The Mind Pirates (Harbingers Book 10)

by Frank Peretti

  “So why should they wear one of ours?” asked Norwig.

  “What about the mark?”

  “Aye, we met him. Mr. Ling. Cold as ice and not to be tangled with.”

  The Captain gave that pill time to go down. “Ling, you say? And where might he be?”

  “Scarfing some barbecue.” Norwig jerked his thumb toward the dining plaza.

  The Captain, with Andi in tow, hurried back onto the wharf. “Gentlemen!” Scalarag and I snapped to a ragged attention. “You’ll return to the ship. Scalarag, we’ll be about a new business now. Have the prof lend a hand, and keep him under your watchful eye.” To me, “Sorry, prof. Still need to keep your pretty assistant in the right frame of mind, and . . . can’t have you talking or passing notes to anyone, now can we?”

  The parrot gave me a little wave and a lingering look as it walked beside the Captain toward the village. Well. Of course Thatch would want her under his control at all times. Andi was falling into the role, waving, squawking, posing for pictures beside her flamboyant master.

  And what could I do as a prisoner? A hostage? Insurance to keep Andi in line? As Scalarag escorted me up the gangplank my anger was getting the better of me. “So what now? Leg irons again? More humiliation while the silly game goes on?”

  “No,” Scalarag answered.

  “And to think at one time you had a conscience!”

  “I said No. No leg irons. Plan B.”

  I looked back at him. He nudged me onto the deck where we were unseen by those ashore. “The Cap has a nose for trouble and we might be in it. We have to load the cannons.”

  “What!?”

  He led the way below, toward the front of the hold. “You told me to do the right thing. Well, this is the right thing.” He stopped and faced me. “To my way of thinking, anyway.”

  He hurried onward, I followed. He came to a secure door, unlocked it, and flung it open. Inside were barrels upon barrels neatly stacked, each bearing the label National Munitions Inc.

  I’d seen a few of these barrels topside during the mock cannon firing. “Gunpowder?”

  He gazed at the huge cache with visible awe and nodded. “Let’s each grab one.”

  “But . . . you’re not going to . . . ”

  He hefted one into my arms. “If the Captain says so.”

  “But what puts him in the right?”

  “The guns, I suppose.”

  * * *

  We loaded the cannons on the landward side –– they were aimed right at the plaza where most of the crowds had gathered.

  Of course I wondered what the devil I was doing, aiding and abetting a pack of scoundrels, or at least one scoundrel and his accomplice, but then again, Andi was out there in the company of the Captain, and if any plan to save the Captain would save her . . .

  There had to something right about that.

  Regardless, pragmatically speaking, whatever action we took had to be preset without delay if it were to succeed when the time came, so having no time to fret about moralities, I helped fill the powder bags and rammed them down the bores.

  Ammunition? Blast Scalarag! He drew a blank and left that up to me.

  * * *

  Andi could smell barbecue even through her parrot head. The dining plaza was a town square with a clear view of the wharf and the ships tied there. Folks sat at tables while the serving wenches scurried about with trays of drinks and sandwiches.

  At a lone table on the edge of the plaza, two men sat having lunch and a beer. Thatch made a bee line for that table. “Keep up,” he told Andi, “and have a good look at these two.” She kept up. He circled around the table to face the two men, she stayed beside him . . .

  And walked right into her nightmare, right into that night: the wrinkly blond man with death in his eyes. The stone-faced Asian with the gleaming knife. Running for her life as Ben Cardiff ran for his, her body, his body, pummeled and thrown to a slow, drowning death.

  There they sat, the blond man, the big Asian man, looking so casual, nibbling on sandwiches, sipping beer. Thatch engaged the blond man in conversation about booking tour groups for the pirate show, how well the season was going, where all these extra hats and scarves came from. She couldn’t concentrate on the words, only on not shaking, not fainting, not screaming.

