Skyjackers Page 4

  Chapter 27

  “May I speak with Captain Thorpe, please?” Vivian’s mouth was dry as she waited on the line.

  Aboard the Maelstrom, half a world away, Vin Harlow was confused. “Do you mean Jonathan Thorpe?”

  “Yes. Jonathan.”

  “Mr. Jonathan’s not aboard, I’m sad to say.”

  Vivian’s heart gave a thump. “What’s happened to him?”

  “Nothing’s happened, per se. He’s on shore leave.”

  “Is there any chance you could tell me where he is?”

  Harlow cleared his throat. “Who was this, again?”

  “It’s Vivian Caine. I fear Jonathan may be in grave danger, and I must warn him.”

  “Caine, was it? If Mr. Jonathan’s in danger, I’ll wager it’s on your account.”

  “No, I promise. I want to help him. There’s a dangerous killer after him.”

  Harlow wasn’t sure what to think. This could easily be some tactic aimed at finding Jonathan for the very killer this woman was referring to. Harlow had been a radioman with the sky marshals long enough to know better than to divulge information to strangers. Now he thought about it, he shouldn’t have even told her Jonathan wasn’t aboard. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you,” he said. “Jonathan is not available at the moment.”

  “Please, you must—” Vivian heard a click and knew she would get no further with the radioman. She slammed the receiver home and cursed.

  Nellie Reeves, the Hummingbird’s radiowoman, poked her head into the room. “Alright to come in now, mam?”

  Vivian waved her on.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear,” Nellie said.

  Vivian had sent Nellie out of the room hoping she wouldn’t overhear. The fewer witnesses to her search for Jonathan, the less chance Benedict would find out what she’d been doing. She gave a sigh of resignation and said, “Go on.”

  “Seems to me if I wanted to catch a sky marshal on shore leave, I’d find out where his family lives.”

  “How would we do that?”

  “We might check with a certain file clerk who works for your father,” Nellie said. “And from what I hear, charges him an arm and a leg for it.”

  “November Hutchins. Nellie, you’re a genius. I ought to have you switch places with Mr. Schumaker aboard the Dawnhammer. He’s half a step from useless. I’m sure Poleax wouldn’t mind.”

  Nellie smiled. “Happy to serve wherever I’m needed, mam.”

  “Let’s give Ms. Hutchins a ring. See if we can’t track our quarry by way of persuasion.”

  ***

  Lawrence Oakshott knew a good murder required planning, precision, subtlety, and a measure of luck. You couldn’t just go in weapons blazing and expect things to work out in your favor—not if you wanted to stay out of prison. Lawrence Oakshott wanted very much to stay out of prison, and so he had always conducted his assignments with the utmost care and professionalism. No mistakes. No second-guessing himself.

  Oakshott had gone to great lengths to procure the falsified documents which had gotten him aboard the Maelstrom. As a low-ranking member of the ship’s crew, he knew he wouldn’t get many opportunities to be alone with the captain. But in order to do his work the foolproof way, a few moments without any witnesses around were exactly what Lawrence needed.

  He’d taken to volunteering for steerage on the late evening shift, hoping one night the captain would emerge from his quarters, unable to sleep, and they’d find themselves together on an empty deck while the crew slept. Captain Thorpe seemed to have no trouble catching his winks, however. Once he retired for the night, there was no waking him. Oakshott had even resorted to stomping on the deck once in a while in an effort to rouse him. Thus far, he had been met with no such good fortune.

  The crew were shoveling lunch into their mouths one afternoon when the Captain came below to inspect the bunk rooms. He flipped the mattresses and rifled through the cubbyholes in search of contraband, as if the crew were prisoners aboard a transport vessel. The first mate came along behind him, double-checking everything. Lawrence had been wise enough not to bring aboard anything suspect; no poison, no guns, and no blades, aside from the standard-issue rapier he’d appropriated in the interest of appearing legitimate.

  “Pardon the interruption, men,” said the Captain. “We won’t be but a moment.”

  “It’s no bother at all,” Lawrence said. “I’ve heard you were a thorough chap, Captain Thorpe.”

