“No, I am one of them,” Brandt said. “Or I was.”
“Fresh!” the first man said. “You’re exactly the break I’ve been waiting for. What do you say we help each other get out of here?”
Was that even possible? If there was any way they could escape . . . Reid told himself not to hope, but it was too late.
Seventy-Five
Newport Harbor, aboard the Majestic
“So much for your guarantee we’d be in the Tank by now,” Nikolai told Markoff.
The emissary had come back with little information. Nothing about Will or his crew. The whole city was preoccupied with sightings of a car, and apparently that interested the chancellor more than putting the pirate king’s head on a pike. There was nothing to be done until the morning when they would make the exchange.
“We should enjoy the reprieve,” Markoff said. “Let’s splice the mainbrace.”
“Pardon?” Nikolai said.
Markoff snorted. “Break out the cider, of course.”
Dulling his senses with alcohol was the last thing Nikolai wanted, but it gave him an idea.
“Psst, come here,” he called to Markoff’s crewman who was impersonating the leader of the southern pirates, another defector with cutting scars.
Their “captor” ambled over. “Yeah? I mean, what d’you want, you grimy barnacle?”
Nikolai spoke in a low voice. “Get the barrels of cider out of the hold.”
“That’s the spirit,” Markoff said.
“Not for us,” Nikolai said. “We can use this downtime to make sure the Belle is ready to sail. The cider’s our ticket aboard.”
The first barrel had gotten them on board the Belle. Soon after that, a deck of cards had come out. During the second barrel, one of Markoff’s men brought out a fiddle. Several others—guards and pirates alike—joined with harmonicas and improvised drumming.
Into the third barrel of cider, the party was going strong. Nikolai slipped out of his bonds and walked the decks unnoticed. The Belle was in decent shape. The deck was dirty, but not damaged. The sheets were tidy and the sails were stowed, though a bit unkempt. The jib showed Will’s characteristic sharp folds—it probably hadn’t been taken out since he’d been aboard. After some minor tuning, she should make it to Catalina at top speed. Then Friday could fix anything that needed fixing before the return voyage to San Francisco.
Friday hadn’t liked staying behind on the island but, unlike Cook, Friday had accepted it. Finola had refused to disembark, gripping the rail as if there were stormy seas. She’d argued until the sweat beaded on her wide brow, and nothing Nikolai said could assuage her. Even Kennedy gave up trying to talk sense into her. It was Olexi who was able to close the matter. He was like the father in an unlikely family—Finola, the man-child Friday, and Olexi. After one soft-spoken word from him, Finola stood down, though clearly not happy about it. Whatever Olexi had said worked like magic.
“Captain?”
“Speak of the devil,” Nikolai said to Olexi.
“We need three sober men and three hours to make the Belle right. Who do we recruit?”
They surveyed the crew dancing and playing cards in the torchlight.
“I’d say that the only one of ours who’s shit-faced drunk is Markoff,” Olexi said.
“He’s not as drunk as he’s playing,” Nikolai said, “but he’s doing the most good where he is, keeping the guards entertained. Grab any three others and let’s get to work.”
Seventy-Six
The Tank
Brandt was engrossed in quiet conversation with the men in the adjacent cell, but Reid stayed with Tinker. He didn’t know how long his grandfather had, and he didn’t want him to spend his last moments alone.
Tinker’s brow furrowed and he moaned, but he didn’t rouse. Reid didn’t expect him to, and it was better that way. The pain would be worse, and there was nothing he could do to help.
“I’m sorry I got you into this, Pops,” he said. “I wish I could take you home. I wish . . .” He bit his lip to stop it from trembling.
Tinker’s breathing was labored. They were running out of time.
“Pops, I’ve been thinking about what you said in the car. About Kayla and me. And I wish I’d told you then that you were right. I do love her. I’ve always loved her. But telling her . . . what good would that do? She’ll never love me the way she loved Brian, no matter how I feel, no matter what I say.” Reid swallowed hard. “But I guess none of that matters now, does it?”
