Skyjackers Page 3

  “Please, call me Ben. You’re a grown man now. It’s time we started thinking of one another as peers.”

  “That would be too much for me, Mr. Caine. How could I consider myself the equal of a man so illustrious and revered as yourself?”

  Benedict grinned proudly. “I’ve always liked this one. Why doesn’t everyone say hi, and then we can get down to business?”

  Lawrence made the rounds. Gertrude remarked about how tall he’d grown. He kissed her on both cheeks and gave her a hug that lifted her off her feet.

  Junior beamed, a young man reuniting with his childhood hero. Lily gave Lawrence a delicate hug. When he opened his arms to Misty, she spat on the floor and cursed at him.

  Benedict groaned. “Not on the new parquet, Misty.”

  “I can see I’m only partially welcome here,” said Lawrence.

  “Don’t mind her,” said Junior. “She’s always like that.”

  Misty tried to stomp on Junior’s foot, but he was ready for it, and moved.

  “I do recall,” said Lawrence, rubbing his forehead.

  “Children. Behave yourselves,” said Benedict. “Now that Lawrence is finally here, I don’t need you scaring him off again. Shall we talk business, Oakshott?”

  “I’m all ears,” Lawrence said, giving Vivian a wink.

  “The bloke’s name is Jonathan Thorpe. He’s a captain with the sky marshals, and he’s overstepped the bounds of professional antagonism. He’s been unresponsive to my warnings, and he’s too moral to accept a bribe. I want him put out. For good.

  Lawrence scratched his knifelike beard. “Thorpe, you say? I could swear I’ve heard that name, but I can’t quite put my finger on where.”

  Lawrence had in fact heard the name, but only once. Shortly after Jonathan had confiscated the Finustrian crown jewels from the home of Gil Hill, the jeweler had radioed Lawrence Oakshott in a last-ditch attempt to get them back. Since Hill had spent the last of his money buying the jewels, he’d begged Oakshott to retrieve them on credit. Oakshott had laughed in his face and hung up.

  “That wouldn’t surprise me,” Benedict said. “Thorpe has been a thorn in my side ever since Admiral Farrelly made the idiotic decision to put him in command. I don’t doubt the young whelp has given a few other sides a good thorning as well. I want this done, Oakshott. Name your price.”

  “Your money is no good to me, Mr. Caine. You have only one thing I want, and there’s no amount in all the world that could take its place.”

  Benedict was intrigued. “Oh? And what might that be?”

  Lawrence sidled up next to Vivian and draped a heavy arm across her shoulders. “Your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  The family gave a collective gasp of astonishment. Vivian tried to duck out from under Lawrence’s arm, but he gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her close. The crew stopped working on the house. Everyone erupted in applause—all except Misty, who stood with her arms folded.

  Benedict scratched his head. “I dare say… that is quite a proposal. But you know, come to think of it, I have always wanted a son.”

  “You have a son, Ben,” Gertrude reminded him.

  “Yes, well, that’s not really the same, is it? With a son-in-law, you can do things together. Man-things. Like robbing. And stealing, and… taking things.”

  “Plundering?” Oakshott suggested.

  “There you go. See, Gertrude? We’re a father-son team already.”

  “It’s settled, then,” said Lawrence. “All we need now is a marriage. I’ll simply dispatch with this Thorpe fellow and we’ll get on with it.”

  Benedict grinned from ear to ear. “Jolly good.”

  Junior frowned, and Vivian could see the hurt in his eyes. He fled the house and jogged off into the jungle, but the others were too busy chattering and hugging and backslapping to notice.

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” Vivian shouted. No one heard her above the commotion. She pried Lawrence Oakshott’s big meaty hand off her shoulder and flung it away, then left the hideaway and followed Junior. She jogged a few hundred feet into the jungle before she caught sight of him.

  Junior looked back and saw her coming. “Leave me alone.”

  “June Bug, wait. Father didn’t mean it.”

  “Of course he did. Father always means it. All I’ve ever wanted was to make him proud of me. I try every day to accomplish something that’ll make him notice how well I’ve done. But has he praised my efforts even once? No. Of course not. I’m just his boring, unpopular, bibliophile son who prefers astronomy and engineering to piracy and pontificating.”

