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from him?"
    Ludd stuck out
his chin. "That's just it - we haven't heard from him at all. It's been
six days."
    "Not
long," Hawkwood said.
    "In the
general scheme of things, I'd not disagree with you." Ludd gnawed the
inside of his lip.
    "Captain?" Hawkwood
prompted.
    Ludd ceased
chewing. "He was not the first," he said heavily.
    Hawkwood sensed
James Read shift in his seat. Ludd continued to look uncomfortable. "The
first officer we sent, a Lieutenant Masterson, died."
    "Died? How?"
    "Drowned,
it's presumed. His body was discovered two weeks ago on a mud bank near Fowley
Island."
    "Which is
where?" Hawkwood asked.
    "The Swale
River."
    "Kent."
    Ludd nodded.
"At the time there was nothing to indicate he'd been the victim of foul
play. We mourned him, we buried him, and then Lieutenant Sark was dispatched to
continue the investigation."
    "But now
that Sark's failed to report back, you're thinking that perhaps the drowning
wasn't an accident."
    "There is
that possibility, yes."
    "Forgive
me, Captain, but I still don't see what this has to do with Bow Street,"
Hawkwood said. "This remains a navy matter, surely?"
    Before Ludd
could respond, James Read interjected: "Captain Ludd is here at the behest
of Magistrate Aaron Graham. Magistrate Graham is the government inspector
responsible for the administration of all prisoners of war. He reports directly
to the Home Secretary. It was Home Secretary Ryder's recommendation that the
Board avail itself of our services."
    Hawkwood had met
Home Secretary Richard Ryder and hadn't been overly impressed, but then
Hawkwood had a low opinion of politicians, irrespective of rank. In short, he
didn't trust them. He had found Ryder to be a supercilious man, too full of his
own importance. He wondered if Ryder had been in contact with James Read
directly. There was nothing in the Chief Magistrate's manner to indicate he was
talking to Ludd under sufferance, but then Read was a master of the neutral
expression. It didn't mean his mind wasn't whirring like clockwork underneath
the impassive mask.
    Read got to his
feet. He walked to the fireplace and adopted his customary pose in front of the
hearth. The fire was unlit, but Read stood as if warming himself .
Hawkwood suspected that the magistrate assumed the stance as a means to help
him think, whether a fire was blazing away or not. Oddly, it did seem to imbue
an air of gravity to whatever pronouncement he came up with. Hawkwood wondered
if that wasn't the magistrate's real intention.
    Read pursed his
lips. "It's no secret that the Board has come in for a degree of criticism
over the past twelve months. It has been the subject of two Select Committees.
Their findings were that the Board has not performed as efficiently as expected.
Further adverse reports would be most. . . unhelpful.
So far, these escapes have been kept out of the public domain. There's concern
that, should word of its inability to keep captured enemy combatants in check
emerge, the government's credibility could suffer a severe blow. With all due
deference to Captain Ludd, while the loss of one officer sent to investigate
these escapes might be construed as unfortunate, the loss of two officers could
be regarded as carelessness. It is all grist to the mill, and with the nation
at war any lack of confidence in the administration could have dire
consequences."
    Hawkwood stole a
glance at the captain and felt an immediate sympathy. He knew what it was like
to lose men in battle; he himself had lost more men than he cared to remember,
and it was a painful burden to bear.
    "What
services?" Hawkwood asked.
    Read frowned.
    "You said
the Home Secretary wants the Board to avail itself of our services. What
services?"
    James Read
looked towards Ludd, who gave a rueful smile. "My superiors are unwilling
to commit further resources to the investigation."
    "By
resources, you mean men," Hawkwood said.
    Ludd flushed.
"As Magistrate Read stated, two officers have apparently fallen prey to
the