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A novel of adventure in the skies of colonial Africa. Work in Progress. |
Kisumu  Saturday morningTension crackled in the mess room of the Kestrel as everyone’s mind was on the terrible dilemma in which they were caught. Breakfast was taken from opened tins and packages of stale crackers, and no one was focused enough to complain about the fare. “So they plan to pick you up tonight and send Patty back to us” Monroe said. “Anyone here believe that?” Everyone looked to each other for a moment before Smith said, “We don’t know enough about this guy to make an educated guess.” “We know enough about his organization,” Jinx said, “or at least I do. Kraken is ruthless and has no regard for human life. If Reinhard is willing to trade another hostage for me personally, it can only be because he has worked out who I am, and hopes to gain information about the Darklighters from me.” “Well,” Monroe said, “we obviously can’t turn you over to him, then.” “He’ll send you Patty’s head through the post if you don’t.” “And what will he do to you?” “Nothing pleasant, I’m sure. But none of you would be in this situation if I hadn’t shown up, and consider this, Captain. I’ve spent the last several days turning over every rock trying to find this guy’s operation, and suddenly receiving an invitation to walk right in is an unexpected luxury.” “You aren’t going as a guest. You won’t have any tools, either. They’ll strip you down to the bare metal and they won’t leave you anything, not a hair clasp or a nail file.” “They can’t take away my training, and that covers a lot of situations. The only thing I need to know for my own information is whether you’re going to try to find me.” “Of course we are!” Monroe said, as if it was a silly question. “This isn’t one guy, Captain, or one guy with an assistant. He’ll have a staff of trained killers provided by Kraken, and the best equipment money can buy. Experimental devices. A lair seeded with traps and killing grounds. I know that you people are tough, but this may be beyond you, and in any case, I promised I wouldn’t involve you in my operations.” “We were involved the minute they snatched up Patience, and it wasn’t you who did that, it was them. Do you not want us to come?” “Of course I want you to, but I gave my word. That’s a decision only you can make.” “I’m in,” Smith said without hesitation. “And me,” Bakari said, pounding the table with his good hand. “You’ll need to stay aboard,” Monroe said. “Someone has to keep the fire tended.” “You will need all the help you can get.” “If the chance arises, you’ll be there, but you’ll need a gun,” Monroe told him. “Do you have any skill?” “Some. But reloading will be a problem that does not arise with a blade.” “Ah, that’s true. Well then, you’ll carry my LeMat. It holds ten rounds, then after those are expended, you can shift to whatever blade you favor.” “What about you, Captain?” Smith asked. “It occurs to me that you have three guns and only two hands. Perhaps I could use whichever one you aren’t.” “That’d be the Winchester, then.” “I should point out that my carbine will be available, and I have a small revolver as well,” Jinx said, “but I can’t believe you people are seriously considering doing this. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble, and what you’re talking about is likely to cost you all your lives.” “We have a marked lack of common sense when it comes to people we like,” Smith told her. “But there’s another thing we need to consider, Captain.” “What’s that?” “They’re gonna pick Jinx up in a motor carriage of some sort. How are we going to follow it, keep up with it, then get back here in time to welcome Patty with open arms?” “Maybe Patty can lead us back,” Monroe said. “I doubt it,” Jinx said. “They’re likely to be more than a little cagy about letting her know where she is.” “Darweshi, would you know any tricks that might help us find Jinx after she leaves here?” “Uchawi, Nahodha? If such exists, I am not aware of it.” “Damn. If we could get a bicycle here before tonight, maybe.” “Probably not a good idea. This conveyance they’re sending will certainly have a guard or two to keep me under control. They may find room for a spotter as well, and if he sees anyone following, it might not go well for Patty.” “What the hell,” Monroe mused, looking out the porthole, “we have to think of some— Oh, yes! Excuse me for a moment. I’m going to check on something.” Monroe left the room without further comment, walked up the central corridor, and climbed to the deck. Leaving the ship, he walked the quarter mile to Dock 4 at a brisk pace and stepped to the rail of the Leprechaun, lying at her mooring, a cargo on the dock waiting to be loaded. “Captain Finney,” he shouted. “Captain! I say, is anyone about?” “’ere!” came a shout through an open deck hatch, “’oo’s making all that racket? Bless the saints, it ain’t even noon yet!” “It’s Monroe of the Kestrel. I need a word with you.” “Well, come back at some civilized hour, an’ ye’ll have one!” “It’s rather important. How would you like to make