Tears ran down the sides of Reid’s nose. Tinker was fading, and soon Reid would be alone, half a world away from the people he loved with no hope of getting home. How long would Kayla and his grandma watch for their return? How long before they gave up hope?
The door to the cellblock creaked open, and a woman entered the hallway that ran between the two rows of cells. Reid had never seen anyone so glamorous—her red dress shimmered with tiny diamonds, she had jewels on every finger, and her purse and shoes looked like they’d been carved out of gold. She couldn’t have looked more out of place.
“Brandt?” the woman called in a melodious tone as she approached their cell. “Brandt, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Ellianna?” Brandt met her at the bars.
“My dear, how are you?” Ellianna cooed.
“What are you doing here?” Brandt’s voice had an edge that Reid hadn’t heard before.
“I came to see what I can do to help. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a fix.”
“I’ve been wondering how that happened. Can I assume Mia gave me up?”
“Mia?” The woman’s laugh was cold. “She hasn’t said a word since you knocked her unconscious.”
“What?” Reid came to his feet. He couldn’t have heard that right.
“He didn’t tell you?” Ellianna batted her oversized lashes at him.
“What’s she talking about, Brandt?” Reid said, coming forward.
“Don’t,” one of the men called from the adjacent cell. “She’s lying. Trying to turn you against each other.”
Reid stopped. They had to be right. He didn’t completely trust Brandt, but there’s no way he would have hurt Mia.
Brandt glanced at Reid then turned back to the woman. “What do you want, Ellianna?”
“I want to help you, Brandt.”
“Bullshit. You never even liked me. Whatever you want, you want for your own purposes.”
“Listen to me, you idiot,” she said through her teeth. “Chancellor Worth is going to publicly execute you tomorrow morning. I’m trying to save your life.”
A public execution? For helping a stranger? Reid hoped she was still lying.
“How can you save my life?” Brandt’s voice practically dripped with disdain for the woman.
“Tell me where the stranger’s car is,” she said. “And I’ll convince the chancellor you deserve another chance. We have to act fast—he got a tip from some outcasts, and he’s out right now looking for the car himself. If he finds it before I tell him, we’ve got nothing.”
The outcasts. They’d parked not far from them.
“Go away, Ellianna.”
“Be smart. Think about your pretty Justine. If you ever want to see her again, if you want any hope of seeing your baby, you’ll tell me.”
Brandt walked to the back of the cell.
“Brandt,” Reid said close to his ear. “Are you sure about this? Maybe she can help.”
“Guard!” Brandt yelled. The cellblock door opened. “Ms. Ford is done here.”
“Last chance, Brandt.” Ellianna paused, but Brandt didn’t say anything. “You’re making a mistake.”
The guard escorted her out and the door slammed shut.
“What if she’s telling the truth?” Reid asked.
“Everything that comes out of that woman’s mouth is some form of self-serving lie,” Brandt said. “She wouldn’t save my life even if she could. If I told her anything, she’d use it to her own advantage, then la
ugh through her smile as I swing from the noose.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” someone called from the other cell.
Reid looked over. It was the same man that kept butting in. He was shorter and younger than the others in the cell, but he carried himself with an air of authority. “What’s his story? Can he really help us escape?” Reid asked Brandt under his breath, still clinging to that sliver of hope.
“I don’t know. Maybe. His name’s Will. He’s from up north, and he’s pretty motivated to get out of here. You remember that ship the pirates came to claim as bounty? Apparently it’s his.”
Seventy-Seven
Newport Harbor, aboard the Belle Jewel
“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me,” Markoff sang, sloshing cider.
Nikolai’s sides ached from laughing. “So you’re actually descended from carnival workers who worked on a pirate ride?”
“Not just a ride,” Markoff said. “A production. It was the crown jewel of the park’s empire. Our ancestors were proud to be pirates, and when the sea called to us, we continued in the tradition. Yo ho!”