  “Thorpe?” The confusion on Manchester’s face lasted only a moment. “Oh, right. Your orders probably came down before the change had been made. Sorry to disappoint you, but Jonathan Thorpe no longer serves as captain aboard this vessel. I’m Dean Manchester.”

  Lawrence was mortified. He didn’t flinch, though. Not for an instant. “My apologies, sir. Yes, I was under the impression that Thorpe was the man in charge here. Has he been reassigned, then?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes,” said Manchester. “We’re due to pick him up in Cardemere. He’s to be our new quartermaster.”

  “Ah.” Lawrence nodded.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Manchester said, “where was it you heard Thorpe was a ‘thorough chap,’ as you put it?”

  “Nowhere in particular,” Lawrence said. “Just rumor and hearsay among the rank-and-file, I suppose.”

  Manchester narrowed his eyes. “Strange that such a young buck ought to have rumors flying about him already. Makes me wonder what they’re saying about me.”

  “Good things only, I’m sure.”

  Manchester gave him a thin smile. “Do let me know if you hear anything, Mr.…”

  “Pelham, sir.”

  “Right.” Manchester stepped past him and continued his inspection.

  “Uh, Captain? Will we be given shore leave when we reach Cardemere?”

  “For a few hours, perhaps. Why? Have you got something pressing you need to do?”

  “Fairly pressing, sir.”

  “In that case, Mr. Thorpe will be taking charge of the personnel when he comes aboard. If you have a leave request, I suggest you take it up with him.”

  ***

  Lily didn’t want to play Father’s stupid game. She didn’t want to do any swashbuckling, or theft, or hijacking. She wanted to be left in peace to read and stay inside and play with Mr. Mittens and Ms. Whiskers and Mr. Freckles.

  “Where shall we set our course, Captain?” Margot Hanaffrey asked. “I know a few good places we might look for easy pickings. Smaller vessels with wealthy passengers.”

  Lily got out of bed and picked up Ms. Whiskers, grunting with the effort. The cat had become exceptionally fat these last weeks. Margot seemed to think she was pregnant, but Lily had told her that was impossible, since Ms. Whiskers and Mr. Mittens weren’t married. They were only courting. Margot was silly sometimes.

  As a result of Ms. Whiskers’ obvious gluttony, Lily had halved her rations. She couldn’t understand how a cat so big and fat could catch so many vermin, but Ms. Whiskers had eaten more rats and mice lately than even Mr. Mittens, her best mouser. She had even begun to eat roaches in the scullery and birds on the island.

  “Take us to the mainland,” Lily said. “Then fly us in circles for six days. We’ll head back to Kailodos on the seventh.”

  Ms. Hanaffrey gaped at her. “Don’t you even want to try participating? The crew are rather excited about the chance to show our strength, given that we’re the smallest ship in the fleet. They’ve been keen to get going since yesterday.”

  “Tell them we’re not to be bothered with such a waste of time. We’ve a lot of flying round in circles to do, and only six days to do it in.”

  Hanaffrey could see she was getting nowhere. “It might help boost the morale around here, if I may say so.”

  “You may not,” Lily said. “The morale is perfectly adequate.”

  “I beg your pardon, mam, but I must respectfully disagree.”

  “Then do respectfully shut up and go away.”
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  Ms. Hanaffrey bowed and took her leave, shoulders sagging at the thought of breaking the news to the crew.

  ***

  When Vivian showed up on the doorstep of 16 Robard Avenue, she had no idea what to expect. Given a dearth of suitable landing sites, the Hummingbird was hovering above the neighborhood, drawing attention from the residents. Vivian rapped on the door, hoping someone was home.

  After a few seconds, a young woman with a familiar-looking face opened up.

  “Hello,” said Vivian. “I’m looking for Jonathan Thorpe.”

  The woman scrutinized her for a few seconds, then furrowed her brow. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Vivian. I’m a friend.”

  Winifred was intrigued. Was this the friend Jon had talked about visiting? Had he gone to see Alexander Atwell at all? Maybe Jonathan had only borrowed the red motorcar as a means to impress this… friend. “Jonathan isn’t here, I’m afraid.”