five pounds?” “We’re a bit busy. Got a cargo, ye see.” “Patience has been kidnapped. I'm afraid we need your help.” There was a long pause, then, “’ang on a mo, then.” Shortly, Justin Finney climbed through the hatch. He was a wiry little man with thinning red hair and bushy sideburns, currently dressed in dirty trousers with an unbuttoned shirt over his suspenders, and unlaced boots. “What’s this about Patience, then?” “Kidnapped. Snatched right off the street in town. We got a ransom note last night, and the ransom is that the kidnappers want to trade her for the other girl who’s with us, Jinx. There’s going to be an exchange tonight, and they’ve set it up so that we won’t be able to interfere. Are you up for a bit of night flying? We’ll pay a fair rate.” “Night flying, is it? To where?” “Not far. Just a few miles, most likely.” “Any rough stuff?” “Not likely.” “A fiver, you say?” “That’s right.” “What ye got in mind, then?” Kisumu 10:00 PMTension was palpable aboard the Kestrel as the crew waited in various positions, Smith at the rail, Jinx sitting on top of the mess room roof, the others controlling their anxiety by whatever postures they saw fit. Presently, a pair of headlights rounded the head of the harbor and turned toward the aerodrome. The vehicle, whatever it was, was a wonder of the engineer’s art, covering the ground at a breakneck pace for a land conveyance, twenty-five miles per hour, maybe even more. Monroe realized that any thought they may have entertained of stealthily following it back to its lair was folly; a man moving at a dead run couldn’t keep up. The vehicle, large and high, a wheezing steam engine positioned over the rear wheels, pulled up at the base of the loading dock, and four men climbed down from the cushioned bench seats on the open top. They walked with a purpose up the ramp where two of them stopped at the rail, and the other two continued on aboard, spreading left and right to cover the crew with pistols. “We’re here for the girl,” one of those on the ramp said. Arab, Monroe guessed by his features. “We know,” Monroe said. “What about them?” “Reg and Notcher,” the spokesman said by way of introduction. “They’re brothers, sort of. Not real talkative, but they listen good. What they have been told is to wait here until we get back with the other girl. They won’t bother you, unless you try to leave the ship. Then, of course, they’ll cut you down." “What if we cut them down first?” The spokesman sneered, exposing a row of rotting teeth. “You’re welcome to try. Of course, if we get back and anything’s changed, we shoot the other girl and any of you that survived. But if you’re feeling lucky, it’s nothing to me, one way or the other. I’m just a messenger boy. Now, are you going to get her out here, or do we have a problem?” “I’m here,” Jinx said, stepping forward beside Monroe. “Well, let’s go,” the spokesman said. “We aren’t getting paid by the hour.” “Take care of this,” she said, handing Monroe her carbine, its belt rig wrapped around it. “I’m not finished with it yet.” “I certainly hope not.” She stepped across onto the dock where the quiet one turned her surprisingly gently and fastened her wrists behind her with a pair of handcuffs. Pointing toward the vehicle, he nudged her in the back get her moving, and they walked down the dock. “We’ll be back in an hour with the other girl,” the spokesman said. “If the status quo has been maintained, we’ll drop her off, and you’ll never see us again. If not, well, she’s going to have a very bad evening.” He turned and made his way down the dock. He and his partner boosted Jinx up to the seats, and climbed aboard. Amid much hissing and clanking, the high-centered vehicle made a wide U-turn and accelerated off toward town. And a thousand feet above, the motor airship Leprechaun engaged her airscrews and set off in leisurely pursuit. Following those huge driving lamps was going to bring the easiest fiver Justin Finney had ever earned. Kisumu 11:05 PMAnxiety had risen exponentially aboard the Kestrel with the departure of Jinx. Now Reinhard had both women as captives, and there was no predicting what he might do next. Most of the crew sat on various fittings on the cargo deck where they had been confined so that Reg and Notcher could hold them in position for a crossfire. Only Smith paced, unintimidated as always; he even put a thin black cigar in his mouth and demanded a light from Notcher. “Have you gone mad?” Monroe asked. “Air’s clear, Cap’n,” Smith replied, blowing a lungful of smoke into Notcher’s face. “This breeze’ll keep any errant hydrogen from backin’ up. Besides, wouldn’t it be a shame if these two baby-rapers went up in a fireball?” “Be more of a shame if we did!” “Maybe you’d better put that thing out,” Reg said. “Where’s your spirit of adventure, tough guy?” Smith asked, propping his foot on the rail. “David,” Monroe began, but Smith interrupted, pointing toward town. “Somebody’s comin’.” All eyes went to the road to the town where two large driving lights made their bumpy way toward the aerodrome. At this time of night, there was only one