by Nick Travers
Chapter 19
Jack McGraw, you’re a fool, I tell myself. Furious does not even begin to cover my seething anger towards Lieutenant Borker. He left us here, tied to the prestige docks, on level one, of Newark platform, to meet some contact who may have information about Nina Swift. Why he thinks anyone on this rot of a platform will have even heard of Nina is beyond me. True, after the fiasco at the Western Post Hub she left in this general direction, but why would she stop here? Why not at the last platform we passed or the next or the one after that? Borker became very insistent, so in the end I let him have his way. He hasn’t returned for hours. And I’m holding a piece of pigeon paper that fills me with dread.
I have gamely volunteered to mind the ship so the entire crew can take a few hours shore leave, while Borker is gallivanting around. It’s good for morale, no reason they should have to hang around waiting for Borker to fulfil his wild errand. The crew left, animated and excited, and I immediately set about searching Borker’s cabin.
My Father is devious: most of the time he is the affable, pleasant, and reliable Mayor of New Frisco, but in the background he employs cronies like Borker to enforce his will. I can hear him in my mind right now. “Jack, my boy, you are too honest. You are taken in by that clap-trap they preach to constables about protecting and serving, being a noble knight of the people. Real power, Jack, comes from understanding the dark side of human nature and bending it to serve you.” My Father, I suspect, knows all about the dark side of human nature, but maybe not as much as Borker.
I don’t trust Borker and I have decided that to survive this command I need to become as devious as the good Lieutenant.
Borker’s cabin is neat and spartan, the man lives like a monk. He possesses no clothes other than his uniforms, no comforts, no luxuries, and his reading matter is comprised entirely of regulations and manuals, except for a thick book entitled ‘The Art of War’, by Sun Tzu. It’s the only interesting thing in this cell of a room and as I flick through the pages a piece of pigeon paper falls to the floor.
Whoever sent the message to Borker by pigeon did not declare their name. The crackly tissue paper is covered in small neat words. There are two bearings, both heading out from Newark platform: one heads to Newtonsteign, capital of the Microtough empire, and the other heads to somewhere called, ‘The village of the Damned.’ Underneath are the words, “I say again, you must bring her in alive. Do not disobey me. Your fate will be her fate and don’t even think of becoming a martyr to the cause.'
My heart freezes, I am such a fool—this can only relate to Nina. Does Borker want her dead so desperately that my Father has to warn him off. I have no doubt the message is from my Father, who else wants Nina Swift taken alive. I will have to double my attempts to keep Nina out of Borker’s clutches until she has a chance to prove her innocence.
So why has Borker gone looking for information he already possesses? And the greater mystery, why would my Father have the faintest idea where Nina is heading next? So far, her course seems entirely random. And what is the cause Father refers to? Clearly, they have left me out of some important parts of the loop—I should have known.
I hear footsteps on the boardwalk. Hurriedly, I slip the pigeon paper back into the Art of War and carefully place it back on the shelf, then hurry back up to the deck.
As my head pokes through the hatch I’m just in time to see Borker mount the gangplank. He’s red and sweating, and there’s a nasty cut on his right cheek. He looks like he’s been fighting. Behind him stride three smart police captains.
Barker salutes and addresses me crisply. “Captain, these gentlemen require sight of your Letter of Mark before they will allow us to coerce them to our cause.” Our cause? Or my Father’s cause?
“Is this necessary Lieutenant?” What game is he playing now?
“Quite necessary, sir.” He’s putting on a show for these other constable’s. He’s never called me ‘Sir,’ before, let alone saluted me. “My informants confirm our quarry has indeed visited Newark and is heading off in one of two possible directions. We need more vessels so we can split our forces to apprehend the murderers.”
So that’s the game: Borker brought us here to Newark in the hope of finding other constables to swell our ranks. I wish I knew who he’s been fighting, someone bigger and meaner than him I hope. I’ve never seen anyone get the better of him before—I bet there’s a tale to tell there.
I don’t bother to ask Borker about his informants or the possible headings, since I already know—let him think I trust him or have no interest. Instead I invite the captains of my new flotilla into the map room for a briefing. I usher them in ahead of me, then deliberately close the door on Borker. He’s not a ship’s Captain, so he has no right to claim a place in this briefing.
It gives me a petty sense of triumph to shut Borker out, but I know I will pay for it later. Still, it gives me the opportunity to stress the importance of taking Nina Swift alive and letting her stand trial for her alleged crimes.
The main question, is how do I stop Borker from shooting Nina out of the skies when we eventually catch up with her?