  “Do you know where he is? It’s very important that I speak with him.”

  “What’s this about?”

  Vivian didn’t want to alarm the woman, who might’ve been a sister or a cousin. “I know we don’t know one another. But believe me when I say it’s in Jonathan’s best interests that I reach him at once.”

  “I imagine he’s at the train station by now. If he hasn’t boarded already.”

  “Which train?”

  “The northbound to Cardemere. Why? Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “I promise, all will be explained in due time,” said Vivian. “Thank you.”

  Vivian was halfway down the drive by the time Winifred managed to stammer out a response. She glanced skyward in amazement as the Hummingbird lifted above the treetops and wheeled in the direction of downtown.

  It was getting dark by the time the sixteen-gun brigantine set down in front of the station. Vivian and a dozen crew debarked to search the area for Jonathan. Most of Poleax’s crew had never seen Jonathan before, so Vivian instructed them to look for a man dressed in a sky marshal’s red overcoat and tan trousers.

  They found no such person along the station’s platform.

  Vivian ran to the ticket agent’s window, where a cufflinked man in a bowtie and a conductor’s hat was shuffling papers. “Excuse me. Is there a train for Cardemere today?”

  “Train for Cardemere left this afternoon, mam.”

  She cursed. “What time?”

  “Ten after five.”

  “Thank you.”

  The Hummingbird was airborne a minute later.

  “Full steam,” Vivian shouted. “Follow the tracks. Ms. Reeves, see if you can’t call the railroad and get a sketch of the route. We’ve got to catch that train.”

  Vivian hardly slept that night. She emerged from the captain’s quarters—which Poleax kept far too tidy for her liking—every so often to check the horizon. There was no sign of a train all night and all through the following day. Finally, around dusk, the first distant plumes of ash-colored smoke appeared off the ship’s port side. Nellie Reeves had found a long section of curved track that meandered through the countryside, and they’d shaved a significant amount of time off their journey by shooting straight across it.

  “Bring us close, Mr. Dawson. I’m going down.”

  “Are you sure, Captain?”

  “Just get us above that train and keep pace with the passenger section.”

  “Aye, marm.”

  The Hummingbird was a smaller, more maneuverable airship than Vivian’s Dawnhammer. Dawson swooped in low and put them over the train, but the wind was too weak to keep them apace for long. “You’ve got fifteen minutes at most,” said Dawson. “And that’s if the wind doesn’t die altogether.”

  “I’ll be quick,” Vivian said. She stepped to the edge of the deck, holding a guide rope in white-knuckled hands. She was about to drop overboard when a hand grabbed her from behind. It was Nellie Reeves.

  “Forgive me, mam, but don’t go. Chatter on the bluewave. There’s been another quake a few miles south of Cardemere. They say a chunk of the rails is missing. That whole train is done for.”

  “I’ll worry about the train,” Vivian said. “Look sharp and be ready for my return.”

  Nellie bit her lip. “If you must go, go with all haste.”

  Vivian smiled. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Ms. Reeves.” With that, she slid down the rope and landed hard on the train roof.

  Inside the dining car, passengers looked up from their tea and newspapers.

  Vivian trudged to the front end of the card and clambered down into the vestibule, where she opened the door to the lounge car. She worked her way forward from there, checking every compartment as she traversed the sleeper cars. A few passengers were sound asleep already, but most had either gone to dinner or remained cooped up in their compartments.

  When she saw the red overcoat hanging from a hook partway through the third sleeper car, Vivian knew she was in luck. She knocked on the compartment door before sliding it open.

  Jonathan did a double-take when he saw her come in. He fumbled for his sword and managed to shake it free of its scabbard. “Stay back, you. I’m in no fit state to suffer your tricks.” He backed up and pressed himself to the window.

  Vivian froze. “This is not a trick, Jonathan.”

  “Then what is it you’re doing here?”

  “Put that infernal thing away and I’ll tell you.”

  Jonathan hesitated. He lowered his sword, then sheathed it.

