“I think you’d do well.”
Ellen smiled. “Thank you.”
“The Militia are—” The speaker broke off abruptly, her head turning to the window.
Throughout the mess hall, the silence spread, leaping from Ranger to Ranger. The only sound in the resulting void was of pounding hooves, growing louder by the second.
“Outside.” Maggie snapped the order.
The Rangers abandoned their meal, filing from the mess hall quicker, and with less fuss, than Ellen would have thought possible. She was carried along with the flow.
The sky was pale washed blue, with a few ragged bands of cloud drifting over. The evening breeze was stiffening into chill gusts and the shadows were lengthening across the central parade ground. Sunset was under an hour away. Ellen shielded her eyes against the low sun. As she expected, the figure jumping down from horseback was Mel Ellis.
The remnants of the 12th Squadron were still on official leave of absence, yet Mel had pleaded for the chance to be involved in the capture of the Susie-Louise. Ellen suspected the refusal to let Mel play an active role was due to fears that her desire for revenge might prejudice the taking of live prisoners, rather than any doubts about her fitness. Giving her the lookout duty had been a compromise.
With another member of the 12th, Mel had been camped in a patch of woodland, upriver of Roadsend. The spot was on the bank, close enough to the water to read the names on passing barges, yet with enough cover for the Rangers to stay hidden from the crews. It was also at a suitable distance so that, on a fast horse, the lookouts could get news to the barracks in time for the two Patrols to be in position and waiting for the Susie-Louise at the docks. This was why Ellen had been living with the Rangers. When word came, it would not be possible to summon her from elsewhere. The timing would be down to seconds.
Mel’s arrival had brought Major Kallim from the admin block. She called from the top of the steps, “You’ve spotted it?”
“Yes, ma’am. I reckon the Susie-Louise will be at the docks in a quarter hour.”
Mel’s voice was sharp and controlled, although her body was knotted with tension. Ellen wondered if she imagined a sound like sparks of leaping static.
Kallim faced the gathered Rangers. “Okay. You know the plan.”
A wagon was ready waiting, and horses were harnessed. Ellen clambered onto the driver’s seat beside Maggie LeCoup. The frame shook as the rest of the Rangers piled in behind. Even before the activity had ceased, Maggie shook the reins, urging the horses into a steady trot. Ellen twisted around and leaned back, assisting in pulling up the canvas that would hide the uniformed Rangers from view.
The wagon rounded the corner of a building, leaving the parade ground. Ellen gave a last tug at the canvas and then glanced up. Kallim and another officer were saddling horses by the steps of the admin block, ready to follow discreetly. Mel stood hunched, a lonely figure in the middle of the expanse of trampled dirt, staring fixedly at the departing wagon. Even at a distance, the expression on her face made Ellen recoil. Mel wielded her grief and anger like an assassin with a poisoned blade.
The barrack gateway and then the familiar streets of Roadsend slipped by to the steady clop of hooves. Ellen listened with half an ear to the whispered comments from under the canvas, hoping to distract her thoughts. It did not work. She was unsure whether her main emotion was apprehension or relief. The waiting was over, along with all the preparation and planning.
At the Eastford docks, Ellen had been lucky to catch a ride on a private ferry, rather than a slower cargo barge, and had reached Roadsend mere hours after the Susie-Louise had left, heading upriver. The fact the barge had gone through Roadsend was taken to mean that Ellen’s interception of the rowboat had forced the gang to change tactics. Ellen regarded this as a minor victory. Maybe jumping into the boat had been poorly thought out, but it had achieved something worthwhile.
Now the Susie-Louise was returning, presumably with a load of stolen sheep as cargo, and some sort of forged documentation to get past the Militia inspection. Ellen chewed on her lip, wondering if she had missed something obvious and was about to end up looking stupid. Had Fran really misheard the name Susie-Louise and innocently assumed it referred to a person? The barge was certainly fulfilling a vital role in the gang’s operation. Maybe the loyalty of the crew was in question from the Butcher’s point of view. So was Ade Eriksen on board, acting as a minder? Things might turn very nasty. Ade would never let herself be captured without a fight.
