Johnson clutched his sword in both hands and came at Chaloner with a howl of fury, so the spy was obliged to jump hastily behind the table. At that moment, the flame reached the remnants of the gunpowder in his hat, and it puffed like a firework. It was not much of a display, but it made Johnson spin around in alarm, allowing Chaloner to throw the broom at him while he was distracted. It struck his jaw hard, and he stumbled into Scot’s body, snatching at it desperately in a effort maintain his balance. Then he and the corpse crashed to the floor together, and the surgeon gave a yelp of disgust as he tried to free himself from the cold, flopping limbs.
Meanwhile, Lisle raced towards Chaloner, brandishing his surgical cudgel. He swung it with all his might. Chaloner raised his hand to protect his head, and there was a sharp crack as the splint broke. Lisle lunged again, while Reynell moved groggily to grab Chaloner’s foot, making him fall. The spy became aware of gagging sounds behind him, and wondered what was wrong with Johnson. He glanced around, and Lisle used his momentary inattention to strike again. The dressing took another monstrous blow that sent waves of shock up Chaloner’s arm.
‘That is enough!’ came an authoritative voice. It was Wiseman. ‘Desist immediately.’
‘Thank heavens you are here,’ said Lisle, lowering his weapon in apparent relief. ‘We were preparing the subject for this afternoon, when Heyden arrived and began to run amok. You can see Reynell and Johnson covered in blood from his attack. Seize him quickly, while he is down.’
Chaloner sagged. There was no point in protesting his innocence, or in telling Wiseman what he had learned. It was so outlandish that he would be wasting his breath.
‘Actually, I heard enough to know exactly what is going on,’ said Wiseman haughtily. ‘I have suspected for some time that the handsome specimens you use in your Private Anatomies are not from prisons, and I resolved to discover how you came by them. I set a trap, using Heyden as bait.’
Chaloner scrambled to his feet. ‘What?’
The surgeon stepped into the vault, and continued to address Lisle. ‘I told the porter to let me know when Heyden arrived to see you. I knew you would be unable to resist him – a man with transient friends and no London family. I applied an especially robust splint, knowing he would be desperate to be rid of it, and you would be equally willing to oblige him.’
Lisle glared at him. ‘You abused a patient to entrap me?’
‘To catch you in the act,’ corrected Wiseman. ‘And I have done it, too.’
‘No one will believe you,’ said Lisle, although there was an uneasy expression on his face. ‘Most of our Company find you arrogant, disagreeable and rude, so no one will take your word over mine.’
Wiseman’s smile was unpleasant. ‘I do not care what my colleagues think, because I have him.’ He gestured over his shoulder, and Chaloner saw Williamson framed in the doorway.
‘I heard enough to hang you,’ said the Spymaster coolly. He turned to the soldiers who were ranged behind him. ‘Arrest them all.’
‘And if Mr Williamson is not a powerful enough witness, there is always him,’ said Wiseman, pointing to the floor, where Johnson was gasping for breath. Scot’s corpse was on top of him, and Chaloner saw with a start that its hands were fixed firmly around the surgeon’s throat. Scot was alive, and busily throttling the man who had tried to kill him.
‘You should not have stopped me,’ said Scot resentfully, sitting in Wiseman’s chambers a short while later. He was pale, and there was a sizeable lump where Johnson had struck him, but he was quickly regaining his customary composure. ‘The fate they had in mind for me was horrible, and I do not trust the law-courts to hand down a suitable sentence.’
Wiseman did not agree. ‘They may not hang at Tyburn, but there are other means of dispensing with people, especially if you are Williamson. You should be aware of this – you work for the man.’
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Chaloner, immediately wary. Scot was ruthlessly careful, and did not confide in just anyone. Wiseman would be one of the last people to earn his trust, especially as Scot had said on several occasions that he was wary of the man.
Wiseman sighed impatiently. ‘Because government intelligencers live dangerously, and I am a surgeon with a Court appointment. Williamson often summons me to help his people, and so does Lord Clarendon. I ask no questions, because it is safer that way, but I know what you two do.’
Chaloner glanced at Scot. ‘Is it true?’
‘He has been the unofficial “surgeon to spies” since the Restoration, and I am surprised you have never had recourse to call on his services.’ Scot turned to the smug medic. ‘What will happen to the Public Anatomy? Will you cancel it now Lisle and Johnson are unavailable?’
‘There is no need for that,’ replied Wiseman comfortably. ‘Not when I – the Company’s most accomplished practitioner – am ready to save the day. The demonstration will go ahead as planned.’
‘On Willys?’ asked Chaloner in distaste. ‘You intend to use him, even though his corpse was snatched from its grave?’
Wiseman rubbed his chin ruefully. ‘Lisle was right about one thing. Dillon will bleed if we use him – his lengthy scaffold speeches mean he has not been dead long enough for the bodily fluids to settle. Meanwhile, the other corpses in the basement have been partially dissected already. Willys is our only choice.’
‘You cannot use Dillon, anyway,’ Scot pointed out. ‘No one seems to know where he is.’
‘Johnson does,’ said Chaloner, ‘but he is refusing to say.’
Wiseman was unhappy. ‘I hope Williamson finds him soon. It will be bad for the Company if his corpse appears somewhere public. People will think we are careless with them.’
‘And that would never do,’ said Chaloner acidly. He was torn between anger at having been used as a tethered goat to entrap Lisle, and relief that Scot had risen from the dead.
Wiseman grinned. ‘I suppose I owe you an apology, although, as Clarendon’s man, you must be pleased with the outcome – you have successfully eliminated Johnson, one of your master’s nastiest enemies. Perhaps I should have taken you into my confidence, and asked whether you minded lending a hand – literally, in this case – but I thought my plan would work better if you were kept in the dark. Besides, I mentioned several times that Lisle and Johnson had recently become inexplicably wealthy, but you did not take the hint and offer to investigate.’
‘I did not know it was a hint,’ objected Chaloner. ‘I thought you were just talking.’
‘I never just talk,’ declared Wiseman. ‘Everything I say is worth listening to – and acting upon.’
‘Lord Clarendon will be delighted to learn Johnson is so spectacularly disgraced,’ said Scot, when Chaloner snorted his disbelief. ‘Especially if some of the mess can be made to stick to Bristol.’
‘Perhaps so, but there was still no need to maim me. I would have helped to expose Johnson and his gruesome dealings, and performing bad surgery was both unnecessary and unethical.’
Wiseman grimaced at the reprimand. ‘Well, it is done now, and to make amends, I shall remove the splint. You will play your viol this evening as though nothing has happened.’
‘Good,’ said Chaloner coldly. ‘Because if I find I cannot, I shall return and brain you with it.’
‘Do not be bitter,’ said the surgeon with his irritating unflappability. ‘We have just apprehended three very dangerous criminals and you saved your colleague into the bargain. If you had not arrived when you did, he would be down in the basement now, having his veins waxed.’