  The blond man introduced Mr. Ling, a big investment banker from Hong Kong. Ling looked just as Norwig described him: cold as ice and ruthless. He looked at Andi only once and, seeing only a silly parrot, looked back at the Captain. The Captain was suggesting a group picture, perhaps with an official Predator Captain’s hat. The killer smiled as if he knew something.

  The blond man smiled too. Lots of tour groups lined up, he said, very good gate this weekend. He had a shirt with ST. CLEMENS TOURS embossed over the pocket, and above the embossing he wore a name badge: Bennett Piel.

  Bennett Piel!

  Her legs lost their strength. She stumbled backward a few waddled steps, reached and found a palm tree to steady herself.

  Banana Peel!

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mutiny

  A sound, something like a cry, escaped Andi’s mouth before she could contain it. She disguised it with a parrot squawk. She flapped her arms a little. It drew a look and an impatient smile from Bennett Piel.

  The Captain brought up future plans and recovered Piel’s attention.

  Come on, act like a parrot. With all she had within her she stayed in character, awked a little, and sidled away to give them space, to come up with a plan . . .

  To get to a buffet table and a bowl of fruit.

  She squawked a greeting to two dining couples –– the women were the ugliest she’d seen in a while –– and helped herself to a banana.

  She waddled back, moving behind the two men and facing the Captain.

  Thatch talked with the men about the Predator. A good ship, she was. Ready for haul out next month. He had improvements in mind, budget allowing.

  She held up the banana hoping he would see it.

  He may have. Apparently he was getting another message from Sparks. He took the earring out of his pocket.

  She grappled and fumbled with the banana. It was hard to get the peeling started with feathery parrot wing hands.

  The Captain pulled his hair back to expose his ear and then began to open the loop on the earring.

  She got the peeling started and frantically pulled the segments down.

  He looked at her.

  With the banana peeled halfway down, she pointed at it while pointing at Bennett Piel with the feathery finger of her other hand. That’s the guy!

  The Captain stayed in character, smiling, listening to the two men, looking from one to the other as the color drained from his face. He put the earring back in his pocket, and managing a weakened flourish, said, “Gentlemen, ado, and fair winds!”

  He beckoned to Andi with a glance and started walking––back toward the ship. Andi was glad enough to follow.

  They didn’t get far.

  “Thatch!” Piel shouted from behind them. With that came the clicking of a gun.

  Click! Clack! Clicklick Clatter! Like dozens of traps springing, the tourists, male and female, sprang from their chairs and trained their guns on Thatch’s crew. Others on the rim of the plaza formed a closed circle, brandishing weapons. The ugly women turned out to be men, their hairy arms holding pistols.

  “You won’t be walking off that easy,” said Bennett Piel.

  Thatch and Andi turned slowly. Piel stood gloating. So did Mr. Ling.

  The Captain didn’t seem surprised. “So it’s as I hear: ‘We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.’“

  “Honor can’t stand up to a lucrative arrangement,” said Piel. “The smart ones know a better deal when it’s offered.”

  “Smart and a murderin’ scum! A big money man from Hong Kong, is he? ‘Twas you and Ling pitched Ben Cardiff to the brine!”

  “If it’s any consolation, we didn’t mean to kil
l him. But he did take us for a million!” He nodded toward Mr. Ling. “Nevertheless, my friend here has promised me a fat future to finish this business any way we can. Mr. Ling wants your ship, Thatch, and all that gadgetry you have onboard!”

  The Captain studied Mr. Ling a moment. “The Gate, I presume? I’ve heard tell of you around St. Clemens, and oh, you can persuade, I’ll lay to that.” The Captain met the eyes of his men, then looked at Piel and Ling. “But will you leave a bloodied island for the law to find?” The Captain slowly drew his pistol. “That we’ll try.” He advised the costumed servers and staff, “I’d find cover inside.”

  He didn’t have to tell them twice.

  Thatch’s crew drew their period weapons, clicking back the hammers all around, their muzzles mirroring the muzzles aimed at them.

  * * *

  From the deck of the Predator, Scalarag and I could see the frozen tableau of some fifty mock tourists brandishing weapons and Thatch’s crew brandishing weapons right back.