The journey to the sheep docks was soon over and the quayside appeared before them at the end of the road. Ellen needed to get off the wagon before it emerged into the open. The sight of a Militiawoman hitching a ride was not unusual enough to attract attention in town. However, it would jeopardize the plan if the crew associated Ellen with the wagon. After a last word of encouragement from Maggie, Ellen jumped down. The cobbles felt unusually solid beneath her feet. The wagon rolled on.
Ellen jogged down a side alley that led her onto the sheep docks. No barges were moored on the quay and the pens were deserted, except for a couple of farmers talking animatedly, with their dogs lying at their feet. The nearby doors of the Twisted Crook Tavern were propped open.
Off to Ellen’s right, the Rangers’ wagon had just trundled onto the docks and was moving into position. Meanwhile, upriver, a distant barge, sails and mast down, was negotiating the arches under South Bridge. Was this the Susie-Louise? The thought added extra impetus as Ellen marched toward the Militia office. She rounded the corner.
Terrie Rasheed was standing by the doorway, also watching the barge. The sound of feet made her turn. “What’s the... What do you want?” Terrie’s tone became appreciably more hostile when she recognized Ellen.
“There’s a barge coming.”
“Yeah? Do you think I can’t see it?”
“It’s called the Susie-Louise.”
“And what—”
Ellen cut her off. She did not have time to play at question-and-answer. “When it gets here, I want you to tell it to moor down there. I’m going to inspect it.” Ellen pointed along the dockside, to a point close by where Maggie had just stopped the wagon.
“I don’t have to do what you tell me to.”
“It’s not me who’s telling you to do it.”
“You just did.”
“And you know who I’m speaking on behalf of.”
“Supposing I decide to say no?”
Ellen sighed. Terrie’s petty-minded belligerence was getting tedious. “Then you’ll be out of a job tomorrow, without a pension.”
“I—”
“Look. Just let it go and stop acting like an idiot.”
Terrie literally took a step back. “I’m the one on duty here. You think you’re so great, kissing the major’s ass. All the fucking Rangers are—”
“Okay. Just shove off. Get off the dock altogether and leave it to me.”
Ellen glanced around briefly. Maggie LeCoup had jumped down from the driver’s seat and tied the horses’ reins to a rail. The Rangers had said they wanted Ellen on hand when the boat moored, since she was the only one who would recognize Adeola Eriksen’s face, but there was no reason why she could not direct the barge to move down the dock and then follow on foot. The disguised Ranger sergeant was definitely astute enough to catch on and adapt to the minor change in plan.
Terrie’s face held an expression like thunder, but then she ducked her head and spat on the ground. “Fuck it. I don’t give a shit. You go and play your stupid-assed games with the Rangers.” She stormed into the Militia office, slamming the door behind her.
The barge was now less than fifty meters upstream, heading to the dock. Despite the failing light, it was close enough for Ellen to read the letters ise painted on the prow where it curved around, the ending of the barge’s name. Three women were visible on deck, the skipper at the tiller at the rear and two others, balanced at the front. Normally, barges had a crew of four. Where was the othe
r one? Ellen took a deep breath. Was the barge shorthanded? Or was the missing person Ade Eriksen, who was keeping out of sight for fear of being recognized in her hometown?
Ellen marched down the quay. Maggie was watering the horses, acting like an ordinary warehouse owner, taking a late delivery. Ellen stopped a few meters away—close enough so the concealed Rangers could jump down beside her in an instant, yet not so close as to link herself with the wagon.
At the other end of the dock, the Susie-Louise drifted slowly closer. One of the crew had a coiled rope in hand, ready to moor the vessel. The other had a barge pole planted in the riverbed, putting her weight into guiding the Susie-Louise through the last couple of meters.
Terrie reappeared from the office and stomped to the waterside. Her posture, fists on hips, made it clear that her temper had not improved. Just before the barge knocked against the dock wall, Terrie held up her hands, in a gesture that could only mean “stop.”
The skipper called out indistinctly. Terrie did not reply, but instead, in one long step, boarded the barge. She sidled along the gunwales to the rear. The two crewmembers watched her talk with the skipper, while exchanging their own comments, too low to be overheard. The one with the rope tossed it halfheartedly around a bollard, but made no attempt to pull it tight and moor the barge securely, clearly waiting for instructions.
