Blackbeard Superbox, page 33
Meanwhile, the transport was disgorging heavily armed marines. Some set up a perimeter beneath the corvette’s protective guns, while others moved to secure the outbuildings. Scattered gunfire came from the greenhouses. Fitzgibbons strode off to give orders and was soon leading a group of thirty or forty men toward the main house. That left Malthorne protected by several personal bodyguards and the lord admiral’s own adjutant.
Ten minutes later, Malthorne got the call that the house had been secured. He met the colonel beneath a massive chandelier in the great hall. Fitzgibbons told him that several house servants and personal guards had died trying to protect the family, but that the baron had ordered a surrender as soon as he realized the futility of his situation, and there had been no further bloodshed.
Malthorne strode into the library to find the baron in his bathrobe in a chair, the man’s gray hair wet and uncombed. The library was a fine room, larger than the manor itself justified, filled with handsome volumes and excellent furniture. Under other circumstances, the admiral and the baron might have shared a drink and discussed their shared tastes in books and malted whiskey.
“You were in the bath,” Malthorne said, amused, as he took in Baron Drake’s condition. “And I worried you would give us trouble. Where are your wife and daughters?”
The baron glared back at him and didn’t answer.
“If they think to escape,” Malthorne said, “they will shortly be disabused of the notion.”
Indeed, Fitzgibbons’s men soon found two of them, and brought them in. The baroness, a still-handsome woman of about sixty, came first, wearing a bonnet and a sun dress with a floral print, as if ready for a stroll in the gardens. Moments later, two marines led in a pretty young woman with dark hair. She was tall, with a proud look in her flashing eyes that reminded the admiral of her older brother, James Drake, who had lately caused so much trouble. Both James and his sister resembled their mother. The young woman shrugged out of the grasp of the two young marines, who seemed reluctant to hold her with force.
“Which one are you?” the admiral asked the girl. “Helen or Madeline?”
“This is an outrage,” Lady Drake said. “You have killed our servants, destroyed our property. By what right—?”
“Say nothing,” the baron told her. “We will hear what charges he brings to justify this insult.”
The admiral ignored them and fixed the young woman with a penetrating stare. “I asked you a question. What is your name? Answer at once.”
“Helen, my lord.”
“And where is your sister?”
“Do not speak to him,” Lady Drake said, her tone as haughty as her husband’s expression. To the admiral, she added, “My older daughter is married these five months. You will not find her on the property. Indeed, she is not even a resident of Auckland anymore.”
“I would like to hear your charges,” Baron Drake said. “I would like to know under what pretenses you have attacked my estate and murdered my servants.”
“I would not have thought an explanation to be necessary,” Malthorne said. “Are you unaware of your son’s treason?”
He waved for the marines to get Lady Drake seated. The older woman was agitated, and Malthorne thought she might do something foolhardy. He didn’t want any of these people dead, not today, anyway.
“I am aware that James has been accused of such,” the baron said. “Yet we have not seen him, nor heard from him since the accusation. I cannot believe it is true.”
Malthorne didn’t know if the man was lying about hearing from Captain Drake, but the rest of it was disingenuous. Only a parent could view the mutiny and seizure of a Royal Navy cruiser, subsequent fights with other navy ships, and then an attack on the lord admiral’s personal property as a mere “accusation” of treason.
“He most definitely is a traitor, and we have reason to believe you have been aiding him in his treason.”
“That’s a lie!” the girl burst out. “James is a true patriot. He loves Albion more than you or anyone else. He would never do that! And neither would my father!”
“Helen,” the father said in a warning tone. “You will hold your tongue.”
“We are at war, Baron,” Malthorne said. “This time it may be for the very survival of Albion. The Hroom will turn our cities to rubble and enslave our people if we do not resist them. In the past, your seditious behavior might have been overlooked, but not this time.”
Lady Drake’s face had paled at the mention of sedition. “What are you saying?”
“Your husband has been aiding the traitor, telling your son where the Royal Navy is searching for him, and bribing naval officers so that they will let him slip out of traps we have set for him.”
“These are lies,” she said. “Tell him, Chester. You are innocent of these charges. How could you possibly know anything about traps or bribes?”
“He already knows I am innocent,” Baron Drake said slowly. A look of understanding passed over his face. “This is not about us, dear. This is something else. Some private scheme or plot. Some way to get back at James because he remains out of reach. Am I right, Lord Admiral?”
Malthorne didn’t address this accusation. “Baron Chester Drake, your lands and holdings are hereby confiscated. You will be transported to the Tower of York to be a royal prisoner while you await trial on charges of treason and sedition. The Admiralty will demand, and crown and Parliament no doubt concur, that you be hung by your neck until dead.”
Admiral Malthorne had fixed his gaze on the baron and his wife, sitting side by side in front of the cold hearth. The marines had similarly directed their attentions. But now a motion on the periphery caught the admiral’s eye. A sudden movement, the sound of metal scraping on metal. He turned to see the girl, Helen Drake, with a pistol in her hand, drawn from a book with a false center. She lifted the pistol and pointed it at the admiral, her hand steady, her face calm, a deadly look in her eye.