  “So you’ve got different interests,” said Vivian. “So what? It doesn’t mean he’s any less proud of you. He just doesn’t understand you as well as someone like Lawrence. Those two have got enough bluster between their ears to fill a gasbag.”

  Junior chuckled, but his eyes were welling up. He threw his arms around Vivian and gave her a long embrace. Unused to such affection from her brother and unsure what to do about it, she gave him a tender pat on the shoulder blade. After a time, Junior pulled back and wiped his cheeks with a sleeve. “Thanks, Viv. And congratulations, by the way.”

  “Don’t you dare congratulate me. I’m not marrying that cretin.”

  Junior looked confused. “Then what was all that about?”

  “It was about Lawrence Oakshott entrenching himself where he’s not wanted. If he thinks for one second he can storm in here and drag me off like some caveman with a cudgel, he’s about to get more than he bargained for.”

  Junior appeared no less confused. “Does this mean you’re not in love with him?”

  “In love with him? Why, of all the ridiculous notions—”

  “Alright,” said Junior, lifting his hands. “Sorry I asked.”

  “Why in the heavens would you think that?”

  “I don’t know. Lawrence strikes me as the sort of man every woman would be in love with.”

  “There’s no sort of man every woman would be in love with. Granted, the strong, handsome, capable type is always in demand. But being nice to look at and nice to share a home with aren’t always the same thing.”

  “What do you mean to do?”

  “I’ve got a few ideas. You wouldn’t be open to helping me, would you?”

  Junior sniffled. “Foil Lawrence’s mission and ruin Father’s plans all at once? Right about now, there’s nothing I’d rather do.”

  “Right then. First things first. My airship is indisposed at the moment. Can I borrow yours?”

  “Only if you let me come along,” said Junior.

  “Oh, alright. But Father must never hear of this.”

  Junior thrust out a hand. “It’s a deal.”

  Vivian eyed the hand with distaste. “You needn’t be so formal about it. Just make sure Father doesn’t find out.”

  “You can count on me, Viv.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him. “Can I, though?”

  “If we shake on it, you’ll know I’m a man of my word.”

  “I won’t know that until Father’s on his deathbed and still hasn’t found out about this,” Vivian said. “Come on, then. Don’t dawdle.” She turned and started toward the beach.

  Chapter 26

  Poleax took no one with him when he ventured into the jungles of Kailodos late the following afternoon. He brought a bedroll, a knapsack, and two shoulder bags packed with supplies for the month or two he planned to spend in the wilderness. By sundown, he’d failed to see a single sign of the tribesmen. He had succeeded at one thing, however: getting completely lost.

  He built a fire and fried up a chunk of swordfish in a cast-iron skillet. He’d been a decent cook once, but he was so out of practice he took the skillet off too early and wound up with a steak that was still raw and pinkish-gray in the middle. The day’s march had rendered him too tired and hungry to bother building up the fire again, so he endured his own poor cooking and ate the whole thing.

  When he was done,
he set his plate aside and drew a slender black case from his knapsack. He unfastened the clasps, removed the two halves of the piccolo flute from the molded velvet interior, and fastened them together. When he set the instrument to his lips and began to play, the forest quieted as if in response. Poleax closed his eyes and lost himself in the music.

  At song’s end, he opened them to find several faces peering at him from the brush. He gave a start and dropped his flute in the leaves. Silhouettes emerged from the gloom, their swarthy skin smeared with white fingerpaint and shining in the firelight. Poleax stood up and backed toward the low-burning fire, gripping the hilt of his cutlass.

  The tribesmen were all around him, rustling not a single branch as they stalked closer. A broad-faced man carrying a thin spear stepped forward. Poleax was an instant away from drawing his sword and fighting for his life when the tribesman did a curious thing.

  Bending to pick up the flute from where it lay in the leaves, the native rested his spear in the crook of his arm and held out the instrument to Poleax, letting it rest on his open palms as though offering some token of peace. Poleax took it, making no sudden movements. The tribesman and his kin stood waiting. Poleax froze, unsure whether to fight or flee.

