Sky Pirates

by Liesel Schwarz

  Elle blinked. She had been locked up on her own for so long now that she was starting to lose the ability to speak. The manner in which her mind was drifting was rather worrying.

  “My berth is quite adequate, sir,” Elle said. “I have not been harmed … so far,” she added quickly.

  Dashwood’s handsome features darkened. “We are not monsters here, Mrs. Marsh. I far prefer to think of us as businessmen.”

  “Business must be booming,” Elle said, looking around the opulent cabin.

  “It is indeed. I have added a few personal touches since I took this old tub off its previous captain. I kinda like it,” he said. “What do you think?”

  “Look, Captain, I’m sorry if I’m being impolite but let’s dispense with the small talk, shall we? I would like to know what exactly what is the point of this meeting?”

  Dashwood stared at her with a glimmer of amusement in his clear blue eyes. “Well, for starters, I thought you might enjoy a bit of company. You must be getting rather lonely sitting all by yourself in your cabin for all this time. I thought that perhaps I might tempt you into a game of cards after dinner.” His voice held a slight edge to it.

  “Thank you, Captain, but I would decline your invitation,” she said.

  Dashwood’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Marsh? Afraid I might beat you this time? That’s not very sporting of you, now is it?”

  Elle shook her head. “Not at all. It’s just that you’ve already taken everything I had left in this world. And I have a strict policy of not gambling beyond my means.” She smiled sweetly.

  Dashwood rose and stepped out from behind his desk. “And you didn’t take everything I had from me? Twice?”

  Elle frowned. “Twice?”

  “Oh yes, our acquaintance goes back further than Amsterdam. The Iron Phoenix was not the first ship of mine you have managed to destroy.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” she said, genuinely puzzled.

  Dashwood let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh, I was hired to salvage a strange new flying device in Italy a few years ago. It was supposed to be a simple sky-grab. I was to be paid a lot of money for the job too. It would have set me up for life. But then I ran into you and the warlock. And between the two of you, you managed to blow up my ship before I had the chance to net your flying contraption. I escaped with nothing but the clothes on my back.” His face grew stern at the memory.

  Elle blanched. “You? You were the one who attacked the gyrocopter? Do you realize that you could have killed us all with your stupidity? What were you thinking, filling the tanks of a battleship with hydrogen?”

  Dashwood looked away. “Mistakes were made. As I said, it was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab. We never intended to fire the cannon.”

  “I don’t believe this.” She shook her head in amazement.

  Dashwood folded his arms. “Oh yes. Once we were on the ground, I swore then that vengeance would one day be mine. I have spent more than two years tracking you. I even went legitimate for a while. Then Richardson joined my crew. He was a trove of information, which was most helpful.”

  “And you have been following me all this time so you might extract some petty revenge for something that was nothing more than your own foolishness? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I did what I had to do. You have no right to judge me,” he said.

  “Judge you?” Elle shook her head again.

  “It was hard going for a while. I had to scrounge to keep my crew together. There were things I did back then that even I am not proud of. But then you strolled into the mess room in Amsterdam like you were about to attend a country picnic. I could not believe my luck. Your ship would finally be mine, but things didn’t work out the way I had planned, now did they?”

  She had beaten Dashwood in a game of poker that day. The stakes had been high as they bet their respective airships in the last hand. In the end, Elle had shown Dashwood up to be the cheater that he was by using her own powers to stop him from seeing her cards. She walked away with Dashwood’s ship, the Iron Phoenix.

  “But that would mean we are even,” Elle said. “You’ve had your way with the Water Lily and you’ve taken the museum’s artifacts, So why keep me locked up? You have what you wanted, so why not just let me go?”

  “Well, the plan was to seize your ship and make you buy her back for a rather tidy ransom. You know, teach you a lesson, and make a bit of cash—no harm done. But then you had to be all noble and take a stand. Instead of surrendering like any other sensible person, you had to fight back and cause bloodshed. And now we’re stuck with one another and I can’t ransom you or let you go because I have no guarantee that you won’t go and tell the authorities where I am the moment we touch the ground.” Dashwood scratched the thin layer of stubble that covered his finely sculpted jaw. “And I would rather prefer not to be hanged or banned from certain patches of airspace. It’s bad for business.” He sighed and looked at her. “Things never seem to work out the way I plan them when you are involved, so I am not taking any chances this time.”

  “And what is your plan now?” she said, feeling a little faint.

  There was a soft knock at the door and one of the crew entered. He had pulled on a white serving jacket over his grubby overalls and was pushing a serving trolley with silver cloches on it.

  “Thank you. Just leave it there,” Dashwood said. He strode across the cabin and pulled out two crystal glasses from the drinks cubby. The drinks cabinet was an elaborate piece of carpentry shaped like a globe set into the wood paneling. It operated with an intricate series of gears that whirled the shelves round so one could easily find the bottle one was looking for. From where she was sitting it looked like it came complete with a built-in ice production compartment. Fresh ice on a ship. What luxury.

  Dashwood dropped a handful of ice cubes into two glasses and poured a generous measure of whiskey into each. He set one of the drinks down in front of Elle.