A spike of fear lanced Malthorne’s heart. In that instant, he knew he would die, and all because he had been so careless as to ignore the girl, so foolish as to forget that she was a Drake, made of the same material as her older brother. He could see it in the flinty look in Helen’s eye, the set of her jaw, the way that she held the gun without fear, her nerves made of ice.
Two of the marines spotted the movement at the same time. The first man threw himself between the admiral and the barrel of the gun. The second marine grabbed for the girl herself. Helen’s gun fired twice, and each shot hit the young marine who’d used his body to shield the admiral. He fell. The second marine nearly reached her, but she took a step back and fired again. The shot hit the man in the face. Unhindered once more, Helen now turned and calmly pointed her gun back at the admiral, who had stood frozen in place, unable to move. It had all happened so quickly.
And then Colonel Fitzgibbons fired. He had not moved from his spot. Instead, he had drawn his sidearm while others flailed about or stood transfixed. He shot the girl again and again as she fell. The gunshots only ceased when the girl lay motionless, legs twisted beneath her, the pistol falling from her grasp, blood on her chest and dribbling from her mouth.
The baroness was screaming, fighting against the two men holding her. The baron raged and cursed, and shortly disappeared under a swarm of uniformed marines. They kicked and punched to subdue him. Two servants rushed into the room, and Fitzgibbons’s men shot them dead without waiting to see if they would interfere.
Malthorne’s heart was still pounding from his near death. He found his voice. “Take the baron and baroness to my ship. They will both see York Tower.”
Outside, the fresh air of the Drake estate cleared his head. He turned to Colonel Fitzgibbons, who walked beside him with a scowl.
“You saved my life, Colonel. You and your marines. If you hadn’t reacted so swiftly, I would be dead.”
“I only did my duty, sir.” His voice was tight, strained. He must be furious that a girl of seventeen or eighteen had managed to kill two of his men.
“Nevertheless, you did your duty, and you did it well. We all should have taken closer note of the girl. No blame will fall upon you for it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Times will be troubled, Colonel. I need loyal men by my side. You come from an unpropertied lineage, am I right?”
“Yes, sir. We are, and have always been, a military family.”
“No longer. Now you will have lands and a title to add to the rank of officer. These estates. Do you fancy them?”
“Yes, sir. I would say that I do.”
“Very good. I will see to it that they are yours. Taken from a traitor and given to a man loyal and true—what more could be done? But only the land,” he added, thinking of his estate on Hot Barsa. “The manor house itself, you will burn to the ground.”
“I understand.” An eager, unseemly note had entered his voice.
“See that it is done.”
Malthorne regained the skies less than an hour later, the baron and baroness his prisoners. Below, the manor house and all its outbuildings made a raging inferno in the early morning, a sight that surely must be visible for miles across the Central Auckland Plain. Helen Drake’s body was still inside, burning along with all of those beautiful books and furnishings.
Chapter Sixteen
The New Dutch were practical sorts, not given to hysterics over the loss of their ship and its cargo. The barge captain and crew readily agreed with Drake’s demands. The gun would be disabled, the shields down at all times. Blackbeard and Orient Tiger would escort them to the ship’s final destination, see the tyrillium sold to the Hroom, and then set the New Dutch crew free. Of course, Drake and Vargus would keep the proceeds of the sale, but nobody else needed to die.
There was one small, unforeseen problem. Capp and Carvalho had been inspecting the captured barge to see what other goodies it might contain when they found some of their rivals from Orient Tiger attempting to smuggle off several thousand gold coins taken from the ship’s safe. The two sides came to blows. One of Vargus’s men was shot in the leg, and one of Drake’s people took a saber slash across her chest. In the end, Orient Tiger made off with the loot, and the conflict made it to the ship level.
Drake got Catarina Vargus on the viewscreen, and she agreed with him that the only solution was an equitable division of the treasure. Equitable, as she defined it, was a 70/30 split in her favor. After all, she had found the guilders, and she was now in possession of them. The two captains went back and forth, getting nowhere, until she suggested discussing the gold coins in person. By now, Drake’s crew was riled up, not only the enlisted men and women, but the officers, as well. Even the Hroom on board seemed outraged.
Drake saw no alternative but to agree to another meeting. But this time, on his ship. He was firm on that point.
#
When the two of them were alone in the war room, Catarina Vargus glanced about her without sitting. “So cold.”
“Would you like me to raise the temperature?” Drake said sarcastically, as he took a seat. “Or perhaps fetch you a jacket to cover your bare shoulders.”
“Not that kind of cold. Austere, boring even. Wood paneling on the walls, paintings of ancient sailing ships and men hunting foxes with hounds. Remind me again, is this the year 2630, or have I suddenly been transported back in time a thousand years? The room even smells of pipe smoke. You and your gentleman warriors, out subduing the savage reaches of space. Isn’t that right?”
“You have a fertile imagination. There is no smoking in my war room. And perhaps you didn’t notice that my officers include women.”
“Which is why I wonder that you are so hostile to me. It cannot be on account of my sex, yet it’s mystifying how you treat me as a subordinate and not a partner.”
