Bacchus put a finger to the moustache as though surprised to find it still on his upper lip. ‘Oh … Sorry, sir. Left over from the last job. I suppose it does attract attention. I’ll get rid of it.’
‘And you mention feeling, James? Not a recommended activity in your line of work. You are perfectly clear …?’
‘My orders are precise and either have been executed or are about to be carried out. Commander.’
Joe smiled. The Branch seemed at last to be responding to a firm hand. And there was nothing better than a cry of ‘View halloo! Fox in sight!’ to get them racing off in the right direction.
‘Our target? Our “loose cannon” as the princess calls her?’
‘You know as well as I do, sir, there’s only one sure method of dealing with those rolling disasters at sea.’ He extended a hand and mimed a downwards diving motion. ‘Open a gun port and let gravity take care of the rest.’
‘Heaven forbid!’
The exclamation drew a hard glance from Bacchus. ‘We’re in the business of saving lives, sir. The right lives. Sometimes you have to make a trade. We’ve had our orders from above. And if we refuse them the matter will be … er … taken out of our hands and passed to others. The type who don’t ask questions. At least this way we still have room for manoeuvre.’
‘Yes. We’ve wangled ourselves one more throw of the dice. It might just come off … Bacchus, I want one of your men on board that liner to monitor — or if the worst should come to the worst manage — the outcome.’
‘I’d thought of that. I’ve got a ticket. Second class. Cherbourg to New York and back. That should be far enough to know what’s what. And I’ll go myself. Always wanted to see New York.’ He began to take an interest in his well-kept finger nails. ‘The constable, sir? Would you like me to manage her outcome as well?’