  “This is insane!” I said.

  “This is money,” said Scalarag. “Thatch guessed right. Someone made Piel a better offer.”

  The Gate, I thought. This was their sneaky style. “They . . . they can’t just kill each other!”

  “Neither has a winning hand, so who knows where it goes from here?”

  Oh, Andi! She had such a gift for being caught in the middle. “Cheerios,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Ammunition for the cannons. We have Cheerios.”

  * * *

  Mr. Ling broke into a smile. “So now we parlay, eh? And what have you to bargain with, Thatch?” He spoke loudly so all could hear, “Men of the Predator! Whatever Thatch is paying, I’ll make it double. All I want is that ship and what’s aboard. Hand it over and walk away alive –– and richer!”

  There was a telling pause. Both sides still aimed their weapons, but Thatch’s men were thinking about it.

  “Mutiny . . . ” a crewman muttered.

  “Mutiny?” bellowed the Captain, striding before them. “And go home lesser men? Can honor be bought that easily?”

  * * *

  Rock leaped to the first large limb of a tree, waved his sword and hollered out, “Why stand you all tangled in the stays? Was it honor filled your purses? The gold’s the thing, mateys, and gold buys the wiser! Take it now, live to tell it, and live happy! Mutiny!”

  There was a cheer, but it was half-hearted.

  * * *

  A knife came from somewhere and pinned Rock’s sleeve to the tree! That drew everyone’s attention to none other than Norwig the Bean, standing near the Captain. He jerked his head at Piel and Ling. “And you’ll believe the word of scum like these, when the first word is pistols up your nose? What do you know, mates, if it ain’t the Captain and his word? I say we stick by the old man and let tomorrow come as always! Mutiny against the mutiny!”

  Another cheer, but that was half-hearted too.

  * * *

  Oof! Spikenose, like a wiry little spider on a web, swung in on a rope and kicked Norwig aside, taking his place in the center. He had a pistol in one hand and a saber in the other and twirled them both to get attention, which he got. “Come on, guys, get a clue! Thatch has been using all of us to make himself rich and The Gate only wants to kill us and take what’s ours! Can’t you see this whole thing is falling apart? This whole pirate thing, it’s over, and I’m sick of it anyway! Listen! I’m the purser with signatory rights on the bank account. Let’s split the company assets and get out. Let Thatch and The Gate fight over the rest! Mutiny against the mutiny against the mutiny!”

  That brought an intelligent murmur.

  * * *

  Harry the Scar stepped into the center and gave a shrill whistle. The murmuring stopped. “Just walk away with the money, is that it? That simple? Any of you want to lay me odds the feds aren’t onto us by now? They’ve gotta be tracking these Gate guys and they’ve got to know where most of our money’s come from. You don’t think they’re all over us too? Listen, we didn’t invent the technology, right? We were just working the ship, doing the shows, right? But we know about the Captain and now we know about The Gate, so let’s go to the feds, turn ‘em in, and cut a deal.” He had to count on his fingers as he said, “Mutiny against the mutiny against the mutiny against the mutiny!”

  * * *

  What was this, parlay ad absurdum? Andi looked around, wondering who was going to speak next when –

  AWK! A huge hand from behind grabbed her by the scruff of her costume.

  It was Sparks’ voice! “All this blabbering and you don’t know what’s right under your nose!”

  He held her, half hanging, by her costume, her parrot feet barely touching the ground. OUCH! He yanked the goofy parrot head off her and tossed it aside. Her unconstrained hair exploded from her head like a red firework.

  Most everyone gave a little gasp or mutter at the sight of her, but Piel and Ling stood silent as lights came on behind their eyes. Piel even mouthed the words, “The redheaded girl!”

  “Ah,” said Sparks, “so you know what I’m holding!” He put a knife to her neck! “Here’s the real prize: Everything Ben knew and you paid for, it’s in her head –– and that includes where your million dollars went. So here’s my offer: Make me captain. Give me the crew and the Predator, and we’ll come over to your side and hand you the girl.” He dragged her around a little, making sure all the crew could see the prize and his knife to her throat. “Can’t make up your minds? Take a good look at her! Follow me, I follow them, they get the girl, we keep the Predator and we all get richer.”

