Skyjackers Read online

  Poleax wiped his brow as he came to stand before them on the beach, hat in his hands. The Caines were enjoying a picnic luncheon of sandwiches and fresh-picked fruit. Benedict hushed the conversation and looked up at Poleax.

  “Apologies if I’m interrupting, Ben.”

  “Nonsense. You’re always welcome at our table. Come. Sit down. As a matter of fact, I was just about to divulge my plan for dispatching with a certain sky marshal captain for good and all. You remember the Oakshotts, don’t you?”

  Poleax did.

  “Oh, gods,” said Vivian. “You don’t mean Lawrence, do you?”

  “Indeed,” said Benedict. “Lawrence has rather come into his own as a person of talent.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s an assassin. A cold-blooded killer. Name any famous dead person you can think of, and I guarantee Lawrence Oakshott had something to do with it.”

  “Sally Heaton,” said Gertrude.

  “Well, not her. She died a long time ago. Before Oakshott was active in the trade.”

  “Edwina Scanlon,” said Lily.

  “Isn’t she still alive?” said Junior.

  “Oh. Yes, perhaps she is. Okay, what about Bob Clyburn then?”

  Benedict frowned. “Who’s that?”

  “You know… the singer. Bob Clyburn?”

  “Never heard of him. In any case, you’ll have to take my word for it when I tell you that Lawrence Oakshott, assassin to celebrities and everypersons alike, is the man for the job.”

  “What job?” asked Vivian.

  “The job of killing Jonathan Thorpe.”

  The family went silent. Poleax stood there, dumbfounded.

  Vivian was the first to speak. “I thought you said we weren’t murderers.”

  “We’re not,” said Benedict. “But I’ll never hesitate to employ the services of one, when the need arises.”

  “You can’t hurt my Jonathan,” said Misty. “If you lay a finger on him, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “It’s Oakshott’s fingers that’ll need the forgiving. Though after what you did to him, I dare say killing your beau would make you two about even.”

  “It isn’t fair,” Misty whined. “You can’t.”

  “I can, and I will. Thorpe has meddled in our affairs for the last time. He’s refused to fear my prowess, surrender to my threats, or keep his dirty law-abiding mitts off my daughter. Those who do not yield to lesser tactics must be subjected to harsher ones.”

  “Ben… I really have been meaning to speak with you,” said Poleax.

  “For heaven’s sake, Poleax. What is it?”

  “In private, if you don’t mind.”

  “Whatever you’ve got to say for yourself, you can bloody well say it in front of my family.”

  “I can’t, though.”

  “Then stop wasting my time and be on about your business.”

  Poleax gulped. He could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks, the sweat gathering in his palms. Today is the day, he told himself for the millionth time. Everyone was staring at him. He stared back. When he opened his mouth to speak, a whistling croak was the only sound that emerged.

  Misty giggled. “He sounds like a goose having indigestion.”

  “Hush,” said Gertrude.

  They all turned to Poleax, waiting.

  Poleax cleared his throat. “I… have been untrue. I’ve misled this family, and for that I offer my sincerest apologies. If you wish to remove me from your home and your service, I understand. Just say the word, and I’ll go.”

  Benedict rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to stage a dramatic performance, at least offer us a juicy tidbit or two about what it is you’ve done. I want details, man.” He leaned over to Gertrude. “Really, you’d think the poor chap was testifying before an ethics committee.”

  “When I came to you in need years ago,” said Poleax, “I told you I’d lost everything. That was true. Nearly everything else I told you was a fabrication.”

  “This ought to be good,” said Benedict. “Go on.”

  “You remember Longworth Cotton. The business I used to own with Avery Peters and Isaak Morrison.”

  “Yes of course. You told me your business partners tricked you into signing away your shares of the ownership.”

  “That’s where things get a bit misleading,” Poleax said. “It was I who swindled them out of their shares. Both of my former partners now own nothing.”