Ellen clenched her jaw. Of course, she had not told Terrie to keep off the barge and the pig-headed corporal was going to be as awkward as she could, without stepping over the line of disobeying orders. Ellen’s frustration moved up yet another notch when Terrie and the skipper disappeared below deck. There was nothing she could do. Boarding the barge herself was dangerous and unnecessary. Ellen wanted the Rangers at hand for any confrontation with Ade Eriksen, and sooner or later, Terrie would have to stop mucking around.
After an increasingly tense minute, the skipper’s head appeared through the hatchway. She waved at her crew. “Take it down. By where the other Blackshirt is. We’re mooring there.”
The skipper again ducked out of sight. The crewwomen moved to follow instructions. One slipped the rope free while the other leaned on her pole, easing the Susie-Louise along the dockside.
The barge bobbed closer to Ellen. Oblique sunlight was smeared across the river with an oily golden sheen. The creak of wood and the slop of water against the hull overlay the distant bleating of sheep and the first stanza of song from the Twisted Crook taproom.
Ellen took a step to the side, waving the barge on and pointing to a convenient bollard. The woman with the rope nodded. If she was a Knife, she was also a good actress. Her expression was bland and untroubled, showing no trace of guilt. Her colleague looked less content, but only what might be expected from someone who had been given extra work to do. Ellen fought to keep her own face and manner relaxed. Answers would be forthcoming, just as soon as the barge was securely tied up.
Without warning, shouts erupted below deck, changing to a scream and then dying. A second cry ended in an agonized moan.
Maggie LeCoup was the first to react, barking an order. Ellen’s eyes remained fixed on the Susie-Louise, but she did not need to look back to sense the Rangers surging into action. She heard the sound of canvas being kicked aside and then boots hitting the cobbles. Green-clad figures fanned out on either side.
The crew had flinched at the first cry, but made no move to either flee or investigate. Now both were frozen in indecision. The barge was less than a meter from the dock. Ellen was about to jump aboard when a figure burst through the hatchway, onto the deck. Even in the fading light, Ellen instantly recognized Ade Eriksen. An instant was all she got. Ade’s eyes raked along the dock, taking in the welcoming party, and then she turned and dived into the river. A second later, another splash announced that someone else had joined her in the water.
“No, you don’t.”
The sharp voice snared Ellen’s attention. Her head jerked toward the sound. Two Rangers had already boarded the Susie-Louise and grabbed the remaining crewmember—the one who had held the rope. The woman struggled fruitlessly until a third Ranger arrived with cord to bind her hands.
All along the dockside was tightly controlled chaos. Maggie and the other sergeant were shouting orders. More Rangers had boarded the barge and dropped down through the open hatch. Others were moving downriver, hunting the fugitives who had dived in. The prisoner was bundled off the barge, reaching the wagon just as Major Kallim and the other officer arrived on horseback. The plan had been for them to watch from a position, nearby, yet out of sight.
A Ranger by the hatch was relaying information from the others who had gone below deck.
“Front hold clear—nothing but sheep. Main cabin—one dead, one wounded.”
Ellen jumped onto the barge. Her instructions for after the Susie-Louise was captured had been vague. Certainly she had not been ordered to stay on the dock. And much as she disliked Terrie Rasheed, that did not mean she wished the woman dead. Who had screamed?
The light below decks was dim, and moving dark figures further blocked Ellen’s view, but she had been in enough barges to know the layout. The front of the barge was the main hold, where the sheep were kept. The rear of the barge held their fodder. Midship was the crew quarters, with the skipper’s cabin and the bunkroom. Indirect lamplight glinted from this region and someone was moaning.
Ellen stopped at the doorway of the skipper’s cabin—a cramped space three meters square, containing a bunk, a table, a tall cupboard, and two chairs. The lantern hung from the ceiling. Two Rangers were standing in there, sending huge shadows leaping around the room as they moved, and Terrie Rasheed was sitting on the floor, her back propped against the wall. The hilt of a knife protruded from her shoulder. Her lips were white, but twitching in gasps.