  “Drink, Mrs. Marsh?” he said as he took a seat in the chair opposite her. “This is a really nice single malt. I have grown quite fond of it in recent months.”

  Elle wrapped her hands round the glass, testing the weight in her hands. The glass was heavy-bottomed, made of good, solid crystal. It would make a nice dent in the side of his head, she thought. “I hate whiskey,” she said, setting the glass down in front of her.

  “Well, cheers to that,” Dashwood said and took a swig from his own glass.

  “So, you were saying?” Elle prompted, in an attempt to bring the conversation back to the point.

  “Ah yes, back to business,” he said after crunching an ice cube between his teeth.

  Elle shuddered. Did he not even know how to drink from a glass? He had really nice teeth though. They were all white and even … not something one saw often in a pirate.

  “I thought you and I would discuss your new position on my crew over dinner,” he said, dragging her attention back to the present. Elle blinked and frowned. Clearly being locked up was driving her a little dotty.

  “You are a woman of many talents, Mrs. Marsh,” he said. “And I could certainly use some of them. And even though you seem to do everything in your power to belie the fact, you are still the Viscountess Greychester. And the heiress to a considerable fortune, from both your husband and your uncle, I believe.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but none of that money is mine. There are … disputes over the estate. And no one knows what to do about death duties because my husband is not dead,” she said.

  “Semantics,” Dashwood replied, taking another sip of his whiskey. “Whether it be your money or not, I am very sure arrangements could be made to invest in certain business ventures, should I choose to demand it.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Elle said.

  Dashwood smiled at her. “Wouldn’t I?”

  She did not respond. Instead, she lifted the glass and took a swig of whiskey. The burn of alcohol mixed with peat
filled her mouth and throat, warming her all the way to her stomach. Dashwood was right, she thought with irritation. It was a very nice single malt.

  “That is extortion,” she said in a low voice. “And you had better know that my husband’s money is tied up in probate. His solicitors would never agree to anything like that. Even if I told them to do it, the ultimate decision still lies with them. So the money and the title—it’s just an illusion. In real terms, all I had was my ship and you have already taken that.”

  “Oh, there is no need to be look so distraught, Mrs. Marsh. Your fortunes are safe for the moment.” He set down his empty glass. The ice inside tinkled as if it agreed. “You see, I believe in keeping a close eye on my enemies and you have proven beyond a doubt that you are far too dangerous to set free, if you don’t mind me saying so. So my preference at the moment is to keep you right here, where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “And what if I refuse?” she said.

  Dashwood shook his head. “If you refuse, then I will lock you back in your cabin until you agree. And you will agree with me. Everybody does, eventually.”

  “So you really are going to press-gang me into being a pirate?”

  Dashwood sighed. “Those are old-fashioned and ugly monikers. We prefer to call it ‘private contracting’ these days. And you are not being press-ganged. Let’s call it a negotiation.”

  “And if I agree?”

  He gave her a most charming smile and gestured to the table. “Well, then we shall discuss those treasure maps you have been hiding in your trunk over the most excellent dinner Cook has prepared for us.”

  Elle sat back against the chaise and let out a long breath. She was utterly trapped.

  “I will regard the maps as a joining fee to our organization. I will offer to make you a special member of this crew, which means you get a cut of the loot as opposed to just wages. We can negotiate the size of your cut as soon as you are ready.”

  “But they are not treasure maps. They are the journals of a woman whom I have grown to admire and regard with deep affection. When I get home I intend to have them published so the whole world can know what an exceptional scientist and person Gertrude Bell was.”

  “You will do no such thing,” he said.

  Elle set her glass down and stood up from the chaise longue. “It is not your place to order me around. You are not my captain. Now if you will excuse me, I think I will go back to my cabin. Please be advised that I am going on a hunger strike. Once I am dead, you will have no cards to play. As I see it, you need me alive, Captain. It is all I have left to bargain with.”

  Dashwood rose and moved up to her. “You will do no such thing!” Suddenly he was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I don’t know how many times I need to apologize for the death of your archaeologist friend, but here it is again. I am sorry. Her death was an accident. And we haven’t even begun to discuss the good men I lost because of your actions. Tell me, do you mourn their passing?”

  Elle took a step back and felt the edge of the chaise longue against the back of her knees. The lowlying sensation of feeling trapped suddenly rose to the point where it was threatening to overwhelm her and she had to fight to suppress the sudden surge of panic. “Please,” she whispered. She pressed her palms against his chest in order to push him away. “Please, just let me go.”

  Her gentle touch seemed to have the desired effect. Dashwood remembered himself and took a step back. He coughed uncomfortably. “As I see it, your Dr. Bell spent years exploring the secrets of ancient civilizations. These ancients usually have treasure—ergo, the journals contain treasure maps,” he said.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door.

  “Enter!” Dashwood said, sounding strangely irritated at the interruption.

  Elle turned to see who it was and gasped with shock. It was Heller, and under his arm he held the bundle of journals she had stowed in Gertrude’s chest not too long before.

  “Ah, Mr. Heller. I see you have found what we have been looking for. Please put those down on my desk.”