  “There’s been an earthquake south of Cardemere,” she told him. “This train is heading straight for a section of broken track.”

  Jonathan looked as though he believed her for a second, then grasped the hilt of his rapier again. “That’s an interesting reason for you to have come halfway across the world to find me.”

  “That’s not why I’m here. We’ll get to that later. After we stop this train.”

  “Be honest, now—if you possess that capacity. If I go with you, am I going to regret it?”

  “You’ll only regret it if you don’t.”

  They raced to the engine room, where they found the conductor snoring and full of whiskey. Jonathan shook the man to wake him. When all he did was mumble, Vivian slapped him hard across the face. He woke in a sputter. They explained the situation, prompting him to pull the brakes and bring the train to a screeching halt.

  The three of them got out and walked down the track a ways to find themselves on the brink of a great black pit, rock and dirt sloping to an imperceptible depth. The rails were bent and twisted, broken off like the photograph Jonathan had seen in the newspaper at the railway office. They’d been a few hundred yards from falling to their deaths.

  “Didn’t anyone try to warn you?” Jonathan asked the conductor. “A bluewave transmission? A signal of some kind?”

  The conductor stammered. “No—nothing that I heard.”

  “This man was clearly not in any condition to be conducting a train,” said Vivian. “We heard the chatter over my ship’s radio several minutes ago.”

  “You’ll be reported for this,” Jonathan said. “As soon as I arrive in Cardemere, I’ll be raising a complaint through the proper channels.”

  “Please,” said the conductor. “Don’t do it. I’ve got a family. A family.”

  “Does this family of yours know you don’t mind being intoxicated while hundreds of lives are in your hands?”

  The conductor scoffed. “Intoxicated? I’ve been working double and triple shifts since all this trouble with the earthquakes started. There aren’t enough of us left to fill out a schedule. I just needed a little something to take the edge off. It was only the one time, I promise.”

  Jonathan sighed. “Our more pressing concern is how we’re going to get two hundred people to Cardemere with this big hole in the way.”

  Just then, the Hummingbird landed in the field behind them, its decks teeming with rubbernecking pirates.

  “I have an idea,” Vi
vian said with a smile. “But Jonathan… I can’t let you go to Cardemere.”

  “So you have come to abduct me again,” Jonathan said, drawing his blade and putting distance between himself and Vivian.

  “No, no, no. Stop this. My father has hired a man to… do away with you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know what it means. I’m here to warn you. His name is Lawrence Oakshott. I don’t know where he’ll be waiting for you, or when he’ll strike, but you mustn’t return to your post aboard the Maelstrom. That’s where he thinks you are right now.”

  Jonathan lowered his sword. “Is that the truth?”

  When Vivian looked into his eyes, she could see his fear. “Of course it’s the truth,” she said.

  “Why are you telling me this? Why are you helping me?”

  Vivian didn’t know the answer to that. All she knew was that if Jonathan was of any great importance to Misty—which she was beginning to doubt—she couldn’t let him go near Lawrence Oakshott. “In light of recent events, I must admit helping you was not my first inclination. Humor me, Captain Thorpe.”

  Jonathan looked at Vivian, then at the waiting airship. “In that case, I can’t let you go to Cardemere either. The Hummingbird is a marked vessel. The sky marshals are hunting it down on charges of grand larceny, assault, destruction of property, and murder, due to a report filed by the Marquis of Bixbury. If you take the passengers to Cardemere, you and your whole crew will be apprehended. Furthermore, I must return to the Maelstrom and face what is waiting for me there, whatever it may be. I’ll fight for my life if I have to, but I’ll never be cowed by your father and his like. That would be the same as giving up.”

  Vivian considered this for a moment. If she’d been doing things Father’s way, the two hundred passengers aboard that train would be emptying their pockets and preparing to be left out here to fend for themselves. Vivian could win the family contest in a single stroke. In fact, she felt as though she was betraying her family by foregoing this opportunity. But somehow, Jonathan’s words had stirred something within her. If he could face a killer and accept the risk even when he knew how dangerous it was, how could she run and steal and hide without a thought for the people she was victimizing?