by Nick Travers
Chapter 5
In late spring, my Father, the Mayor of New Frisco, called me into his office. A strict and curt man, I suspect I will always fail to meet his high expectations of me, but really I no longer care.
“Constable McGraw, I have a special mission for you this summer, make sure you don’t let me down.” He is incapable of awarding an honor or offering a compliment without digging in the knife. “You are to keep a special eye on that young troublemaker Nina Swift. Far too much interest is being shown in her activities by nefarious interests.”
I wonder which of her activities had drawn the ire of his associates, to my Father all interests but his own are nefarious. He did not deign to enlighten me. After all, I am no one special, just his son.
“Lieutenant Borker has volunteered for the assignment,” my father continues. Lieutenant Borker is an obnoxious git, who I hate. “I cannot refuse him, but I do not trust him either, so I am putting you in charge of the operation. She is a citizen of New Frisco with an honorable family history, do whatever it takes to protect her honor.”
I doubt he would approve of the way I have protected her honor so far.
Now, after the affair at the docks I am back again. “You let her go!” Father bellows across the chamber. I have never seen him so angry.
We are standing in the Mayor’s library, an audience chamber whose walls are lined, from floor to ceiling, with shelves of ancient leather bound books.
Father paces back and forth in front of a large picture window which looks out over the administrative district of New Frisco with its garden squares and impressive stone clad buildings. I am separated from him by a large mahogany desk. He has not invited Lieutenant Borker or I to sit.
I clear my throat to report. “She escaped. She was very determined.” I could have added that she punched me, but he won’t be impressed. Borker stands behind me to my left, silently letting me take all the heat. I know the buck stops with me, the guy in charge, but he could at least provide a word of support instead of letting me stew. One of the joys of leadership I suppose.
“If you give me a crew I can go after her,” I add, which is the real purpose of my visit.
Father stops pacing and turns his eagle glare on me. “Where would you look for her?”
I know exactly where she will go, but I’m not telling Father or Borker how I know. “Her Uncle has a trading station South West of here, she will go there.”
“Hmm.” Father turns back to the window as a fluky in a pretentious top hat hurries past on some private mission. Father strokes his chin, slowly, as he thinks. I stand rigidly at attention, waiting. I have absolutely no idea what goes on inside that muddy mind of his.
Finally, Father makes his decision. “You must take an airship and go after her.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Borker steps forward. “May I suggest, Sir—”
“No you may not, Borker. Jack is in charge because I want her back alive, understand? No accidents.”
“—an arrest warrant, for the young gentleman. In case he needs to claim jurisdiction in some foreign sovereign state.”
“Oh, er, yes. Good idea Borker. I will draw them up presently.”
I smile inwardly—it’s not often anyone wrong—foots Father, but Borker obviously has the knack. One of his many talents. I shudder at the rumors of his other talents.
“And a Letter of Mark, sir. In case the young gentleman needs additional help,” Borker continues without changing his tone, though this second request is much greater than the first.
I hold my breath. I would never dare ask for something so audacious from Father.
A Letter of Mark would officially give me the authority to acquire anything on behalf of the City State of New Frisco: provisions, ships, people, weapons; it’s a bold move. Is Borker up to something?
Father’s brows snap together in a frown that I know from past experience means he’s furious again. “We are not pirates, Borker.” He turns his back on us, clasping his hand in the small of his back, dismissing us.
I salute, preparing to depart, but Borker remains stiffly at attention. “Of course not, sir.” He has some brass, I’ll give him that. “But the gentleman is very young and any constable he asks for help, whether our own or foreign, will most certainly out rank him, acquiring immediate control of the operation. A Letter of Mark will ensure his command, in any situation, without ambiguity. Unless, of course, you are prepared to trust this girl’s safety to any old stranger, sir.”
Since when has Borker cared about Nina’s safety? He is, without a doubt, the slyest person I have ever met.
Wrong-footed again, Father turns back to us. He looks at me, looks at Borker, and sinks slowly into a chair behind his desk. He steeples his hands in front of him, sinks his forehead until it rests on his fingers, and appears to meditate. He’s not praying, he’s thinking, long and deep, like a chess player—a game at which he excels. We wait.
Through the window I see the top hat hurry by in the opposite direction, mission completed.
Father stays like this, silent and unmoving, for a full minute. Contrary to his appearance, he is now at his most dangerous. Even Borker holds his peace. Eventually, father breaks the silence. “Do you know something I don’t, Borker?”
“What could I possibly know that you don’t, sir?”
Father’s head snaps up, his eagle eyes bore into Borker’s. “I asked you a direct question, Lieutenant. I expect a direct answer.”
I’m sure Borker pales slightly, but he stays steely calm. “Nothing more than you already know, sir. I just think we should prepare in case direct action is required.”
Obviously, they have discussed Nina without me and shared additional information.
In reality then, I am only in charge up to the point where they have agreed Borker should take over or in circumstances they think I cannot handle. I wonder how much I will be able to prove my worth before I am reined back. More importantly, is the Letter of Mark for me or Borker.
What do they know about Nina Swift that I don’t? On the other hand, I have plenty of knowledge about her they don’t, so I suppose we’re even.