Catarina came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. They were surprisingly strong, and when her finger brushed his neck above the collar, a thrill went down him. He shook off the sensation.
“I see what you’re doing. It won’t work.”
“What am I doing, James?” She took the seat next to him.
“You accuse me of dismissing you on account of your sex, and at the same time you’re not above using feminine wiles to get your way.”
“We use the tools we are given. It so happens that I possess ample sex appeal in addition to intelligence and energy. I didn’t expect you to be so hardened as to be immune. But maybe a man who would decorate his war room in this manner considers himself above female company. You’re a confirmed bachelor, I suppose.”
“Hand over the gold, Catarina. This ridiculous game is beneath you.”
“You’d end our partnership over a few thousand guilders? What is your personal share of that? It’s trifling. I thought you’d declared yourself above mere pecuniary interests. Apparently, that was a falsehood. You are more mercenary than I thought. Or are your debts to that scoundrel in the San Pablo yards greater than I’ve been told?”
“It isn’t about the money, it’s about control over our partnership. The proper hierarchy we agreed upon. You promised to obey me.”
“Submitting to your whims in battle is one thing, surrendering rewards that are rightfully mine, another matter entirely.” Catarina’s eyes flashed, and she sprang back to her feet. “I found the treasure, I seized it. In the battle, my ship took all of the risks and suffered most of the damage.”
“This time. Next time, perhaps not. But that is my call, not yours. I am the flag officer of our little fleet. I command the crew of the tyrillium barge, and I command you. If we add more vessels, if we gather every pirate ship within a hundred light years, my conditions will remain the same.”
“The devil take your conditions. I told you, James. I am a lord of space, fully sovereign. I answer to no man. I will obey you in battle—that I agreed upon—but I will not suffer under your tyranny.”
“You have no choice.”
“Is that so? What would you do if I took the money and simply ran? Would you hunt me down and kill me for it? Is that what kind of man you are?”
“I’d let you go, of course. The tyrillium is worth five times what you took in gold.”
“Five times the value, and ten times the risk. I’d take the gold and count myself lucky.”
“Then go,” Drake urged. “Keep the money and leave. I can better explain it to my crew that way. We keep the tyrillium, Orient Tiger keeps the gold. My crew can do the math.”
Catarina looked at him for several long moments as he returned her gaze without faltering.
At last she came and sat down by him again. She moved her chair next to his and leaned in so close that her breath was warm against his cheek.
“I don’t want to be your enemy, James. Please, believe me. We can have a wonderful partnership. Very prosperous.” Catarina put a hand on his knee. “And I’m not only talking about financially.”
“Is this a serious proposal, or another tactic in your attempt to cheat us out of our share of the gold?”
“I see interest in your eyes. If I slide my hand up your thigh a few inches, will I feel your interest?”
Drake was glad that his lap was underneath the table, and he prepared to grab her hand should she make good on her threat. Not that he fully minded, of course.
“On the one hand,” he said, “I’d like to think that you are sincere, that you’re not trying to play me because you’re so greedy for that money. On the other, romantic interest would complicate matters.”
“Complications are not always bad.”
“My life is already plenty complicated.”
“So what is one more thing?”
“Show me you are sincere,” he said. “Promise to send back our share of the gold.”
Catarina pulled back her hair and touched her left ear. “Da Rosa, are you there?” She frowned. “I can’t get through.”
“That’s because the room is shielded,” Drake said. He took out his hand computer and hit a couple of buttons. “Try it now.”
She tried again, and this time seemed to get someone. “Have you counted the gold? How much is there? That much? Send over eight thousand guilders to Blackbeard. Yes, I know that’s half!” she snapped. “I can do the math. Yes, I am serious. Do it at once.”
Catarina ended the call. “There, it is done. You will shortly have your gold. I hope you will trust that it is fully half.”
“Capp got a good look and seems to have an eye for that sort of thing. I’m sure she will tell me if you short me.”
“She will be satisfied, I promise.” Catarina’s hand remained on his knee, and now she leaned in. “As for what I was saying a moment ago—”
The door to the war room opened, and Tolvern stepped in. “Captain, we—” The commander stopped, and her mouth fell open as she looked them over, sitting so intimately together.
Drake sprang to his feet, embarrassed to be caught in such a position, the true folly of it washing over him. What had he been thinking? He straightened his uniform.
Tolvern recovered quickly. A brief flash of what looked like irritation, or maybe disappointment, crossed her face, and then her features smoothed. “We received a message from Orient Tiger. They are shipping over some gold. May I ask how much?”
“Eight thousand guilders,” Drake said. “Fully half. That’s what? About three thousand pounds worth in Albion guineas? Captain Vargus and I have come to an agreement.”
“Yes, sir,” Tolvern said dryly. “I can see that.”
#
An hour later, Tolvern had finished overseeing the counting of the gold coins. Catarina Vargus stood next to her in the engineering bay with her hands on her hips and a smooth, almost insolent look on her face. Tolvern tried not to let her jealousy rise up, but it was impossible.
