the others, gathered about his desk, could more easily view it-“the cathedral’s both large and complex. The nave runs west to east. It’s extremely long, the longest in England, and the only place inside from which you can see all the principal doors is from the center of the octagon under the tower, which is where the altar sits. In other words, there isn’t any single concealed position that will allow us to cover even the main entrances. In addition, there’s umpteen smaller rooms off the various transepts, and some of them have external doors.”

He pointed to various areas on the sketch. “There’s a lady chapel and two chantry chapels at the east end. We have a presbytery here, and choir stalls separated from the nave by a screen. There are stalls between four pairs of pillars in the octagon. In the south transept, we have the cathedral library on one side and the vestries on the other. The north transept contains two chapels on one side and another chantry chapel at the end. And right at the east end of the cathedral we have the chapel of St. Etheldreda. The prior’s door-here, off the south aisle of the nave-is one example of the many unexpected entrances.”

“So our evil-sahib chose well.” Gyles glanced at Del. “That suggests he knows the area.”

“He’s probably visited,” Del said. “As Ferrar’s gentleman’s gentleman, he would have stayed from time to time with Ferrar’s father’s household. I’ve heard the Earl of Shrewton spends his winters on an estate at Wymondham, outside Norwich.”

“So Ferrar himself would be familiar with the place?” Lucifer asked.

“Almost certainly. He was born at Wymondham.”

At that point, the ladies, having risen somewhat later from their beds, joined them. They asked questions, glanced at the sketch, reiterated that Sangay had to be kept safe, then subsided in various chairs and sofas around the room. Many had brought pieces of sewing, knitting, embroidery and the like to keep their hands busy while they listened.

The men all looked at them.

Honoria waved a haughty hand. “Carry on.”

The men exchanged glances, then turned back to the desk and got down to business, placing themselves like pieces on a game board, then assessing how well the arrangement satisfied their criteria.

“Not easy,” Tony concluded. “Covering all the exits is difficult enough, but because of this octagon with the altar at its center, to sufficiently protect Sangay we’ll need at least three men close in-inside the octagon, or within a few steps of it.”

They all looked at the sketch.

“The octagon’s definitely the place to stage the handover,” Devil said. “It gives us the best chance of catching whoever comes to get the scroll-holder, Larkins, Ferrar, or both. Anywhere else is more problematical.”

“True,” Richard allowed. “But Tony’s right-we need three men to cover that area. And there’s no way to have three men that close without them being seen.”

“Disguises.” Gervase glanced at Devil. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of laying our hands on some monk’s robes?”

Devil met his gaze, then looked down the room at Honoria. “Monk’s robes?”

She raised both brows. “We have some, certainly. In the costume box, I think.” She rose. “I’ll go and hunt them out.”

“I’ll help.” Catriona rose, too.

“Three would be useful,” Devil called.

Honoria waved as she headed for the door.

Del studied the sketch. “Let’s assume we can place three men in monk’s robes close. Where, exactly?”

They worked that out, then, once Honoria and Catriona had returned with three passable monk’s robes and they’d been tried on and approved, with those three deployments settled, they made final judgments on their other positions. Lastly, they worked out who would go where.

They each had their strengths. In the end, it was decided Tony, Gervase, and Gyles would be the monks. Their primary aim would be to protect Sangay. With a glance toward the ladies, Del added, “At all costs.”

All the rest had only one aim, one goal. “We concentrate on apprehending whoever comes to fetch the scroll-holder.”

Gabriel frowned. “What are the odds Ferrar, or even Larkins, sends a foot soldier? All that’s required is to pick up a scroll-holder from a boy, after all. No urgent need to risk getting caught themselves.” He looked around at the others. “Surely by now Ferrar has realized that the critical point in Wolverstone’s plan is to tempt him to show his hand, and through that action to connect himself irrevocably with the scroll-holder, and therefore with the letter it supposedly contains?”

Del forced himself to weigh the chances, but then shook his head. “No. It’ll be Larkins who comes. He’ll definitely be there. Whether Ferrar will come, too, is anyone’s guess. Consider. Larkins has been the one throughout to deal with Sangay. He told Sangay he’d be there, and I’m sure he will be if for no other reason than to make sure Sangay hands the scroll-holder over and doesn’t get confused by someone he doesn’t recognize and instead slip away.

“In addition to that, Ferrar knows the letter-the real one-is damning. He won’t risk such a thing falling into the hands even of one of his cultists. He’ll send someone he trusts implicitly-Larkins-or he’ll come himself.”

After a pause during which they digested that, Vane asked, “So what are our chances of getting Larkins-presuming it’s he we catch in our trap-to point the finger at Ferrar?”

“Reasonable,” Del said. “Larkins has been with Ferrar for years, and has relished his time in the upper echelons of the Black Cobra cult. But when faced with the choice between a rope or transportation? I’d say it’s more likely he’ll cooperate than he won’t.”

Del looked down at Devil’s sketch, at their planning represented by the crosses and notes marked on it. “If we can hobble the Black Cobra before the others have to wrestle through his coils, I’ll be more than content.”

“As will we all,” Devil said.

An “indeed,” followed by soft “hear, hears” from the sofas, chaises and armchairs further down the room had the men exchanging uneasy glances. They were planning a dangerous foray, and their ladies were listening. All were aware of the looming problem. Only Tony and Gervase were immune.

But they had to make their plans, and there was no point trying to hide that-or the plans themselves-from the ladies.

Devil and Del studied the sketch of the cathedral yet again.

“Even though there’ll be ten of us-assuming Demon makes it back in time-we’ll be spread thin,” Del noted.

“True,” Devil returned. “But at least there are plenty of places to hide once we move away from the altar and that end of the nave.”

“One eventuality we haven’t considered,” Tony said. “What if he comes in force?”

Standing beside Devil, his fingertips brushing the desk, Del considered, eventually said, “I can’t see it. If I had to wager on it, I’d say he’ll come alone, or with only one, or two, others. More, and he’ll risk attracting attention-”

“Given the cultists are Indian,” Deliah put in from the nearest sofa, “it’s likely he won’t want them seen. They create too much notice. People will look, and remember which way they go.”