  “Good for you,” Benedict said with a laugh. “A man after my own heart.”

  “Yes, I thought it was very clever myself, at the time. Unfortunately, Longworth Cotton is no more.”

  “No more what?”

  “It’s gone under, Ben. It doesn’t exist. I single-handedly drove my own enterprise into the ground. That’s why I came to you penniless years ago.”

  “I see. So what has any of this got to do with me?”

  “Both Peters and Morrison have been serving ten-year prison sentences since shortly before I arrived on your doorstep. Loyal partners that they were, they took the fall on my behalf and never said a word as to my guilt.”

  “Lucky for you, I dare say.”

  “Not so lucky, as it turns out. Word through the grapevine is that Morrison has got time off for good behavior. He’s getting out of prison next week.”

  “So he’ll be destitute. Let him rot.”

  “That’s the thing, you see. Neither Peters nor Morrison know I double-crossed them. I visited each of them in prison and told them both they were signing routine pricing agreements. They’ll expect a fortune waiting for them on the outside, and what they’ll find instead is nothing. I’m a dead man.”

  “That was a daft thing to do. How did you think I could help?”

  “I didn’t,” said Poleax. “The Marquis of Bixbury has reported the Hummingbird to the authorities. If they’re not after me, my business partners soon will be. I can’t be flying about running errands for you anymore. Not for a while, at least. I need to go into hiding.”

  “Into hiding? What do you reckon this is, the witness protection program?”

  “It’ll only be for a short while. A few months or so.”

  “And where do you suggest I stow you away? In my liquor cabinet?”

  “I thought I might live with the tribesmen for a while.”

  “Then you’d better hope they don’t use your skull for a soup dish. Another option would be to try your luck in Azkatla.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” said Vivian. “There isn’t much of the hideaway left to hide in.”

  “I’ll take my chances with the tribesmen,” said Poleax. “I’ve got some academic experience where they’re concerned. Plus, it’ll be a good chance to get to know myself a bit better.”

  “Knowing oneself is overrated, in my experience,” said Benedict. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to know a thing more than I already did.”

  Poleax appeared to have made up his mind, but didn’t reply.

  “What about the Hummingbird and its crew?” Junior wanted to know.

  “Mr. Dawson shall take command in Poleax’s absence,” said Benedict. “The Hummingbird must be flown. All the ships in our fleet need to be seen if they’re to be feared. I haven’t maintained my reign of terror over the people of Esperon by hiding out when things got hot.”

  “Father,” said Vivian. “I really think you ought to reconsider calling in Lawrence Oakshott. I don’t think it’s necessary.”

  “It’s too late, Viv. I’ve already sent Cosgrove to make the call. Oakshott will be here by luncheon on Friday. As for you, Poleax, it abhors me to have been lied to. To be fair, I did say I was only giving you one last chance. But I’m tickled by that bit about you swindling your business partners. I dare say, it’s given me a new respect for you. Be off, now. Take your leave of absence. Only, be sure that when you return, you’re ready to get right back into the swing of things.”

  Poleax let out a breath so forceful it was as if he’d been holding it for h
ours. “Thank you, Ben. I will.” He hurried off to make preparations for his sabbatical.

  ***

  Atwell & Co. Railways operated out of a four-story office building in the city of Greymoor, a simple palladian affair with arched windows and a balustrade roof. When Jonathan and Alex entered the lobby, there were papers strewn across the floor. The disorder reminded Jonathan of sky marshal headquarters, and for a moment he wondered whether they’d had another earthquake.

  Since no one was sitting at the attendant’s desk, Jonathan and Alex took the stairs to the fourth floor and entered a hallway so dark and quiet Jonathan doubted there could be a business being run there at all. There was, as it turned out—but only barely. A lone clerk sat at a desk in the corner office, surrounded by stacks of folders, record books, and documents.

  “Welcome to Atwell and Company. I’m Eileen Sandmartin, manager and chief exec—oh, Mr. Atwell. Sorry about that. I didn’t recognize you.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Alex said. “It’s too dark in here to see much at all.”