  After a moment, the tribesman glanced down at the flute, flapped a hand, and said something Poleax couldn’t understand.

  “You want me to play?”

  Another string of unintelligible words.

  Poleax lifted the flute to his lips and began the same song he’d just finished, the only one he knew by heart. A toothy smile spread over the tribesman’s face as the instrument’s smooth twittering sound filled the little clearing. The natives looked around at one another, smiling and nodding.

  Poleax finished the song. Again, the man flapped his hand and grunted a few words.

  “Oh, dear gods,” Poleax muttered, lifting the flute once more. “It’s going to be a long couple of months.”

  ***

  Vivian and Junior were preparing the Stratustarian for departure when their father called them back to the island. They considered taking off without responding, but the ship wasn’t ready, and they both knew that when Father called, you came. They trudged up the beach with sandy water in their boots to meet Benedict, Gertrude, and their two sisters at the edge of the jungle.

  “That’s the ticket,” Benedict shouted. “Put some hustle into it.”

  “What is it, Dad?” Junior asked, hands on his knees.

  “You remind me of a beached flounder. What is it you two are doing out there? It looks as though the Stratustarian is preparing to shove off.”

  “It is.”

  “Where to, if I might be so bold?”

  Vivian thought quickly. “Supply run. For the Dawnhammer.”

  “Poleax has already used that excuse, I’m afraid. Better think of something else. Besides, this island is teeming with wood. It’s practically made of the stuff.”

  “Not those sort of supplies,” Vivian said. “Powder and shot.”

  “For what?”

  “For the inevitable increase in Regency attention after you’ve murdered Captain Thorpe.”

  “Not this again,” said Lily. “You’re getting married, Viv. You ought to hang up this unhealthy obsession once and for all.”

  “Vivian isn’t obsessed with Jonathan,” said Misty. “I am. She doesn’t know him like I do.”

  “You’ve barely met the chap but once,” Vivian pointed out.

  Benedict raised his voice. “Quiet, all of you. Wherever you and Junior were about to go, forget it. I’ve decided to organize a little family activity.”

  “Your family activities always involve stealing things, or stealing people, or one right after the other,” Lily said.

  “You’re in luck, Lily-Billy. This one involves all five.”

  “All five of what?”

  “The rules are as follows. We’ll pair off by ship and split up for one week. Since the Dawnhammer is out of commission and Poleax is off on his journey of self-discovery, Vivian shall take command of the Hummingbird. The idea is for each vessel to set off on its own and plunder as many small, defenseless targets as possible. Whichever ship has stolen the most booty by the end of the week is the big winner.”

  “Ooh, what’s the prize?” Junior asked.

  “The prize is not being the laughing stock of the family. Unless you finish last, in which case you will be.”

  “This sounds like a cheap ploy for some quick money to make up for missing out on the Justice,” Misty said.

  Benedict gave her a plastic smile. “We mustn’t theorize about Daddy’s ulterior motives, poppet. This is a family bonding activity.”

  Junior frowned. “How can we bond if we’re each on our own airship, miles apart?”

  “Through competition.”

  “Daddy and Mummy will be bonding by not having us around, if you get my meaning,” Misty said. She flicked her tongue and gyrated her hips as she slid her hands down her sides.

  The other Caine children gave a collective cry of disgust.

  “By the gods, Misty,” Benedict said with a chuckle. “Have you no shame?”

  Lily looked as though she’d just tasted something bad. “Why would you ever want to think about Mum and Dad—ugh.” She broke off with a shudder.

  Misty only grinned.

  Gertrude lifted her brow in disapproval. “Now, now, children. One mustn’t let one’s imagination run away with itself. After all, some bonding isn’t what it used to be…”

  “Alright, let’s get on with it,” Benedict said. “Everyone to their posts. You have one week. And Vivian… be careful with the Hummingbird. The marshals may be watching out for it.”

  Amid groans and grumbles about everything from the contest to the weather, Benedict waved them off and hurried to his ship. He was the only one who hurried.

