The scruffy lad hiked up his trousers, which seemed to be held up with gardener’s twine. “I been following Johnstone, just like you said, guv.”

“Then you’ll know he’s in Bow Street. I hope you don’t think you’re getting paid for telling me that.”

Jem shook his shaggy head. “No! That’s what I come to tell you. You ain’t got ’im.”

“I saw him myself in the cells,” Alex said.

“No, you ain’t. Your boys scooped up the wrong man. They arrested Fergus Johnstone, ’is cousin. He’s the coxswain. They look almost identical.”

Ben and Alex shared a glance. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I went to Bow Street meself, pretendin’ to take ’im a meal. It’s Fergus, all right.”

“So where’s Tom Johnstone, then?”

“A brothel in Covent Garden. With three of ’Ammond’s old crew.” He glanced at Benedict. “You know ’em. Shadwell, Finnegan, and Daws. They all dodged the Gravesend raid.”

Benedict cursed under his breath. Those three had been the most vicious cutthroats in the smuggling gang.

“Johnstone thinks he’s safe, seeing as you think you’ve got ’im locked up,” Jem continued. “’E’s coming to move that boat.”

“Johnstone’s on his way to launch the sub tonight?” Alex repeated.

“That’s what I said, ain’t it? You got about ’arf an hour, maybe less. They wants to catch the tide.”

Benedict blew out a breath. “Good job, Jem.”

He reached into his pocket and pressed a gold sovereign into the boy’s grubby palm. The cheeky blighter had the audacity to test it between his teeth before he slipped it into his pocket. He caught Seb’s look of astonishment and sent him a gap-toothed smile. “Can’t be too careful, can yer? Not wiv all these crooks and coiners around, eh?”

Benedict glanced at his colleagues. “Ambush?”

Two sets of eyes twinkled in anticipation. “Oh yes.”

He glanced at Georgie and his stomach pitched. Bloody hell. He’d never intended to involve her in anything so risky. He needed to get her out of here. “Perhaps we should come back another night.”

Three sets of eyes glared at him in astonishment.

“And let Johnstone get away with the submarine?” Georgie growled. She sent him a scornful look that clearly maligned his manhood. “Never. Stop worrying about me, Wylde, and let’s get in there while we still have time.”

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes flashed sparks, and he wanted to grab the back of her neck and kiss some sense into her, the stubborn, headstrong wretch. She raised her brows at him in silent challenge, and her obstinate expression was indicative of an iron will behind that velvet facade.