The HMS Caesar sliced through the waves with the quiet confidence of a beast that knew it was the apex predator of its sea. The air carried the briny tang of the Arabian waters and the hiss of steam from the iron belly of the ship. Smoke curled from its twin stacks in long, lazy trails. Ahead, a faint green silhouette shimmered beneath the morning sun—the Indian coast.
They were less than a day away.
The world believed this was a Crown vessel on a routine diplomatic mission—a few aristocrats crossing the sea to inspect plantations or attend political functions in Calcutta. That was the official record. The truth was known to only five men on board.
In the war room beneath the main deck, the League sat together around a long mahogany table. Thick velvet curtains shut out the outside ligh