“Yo ho!” the pirates echoed, raising their glasses.
“I can’t believe you never told me this before,” Nikolai said. “Now so much makes sense, you salty blaggard.”
“Mutinous landlubber.”
“Bow-legged scallywag.”
“Well, that one might be true.” Markoff nodded, raising his glass.
Nikolai lifted his in response. “A toast to Captain Scallywag!”
“Yo ho!” the crew answered again.
The guards laughed and raised their glasses, as well. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as the pirates, now that there was plenty of cider lubricating the boundaries between them.
“Another round!” someone shouted.
Nikolai had brought an ungodly amount of cider, but at this rate there wouldn’t be any left to celebrate a successful mission. Assuming they were successful.
The music resumed, giving Nikolai the opportunity to slip away again.
Olexi joined him at the rail. “This is going better than I anticipated, Captain.”
“How about you call me Nikolai. Or Niko, even.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Sober as a glass.” He sighed and gripped the smooth mahogany of the Belle’s rail, staring west into the black expanse of sea and sky. “I’m not your captain, Olexi. I never will be again. That’s the truth of it.”
“The future is yet unknown. That’s the beauty of it.”
“I suppose.”
As they stared west, Nikolai’s thoughts drifted to Hawaii as they did more and more often. Indulging himself in a sigh, he turned to Olexi. “What do you say we go now?”
“Chevo?”
“The Belle is nearly ready. The locals are drunk, while most of our men are sober. The authorities are preoccupied. Let’s mount the rescue tonight.”
Olexi didn’t answer. As the silence stretched, Nikolai began to reconsider.
Finally Olexi responded. “Captain, or uh, Nikolai,” he began.
“Oh hell,” Nikolai said. “You’re right. We should stick with the original plan.”
“It’s a good plan. Or at least the best one we have.”
“Thank you, Olexi. You’re a good man. A good friend.”
“As are you, Nikolai.”
“Oh shut up and make yourself useful, sailor.” Nikolai laughed as Olexi left.
He stood at the rail a moment longer, trying to clear his head of the sentimental melancholy that gripped him. Leaning over the rail, he spat into the sea, then took a deep breath. Time to get back to work.
Seventy-Eight
The Tank
Reid cradled Tinker’s head in his lap, wishing they were back home.
“We have to do something now,” Will said, pacing in the next cell. “Tomorrow, my ship will be gone, and you’ll be dead.”
“I realize that,” Brandt said. “But I’m telling you, there’s no way out of these cells without a key. On the other side of the bars I’ve got the advantage—I know the procedures, where weapons are kept, which passages lead out. But on this side, I’m as helpless as anyone.”
“Hey kid,” Will called.
Reid looked up, not appreciating being called a kid. He’d bet he was older than Will.
“Come join us,” Will said. “We could use another brain on this.”
Reid looked at Brandt.
“He’s right,” Brandt said. “If we’re going to do something, it has to be tonight.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said, in case some part of his grandfather was aware of his presence. He joined the men at the bars.
“Good,” a brown-skinned man with a round face said. “We could use something to break the monotony of these two jefes banging heads.”
“This joker is Gordo.” Will indicated the man who’d just spoken. “This is Sam and Alfonse. Vlad’s asleep.” He gestured over his shoulder to a man curled up in the corner. “What we need is a fresh perspective. Any ideas how we can get those keys?” Will’s eyes were intense but not unkind, and his sun-worn face looked like it was accustomed to smiling.
“You’re working the wrong angle,” Brandt said. “The guards are well-trained in every possible contingency. They aren’t going to make some rookie mistake and hand over the keys.”
“Wait, we don’t actually need keys,” Reid said. “We need the guards to unlock the cells.”
“Why didn’t I think of that? Let’s ask them,” Brandt said.
“I’m serious,” Reid said. “You said they’re well-trained, right? So we figure out a circumstance where their training dictates they open the cells.”