  As the rest of the family dispersed, Vivian pulled Junior aside. “I’ll take the Hummingbird on my own, like Father wants,” she told him. “We’ll circle round and meet up on the mainland somewhere. I’ll be in touch.”

  Junior gave her a nod and a wink.

  Vivian couldn’t help but feel guilty as she headed for the Hummingbird. She would meet up with Junior… eventually. First she had to warn Jonathan of his impending doom, and she didn’t want anyone in the family knowing about it.

  ***

  When the Maelstrom made landfall in Millbarrow a few days later, a marshal by the name of Brewster Pelham came aboard and reported for duty. He was a tall man with sharp features and a strapping build that strained against the seams of his uniform, which didn’t fit him all that well to begin with. Several on the Maelstrom’s crew noticed this, but none thought to make mention of it to the Captain.

  Dean Manchester welcomed Pelham into his private quarters and sat him down for an interview. Did he have his papers? Where had he been stationed before? What was the reason for his reassignment? Who had given the order? To all these questions, Pelham gave polite but thorough answers. In the end, his story checked out, and the documents he gave Manchester were signed and stamped in a way that suggested they were authentic.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr. Pelham,” Manchester said, shaking the man’s hand. Pelham’s grip was vice-like, his smile pleasant but somehow unsettling.

  “Glad to be aboard… Captain,” said Pelham.

  “Go below and find yourself an empty bunk. Once you’re all settled in, report to Mr. Bigsby for your work assignment. We shove off first thing in the morning.”

  “Aye, sir.” Lawrence Oakshott pushed himself up from the table and left the captain’s quarters. Though he hadn’t yet learned the captain’s name, he was convinced that the man who had just interviewed him was, in fact, Jonathan Thorpe.

  ***

  Falstead’s train station was bustling with afternoon foot traffic by the time Alexander Atwell pulled up in his black convertible. Jonathan was in the passenger seat, not at all looking forward to the long ride back to Cardemere, or what a
waited him thereafter.

  “So it’s back to the chapel for you, is it?” asked Alex.

  “I’ve told you, Alex. I’m not a chaplain, I’m a—”

  “Yes, yes, I know… Captain Thorpe. Lighten up, old bean.” He slapped him on the shoulder.

  “I wish I could stay and help you get this dreadful business with the company sorted out,” said Jonathan. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

  “I’m always alright,” Alex said. “Except right now. I’ve got a good team behind me, thanks to you. We’ll see what we can salvage out of this mess. Perhaps I’ll have enough leftover to buy myself a little chalet in the mountains where I can spend the rest of my days outcast from polite society.”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re going to be fine. Just be wise about things, and trust the advice of your counselors. You won’t have money to blow your nose with like you do now, but you’ll be comfortable.”

  “That is again thanks to you, old bean. You’re the best friend a man could ask for.”

  “Alex. Don’t. I’ll see you in a few months. Or whenever it is I’m allowed shore leave again.”

  “Don’t be a stranger.”

  Jonathan got out and slung his bag over his shoulder. He waved as Alex drove off, then bought a train ticket and sat on an empty bench outside the station. The sun was low in the sky, and the wind brought with it the insidious chill of early autumn. Jonathan’s reds were folded up inside his bag, cleaned and pressed. He was supposed to wear them while traveling to and from shore leave, but he hadn’t wanted to put them on again. He didn’t feel like a sky marshal anymore. He wasn’t a captain; he wasn’t even first mate.

  But if Jonathan had wanted to find a new vocation through which to support his family, that window was closed now. He couldn’t ask Alex for help now, even if he wanted to. Alex would’ve given generously to see Jonathan’s mother well-cared for, even though he couldn’t afford it right now.

  No, when it came to his financial struggles, Jonathan was on his own. He needed to come up with something fast, or not only would his mother and sister be in dire straits—he’d have to admit to Winifred that putting him through the academy had all come to naught. He couldn’t imagine how disappointed she’d be if she found out. If the one person in the world who’d always supported him had no reason to do so anymore, Jonathan wasn’t sure how he was going to live with himself.