Another woman, the skipper, lay on her back, twisted awkwardly between table and wall. The front of the skipper’s shirt was soaked red. More blood trickled across the floorboards beneath her.
“What’s the score here?”
Ellen stepped back at Major Kallim’s voice. “The skipper’s dead, ma’am. Corporal Rasheed is injured.”
“What the hell was she playing at? Going below deck?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I didn’t...” Ellen stopped. Judging by the major’s expression, this was not the time for debate and excuses.
Kallim stood at the doorway studying the interior. “Is the Militia corporal okay to move?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d have said so,” one of the Rangers answered.
“Then get her up on deck and out of the way. And get the two sergeants to meet me down here immediately.”
Ignoring Terrie’s whimper of complaint, the two Rangers hoisted her off the floor. Ellen moved to assist, but Kallim held her back. “I want you to have a look at the skipper. See if you recognize her. Or can spot anything in her cabin out of place. You know how it ought to be.”
Once the room was empty, Ellen slipped in, trying to avoid treading in blood. It was not easy. She crouched beside the dead skipper. The woman was a little below average height, with a pinched face, long nose, and hair tied back in a ponytail.
“Do you know her?”
Ellen chewed her lip as a memory stirred. “I...I think maybe.”
Footsteps interrupted, as Maggie and the other sergeant arrived. “Ma’am?”
“The two who got away. Any news?”
“Archers got one. We’re fishing her out at the moment. We think the other’s got away.”
Kallim nodded. “Right. Get back up there and tell your girls if they spot her to make sure their aim isn’t too good.”
“You want her to get away?”
“For now. We’ll have a briefing in twenty minutes, on the docks. Who are your two best trackers?”
The sergeants exchanged a glance. Maggie spoke for them. “That would be Corporal O’Neil from my patrol and Leading Ranger Chan from 10B.”
“I want them at the briefing as well.” Kallim looked at
Ellen. “You too. You’ve got twenty minutes to see if you can find out anything of use.”
The Rangers departed, leaving Ellen alone with the dead skipper.
*
By the time Ellen trotted down the gangplank of the now securely moored barge, the sun had touched the horizon and light was fading fast. News had spread and a collection of inquisitive townsfolk were being kept at bay by a cordon of Rangers. Drinkers from the Twisted Crook had come out, tankards in hand, to watch.
Terrie had been put in the back of the wagon and one of Dr. Miller’s healers was on hand, tending to her. Both sergeants hovered nearby, with two other Rangers. Even before Ellen stopped by the tailgate of the wagon, she could hear Terrie complaining. Some things never changed.
Kallim marched up. “Okay. First thing.” She looked at the healer. “Can the corporal speak?”
The healer’s expression made it clear that shutting Terrie up was a bigger challenge. “Yes. I want to get her to the infirmary. But there’s no rush.”
Terrie scowled, but did not argue.
Kallim folded her arms. “So? What happened? Why did you go below deck?”
Terrie gestured at Ellen with her good arm. “She didn’t warn me not to.”
“I’ll bet she didn’t tell you not to hit yourself over the head with a baseball bat either. Some things you ought to be able to leave to common sense. You could have worked out there was trouble with the barge.” Kallim was clearly not about to put up with the surly excuses.
Terrie modified her tone. “The skipper called me on. She said she wanted to show me something below deck.”
“You didn’t think that was suspicious?”
“Like you said. There was obviously something up with the boat, but I didn’t know what. I thought the skipper might have information you’d need.”
“So what did she say?”
“She reckoned she’d picked up the sheep from Jan’s Creek and Three Dollars, but some of the ear tattoos didn’t match up. She wanted to show me the sales receipts. I went down to her cabin. We talked a bit. I was in the corner. She was by the door. Then Ade Eriksen rushed in.” Terrie pouted. “You hadn’t been careful enough and she seen something. She knew it was a trap. For some reason, she blamed the skipper. She said, ‘The Boss was right to have me watch you.’ Then she pulled a knife. Before I could move, she’d stabbed the skipper twice. She went to run off. I tried to grab her and she stabbed me as well. And that’s all I know.”
Shadow of the Knife Page 20