  Spikenose looked into space, counting, “A mutiny against the mutiny against the mutiny . . . ”

  “Shut up!”

  * * *

  There must have been something about a knife to her throat that Andi found disagreeable. With abandon and bravado she must have learned from Ben, she burst out, “By the powers, ya swab, you’re as sharp as paint, you are! Be the captain? Is that why it was you scrambled the system and Jean-Pierre’s brain? You were hoping the Cap would put on that earring as always, but Jean-Pierre wore it that day, and ‘twas his bad fortune!”

  He tightened his grip. “Hold your tongue or I’ll cut it out.”

  “And toss it to Piel and Ling? Oh, they’ll pay you well for that!”

  Click! Oh, how she hated that sound!

  Sparks spun around, dragging her around with him.

  The Captain was pointing his pistol at Sparks, steady, steely-eyed. In his free hand he held the earring. “So that’s why you hoped I’d put on the earring today. You were planning for me what fell to Jean-Pierre.” He shouted to the men of the Predator, “This man’s killed one of your own hoping to finish me! Would you have him wearing the Captain’s hat?”

  Sparks sneered. “This from the man who scoffs at Truth?”

  “The Cap’s speaking straight and I be the one that knows,” cried Andi. ‘Twas Ben left the system running when he jumped ship so he could send his mind to Piel and Ling. The system was ticking like a fine clock when I bought the earring and it sent Ben’s mind to me along with his killing.” She nodded toward Piel and Ling. “And the faces of his killers!”

  Piel and Ling were watching, listening. Ling said matter-of-factly, “We will want the girl.”

  “Aye, you hear that, Sparks? So put a thought to it! You cut my neck, you kill the head that’s on it, and what do you know but half the system? It’s Ben’s in my head, and Ben knows the whole of it.”

  “Meaning . . . ” said the Captain, “take away the girl and the whole matter ends.” The Captain shifted his aim so Andi could see right down the bore. “You know half the system, Sparks, but she knows all of it. You know how to scramble it, but she knows how to fix it. Without her, the system’s no good . . . and neither is your deal, and what does The Gate go away with?”

  Sparks tightened his grip on her. “Give it up, Thatch. You can’t do it.”

  “Ask Jean-
Pierre.” The Captain’s voice was low and even. “You were there. You know I can. You know I will.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Battle

  Lighter in hand, I reached to ignite the vent hole of the cannon.

  Scalarag blocked me. “This isn’t it.”

  I nearly struck him. “Isn’t what?”

  “The moment.”

  “What moment?”

  “You’ll know. Keep an eye on ‘em. Gotta go below, fire up the engines.”

  I’ll know?

  * * *

  The Captain called out to his men as he aimed his pistol at Andi’s head. “You’ve all sailed with me, so what say you? What rule’s to stop me? From what Truth comes the shame?”

  He waited, looked them in the eyes. Not a single man gave an answer. Andi began to tremble.

  The Captain called again, “Can you not tell me? Where’s the wrong in taking the girl’s life?”

  One wimpy little swab offered, “We don’t get the money . . . ”

  A whiny little murmur of agreement passed through the crew.

  The Captain watched them a moment, gave them time, but all he got was silence.

  At last, with resignation, he raised the muzzle of his pistol toward the sky and uncocked the hammer. “So . . . if there be a Truth, it’s of a truth that you have none, and I took it from you. Very well, then. Let the Truth fall to me, and I’ll be the man.” He tucked the pistol into his belt, then removed his hat and held it high. “Sparks is your captain!”

  No one cheered.

  “Hip! Hip!”

  Two said Hurray.

  “Hip! Hip!”

  Same two.

  Sparks’ hands were occupied holding and threatening Andi. Thatch did the honors, placing the hat on Sparks’ head. He then took hold of Andi and pulled her gently away–