  “Did you say you were the chief executive?” Jonathan asked.

  Eileen scratched a head of disheveled blonde hair and gave him a confused look. “Indeed I am.”

  “And… you work here all by yourself?”

  “That’s right.”

  Jonathan studied Alex for a moment. Judging by his pleasant demeanor and vacant grin, the situation was causing him virtually no alarm whatsoever. “Where is everyone else?”

  “It’s just me.”

  “Then who do all these empty offices belong to?”

  “Nobody in particular. What’s with all the questions?”

  Jonathan noticed a copy of the Delaney Gazette serving as a drink coaster on Ms. Sandmartin’s desk. He lifted the coffee mug and unfolded the newspaper. The headline read: EARTHQUAKES SHATTER RAILS; INDUSTRY’S FUTURE IN PERIL. There was a photograph of a chunk of land rising from the earth with a mangled section of railroad track trailing from its edge. The issue was dated four weeks prior. Jonathan handed it to Alex. “Might this have something to do with why your employees left?”

  Alex read over the headline and scanned the article beneath. “Oh dear. This article mentions Atwell and Company by name. It says our largest investors flew the coop just days before this issue was published. Traveling by train has become immensely dangerous, it says. Air travel is the way of the future.”

  “So you fired your chief executive, your investors pulled out, and your employees abandoned ship shortly thereafter.”

  “I suppose it was rather a series of unfortunate events,” said Alex.

  “I don’t know much about business,” said Jonathan, “but I think when people are running around screaming that the sky is falling—or that the ground is rising, in this case—they’re probably not engendering much confidence in a company like yours.”

  “This whole earthquake thing is rather a nuisance, isn’t it? I’d prefer to get past this mess and move on with business as usual.”

  “Alex… this is more serious than that. Have you kept a savings?”

  Alex cocked his head. “What, now?”

  “You know, a savings. Money put aside. For a rainy day, as it were.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to rephrase the question, old bean. I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

  Jonathan studied the darkened office around him. Alex wasn’t going to like what Jonathan was about to tell him. He cleared his throat. “You did know about the earthquakes… didn’t you?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “There was one down the road from your estate,” Jonathan said. “It happened while I was driving Lydia to the—” He cut himself off when he remembered the clerk was sitting there. “I couldn’t have been more than a few miles away.”

  “Really. I never felt a thing.”

  “I suggest you look into hiring an attorney. And a very good accountant. Your father’s railroad isn’t long for this world, I’m afraid. I’d start thinking about how best to liquidate your assets and preserve as much of your wealth as possible.”

  Alex went pale. For the first time since his parents’ death, Jonathan saw a sober look in his eyes. Something had breached the bubble around his carefree world of denial. “That can’t be. I don’t know how to live without money, Jon.”

  “You’re living that way right now, Alex. You just didn’t know it until today. If you act quickly, perhaps you can salvage some of what’s left before it’s all gone.”

  Chapter 25

  Everything about Lawrence Oakshott was sharp, from the dark slashes of facial hair framing his lips and jawline to the leather vest and leggings that clung to his bulges like a second skin. From a purely objective point of view, Vivian could admit Lawrence was a beautiful man. The trouble was, she knew from their time together as children that in his case, looks were deceiving.

  When Oakshott’s Stormraven splash-landed into the Kailodos inlet, Vivian’s first impression was that he could afford far more than he let on. The Stormraven was a modest cutter equipped with a bare-bones crew, but the vessel was fashioned of the finest materials and kept in pristine condition. As to its small size, she supposed a man of Lawrence’s vocation would want to travel inconspicuously.

  Vivian was irate that her father had designated her Lawrence’s welcoming committee while the rest of the family received a progress update on the new hideaway. Lawrence rowed ashore on a dinghy with only one other man, a wiry galoot in fold-over boots whose long knotted hair swelled behind a black bandana. At least five years had passed since Vivian and Lawrence had seen one another. She braced herself for the inevitable onslaught.