  Elle turned to Dashwood with blazing eyes. “How dare you search my things!” she said. “I am a lady. Have you no decency?”

  “Ah, so you are a lady when it suits you.” Dashwood’s eyes lit up with amusement. “You should remember that as long as you refuse to cooperate, you are my prisoner. And as my prisoner, I may do with you as I please. The fact that I’m being civilized about the whole matter is entirely my choice, but things could be a lot worse for you if you continue to antagonize me.”

  Elle’s panic turned to anger. “I demand that you let me off this ship right this instant. You have no right to keep me against my will! People will come looking for me. Important people. I will be missed, and when I am found, you will hang for this, Captain. You mark my words.”

  Dashwood tutted and shook his head. “I am sure they will search for you, but even if they find the jettisoned wreck of the Water Lily, which is highly unlikely, they will assume the worst. You will simply become the tragic story of a lady pilot who went missing under mysterious circumstances and was never found.”

  “So what now? Must I become a thief? A murderer like you?” she said.

  “I told you, we are businessmen. Privateers if you will. It is an honorable profession which goes back to the time of the Elizabethans, you know.”

  “Call it what you will,” she said. “Taking stuff that does not belong to you is still wrong.”

  Dashwood gave her a cynical smile. “Don’t be such a hypocrite, Mrs. Marsh. What would you call taking those artifacts you and your precious Dr. Bell were carrying away from the Sudanese? Is your respectable British Museum not doing exactly the same thing in the name of research?”

  “But at least we don’t murder and pillage,” Elle said.

  “Don’t you?” Dashwood arched a sarcastic eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never killed anyone. That’s not what they say in the papers when they write of your heroics. I recall you being rather trigger-happy when we boarded the Water Lily. Five of my men died because of you. Five.” He held up his hand, palm out, his fingers all extended.

  Elle looked away in shame. Dashwood was right. She had led the Battle of Battersea against the clockwork army that La Dame Blanche had created. And in her search for clues she had killed a man. She had shot him dead in a park at point-blank range. There had been others since, she could not deny the fact.

  “And besides, what else is there for you now?” Dashwood continued. “You have no husband. Your ship is gone. From the gossip in the airfield mess halls, I hear that you’ve gone all reclusive and dotty. No friends, no social gatherings. Just the poor, brave, grief-stricken Viscountess Greychester soldiering on, taking strange charter booking after strange charter booking. And all this to forget the tragic loss of your husband, yet you remain frozen in time, same as the day he left you,” Dashwood said. “If this were a Dickens novel, you would be Miss Haversham in an airship.”

  The truth of his words hit Elle like a barrage of heavy artillery. She turned away to hide her face, but he gripped her shoulder and swiveled her round so she faced him. “Your choices are quite simple. You will either join my crew and take your rightful place among us with courage and loyalty, or you will remain my prisoner until I decide what to do with you. I might not be able to ransom you off to family, but there may still be some profit in you yet. I just need to find the right buyer.”

  Elle felt herself grow cold. The last thing she wanted was for Dashwood to start turning his mind to selling her to someone. As the Oracle, there were more than a few nefarious parties who would pay handsomely to have her delivered to them. That would be a very bad fate to suffer indeed. She was just lucky that Dashwood did not seem to know that she was the Oracle. And she intended to keep it that way.

  “I need a little time to think,” she said softly.

  He let go of her shoulder and smiled. “Certainly. I take it that I will be dining alone, then?”

>   She looked up at him. “I’m sorry, I—I just need some time to order my thoughts.”

  Dashwood made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Think it over as much as you want. Just remember that you have nowhere to run.” Then his eyes hardened. “You have until tomorrow.”

  Back in her cabin, Elle lay in her bunk and stared into the darkness for a long time. She heard the signal whistle for the shift change. Rubber boots squeaked and thumped on the metal stairs as crewmen manned their stations and went about the daily business of eating and sleeping. Life aboard a pirate ship was, for the most part, surprisingly mundane.

  Around her, the ship creaked, pitched and rolled as it plowed through the air currents.

  She lay awake until late night turned into early morning and a gentle silence fell over the ship. This was her favorite time of day—those magical few hours before the light broke, when it felt like the whole world was asleep except for her.

  The greatest irony of her current situation was that being a crew member aboard a big airship like this one, was the one thing she’d dreamed of doing for as long as she could remember. Granted, she had hoped that it would be one of the large commercial airships that plowed through the skies and not a pirate rig, but the principle was the same. To be part of the breed of men and women who sailed the skies was all she had ever wanted. Until Hugh Marsh came along. He had stumbled into her world and everything had changed. And she had been happy with that change. But as soon as everything had settled in, the whole thing had shattered into a million tiny, irreparable fragments.

  She gave a small, cynical laugh. Perhaps life was granting her this, her most ardent wish, as a vicious joke.

  Dashwood’s words had struck a nerve. That nerve had been connected to sensitive thoughts she had buried deep within herself. She had been so preoccupied with her grief, that she had managed to entirely avoid thinking about who and what she really was.

  Dashwood was of course entirely right. She was a killer. She had killed more people than Dashwood could ever know.