“Right.” Will nodded. “Like a fire or something. Anyone have matches?”
“Hold up,” Brandt said. “The procedure for fire is the guards evacuate themselves and don’t come back until the fire’s out and we’re all dead.”
“Nice people,” Gordo said.
“They won’t open the cells because we’re in danger,” Brandt continued. “The procedures are designed to protect them.”
“So let’s figure it out,” Reid said. “Why would the guards want to open the cells?”
The outer door to the cellblock rattled then opened, and a guard strode in. “Brandt, at attention. Chancellor Worth wants a word.”
“Don’t piss him off,” Will said in a low voice. “We need you alive.”
Brandt met Reid’s gaze, and Reid didn’t like what he saw. Through all of this, Brandt had never truly looked frightened until now. That chilled Reid to the bone, but he smiled and nodded at Brandt, hoping to give him courage.
“Now,” the guard barked.
Brandt went to the front of the cell and stood at attention. Two armed guards entered the cellblock, followed by a clean-shaven silver-haired man in a suit.
The man stopped opposite Brandt, and stood at the bars shaking his head. “I had such trust and affection for you, Brandt. Only to learn you didn’t save my son but endangered him in your little charade. He could have been killed. Do you know what a son means to a father? If he’d been harmed, do you have any idea what that would have done to me? Do you? Answer me!”
“No, Chancellor,” Brandt said. “I don’t.”
“I didn’t think so,” the chancellor said. “But you should, and I was able to fix that. I found that lovely, pregnant woman of yours. Justine. I slit her throat and I watched her bleed out, knowing that inside her your son was suffocating to death.”
“You bastard!” Brandt charged the bars and thrust his arms through, grabbing for him.
A guard cocked his weapon. “Stand down, Brandt. Don’t think I won’t use this.”
Reid grabbed Brandt and muscled him away from the bars.
“Noooo!” Brandt cried. “Oh God, no. Justine, Justine.”
“Stop, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Reid whispered, steering Brandt to the back of the cell.
“Who are you?” the chancellor boomed. “Come here.”
Reid glanced over. The chancellor was looking at him. “Shit,” he said under his breath. Cold dread filled his stomach as he went to the front of the cell.
“I’m Chancellor Pascal Worth,” the man said in the same placid tone he’d used to deliver Justine’s death notice. “And you are?”
“Reid Landers.”
“Are you connected to that man there?” He indicated Tinker. “If you lie to me it will be much worse for you.”
Reid swallowed. “He’s my grandfather.”
“I see. Are you the stranger who was at World Waste with Mia?”
“Where’s Mia?”
“Ah, yes, I thought so. But let me share a bit of advice with you, stranger. It will go much better for you if you answer my questions.”
The man was cold, deadly, worse than Vega could ever be. Reid clenched his fists and swallowed, trying to push down his terror.
“Yes, that was me at World Waste with Mia.” Reid took a breath. “Please, sir, where is Mia? I need to know if she’s okay.”
Pascal smiled the same sick smile as before. “There, I knew you were a man who could be reasoned with. And to show you I’m just as reasonable . . .” He looked over his shoulder toward the guards at the cellblock door. “Is Mia still alive?”
One of the guards stepped forward. “I don’t know, sir. Shall I find out?”
“Bring her here. Either way.” Pascal turned back to Reid. “I can be your friend or your enemy. Choose wisely.”
Reid forced himself to look the man in the eye. “What do you want?”
“I have your vehicle, but I don’t know how to turn it on. I’ll figure it out eventually, but as a friend, you could save me the time and trouble.”
“You’re lying.” Reid hoped he was, but the man’s confidence was unnerving.
The guard re-entered with Mia in his arms.
Reid pressed his cheeks to the bars. “Mia!” Her eyes were closed, and she looked unharmed, but he couldn’t be sure. “Is she alive?” he asked Pascal.
Seeds Page 27