  “Vivian, my darling,” Lawrence said as he came near. “You look even more ravishing than I remember.” He approached, and kept right on approaching, until her face was smashed against his chest and his big barreled arms were squeezing the life out of her. He smelled of sweat and leather, a scent which, strangely enough, reminded Vivian of her father.

  “Hello, Lawrence,” she said when he’d eased up enough to let her speak.

  “This is my first man, Ladimer Unwin.”

  Unwin nodded, and Vivian returned the gesture.

  Lawrence grabbed her by the waist and held her at arm’s length. “Blimey, the gods have been good to you, haven’t they? You’re as snug as flats on a floorboard. Why, I could eat you up and come back for a second helping.”

  Vivian pushed his hands away and took a step backward. “If you’ll follow me this way, my father is anxious to see you.”

  Lawrence pouted his bottom lip. “Cold and unyielding from the start. Is that it? You have too much of your mother in you. Never fear—I’ll break through those compunctions of yours soon enough. Lead on.”

  They started down the jungle path, Oakshott’s man trailing behind them as they walked side by side. Lawrence swerved to give Vivian a playful nudge, making her stumble. When she frowned at him, he gave her an arrogant grin. “I’m sure by now you know the reason I’m here,” he said.

  “Father requires your services, as I understand it.”

  He stopped. When Vivian kept going, Lawrence seized her by the arm and spun her around, then pulled her close. Unwin turned his back to keep watch down the path. Lawrence spoke in a whisper. “I’ll do your father’s task, whatever it may be. But the real prize I’m after… is you.”

  Vivian tried to shove him away, but his chest was like an iron slab, and he didn’t budge. If he kept it up, she’d try the tender spot between his legs. Thankfully, Lawrence raised his hands in surrender and backed away.

  “Keep those hands where they are,” she said. “You won’t get them back next time.”

  “Well, now,” Lawrence said with a laugh. “If you aren’t as feisty as ever. Let’s be serious for a moment. Surely you must’ve known… I’m in love with you, Viv. Always have been.”

  “You didn’t stop pulling my hair until we were fifteen,” she reminded him.

  Lawr
ence gave her a wistful look. “And I never would have, if Misty hadn’t drugged my wine and tattooed that vile word across my forehead.”

  “How did you ever get rid of that, by the way?”

  He chuckled. “You Caines and your silly practical jokes. You always were the most adorable little thing. Oh, Vivian. Don’t you see, my darling? I’m simply mad over you. I’d pull your hair every day for the rest of my life, if only you’d let me. Give us half a chance. Won’t you, love?”

  Vivian’s heart was racing. She was alone in the forest with two men, one of questionable intent and the other of almost certain ill repute. Not that she couldn’t handle herself. If she needed to, she could have both men roasting on a spit in seconds. What worried her was how her father would react when she brought home an old family friend with a blade through his gut. “Find your own way there,” she said, and marched down the path ahead of them.

  “My, my,” Lawrence called, leering at her from behind. “I’d heard the islands were beautiful, but the sightseeing is to die for.”

  When Vivian arrived at the construction site, the foreman had just finished taking the family on a tour of the newly-leveled structure. Men were hammering wood-lath slats to the wall studs while masons spread thick gray plaster over their previous work. The family turned toward Vivian when she entered the only completed room thus far, which she guessed was to become her father’s study.

  “Where’s Oakshott?” Benedict wanted to know.

  “He fell behind. I’m sure he’ll be along.”

  “For the love of—could you not follow my instructions for five minutes? If he’s eaten by tribesmen, I’ll be awfully peevish.”

  That makes one of us, Vivian thought. “Oh, look. Here he is now.”

  Oakshott and Unwin emerged from the trees and entered the house. “Mr. Caine. How wonderful to see you,” he said, giving him a warm handshake. “It’s been too long.”