vehicle it could be. “Guess we’ll find out everything we need to know in a few minutes,” Smith said. “Guess we will,” Monroe replied, stepping to the rail beside him. “If this is a cross, don’t go quietly.” “Count on it.” All of them lined the rail to watch as the odd conveyance lurched to a halt at the base of the ramp. Two men climbed down, caught Patty as she was lowered from the seats, and stood her on her feet. One of them removed her blindfold, but her hands remained behind her. “Let’s go, boys,” he called up, and Reg and Notcher hopped across to the ramp and descended to cover the crew alongside their mates. “You gonna let her go, or not?” Smith asked. “In a minute,” the spokesman said. “I got a message from the boss.” “Well, what is it?” Monroe asked. “He says to tell you that we have no quarrel with any of you, nor your girl here. That was an unfortunate matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We did rough her up a little, but only when she tried to fight us, and then no more than was necessary.” “Good girl, Patty,” Smith muttered. “This other girl, the one you call Jinx, is nothing like she has told you. Our boss’s quarrel with her goes back long before you met her, and despite what she has undoubtedly told you, she is not the heroine in this little drama. If you get on your ship and fly away, you will never hear from us again. If you choose to interfere with Herr— with our boss’s operation, then we will not be responsible for the outcome. All right, you can go,” he said to Hobbs, and she started up the ramp. “The key to her handcuffs is around her neck. Think hard about what you have been told here. Let’s go,” he added to his men, and they climbed back aboard their vehicle. “They hurt you?” Smith asked Hobbs as Monroe unlocked her cuffs. “A little,” she said. “Could have been worse. They kept my gun.” “Here,” Monroe said, handing her Jinx’s mare’s leg, “put this on. How are you feeling?” “All right. I’ve just been sitting in a cell for the last few hours.” “Feel up to going after Jinx?” “They have her, too?” “We had to trade her to get you back.” “You shouldn’t have done that.” “She insisted. She called it an invitation.” “A poor idea on her part to accept. The boss man, this Reinhard, interrogates his captives with drugs. I have no idea what I might have told him about us, but he seemed pleased with what he got.” “Better drugs than a red hot poker, I suppose,” Monroe said. “Are you sure you’re all right, though?” “Yes, I’m fine, but how are we going to go after Jinx? I was shot with a drug dart, and have no idea where they took me. They brought me out blindfolded. If you’re counting on me to lead you back, I have no idea how.” “I have a friend who’s working on that,” Monroe told her. “The rest of you better get kitted up, too. Bring plenty of spare ammunition.” “No police, Captain?” Hobbs asked as the others headed for the accommodation ladder. “No. Police will take over, make us stay out of it, and they’ll make a big show of things. I don’t hold out much hope for Jinx if these people see a big gaggle of coppers forming up outside their hideout.” “We still have to find them.” “I told you, that’s being seen to.” “If you say so. Captain, there’s something else. This Reinhard is just as he was described, tall, and with a metal mask that covers most of his face, but there’s something familiar about him.” “What’s that?” “I can’t put my finger on it. He’s like a distant cousin that you knew as a child, you know what I mean?” “I think so. If you remember, you let me know, all right?” “Absolutely.” The others came up one-by-one from below, armed to the teeth and looking thoroughly dangerous. Bakari wore Monroe’s LeMat revolver in its holster with his assegai looped by a cord on his back, and Smith passed Monroe his Winchester rifle and a bandolier. “They’ll think they’re being attacked by Mexican banditos when they see this,” he said, settling the cartridge belt over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure nobody’s going to mistake you for a Mexican,” Smith quipped. “But we still have to find them,” Hobbs said. “Patience, Patience. I keep telling you, I have someone working on that.” He refused to divulge any further information for the next five minutes or so, until a voice came from the darkness on the side away from the dock. “Ahoy the Kestrel,” it shouted. “You lot ready to go aviatin’?” “Come on,” Monroe said, leading them down the dock and around to the dark side, where the Leprechaun hovered almost touching the ground. “Took your sweet time, I must say!” “Well, I could o’ dropped in while ye was bantering with your guests,” Captain Finney replied from his deck, “but I thought ye might consider that rude.” “You may be right, at that,” Monroe allowed, ushering his crew up the boarding ladder. “Found them all right, did you?” “Easiest fiver I’ll ever make,” Finney said, meeting Monroe at the rail. “They went into a big buildin’, a warehouse or a factory maybe, and closed it up tight. Acted like they was gonna stay for a spell.” “Well, let’s hope they do. We’ll be in a pretty fix if they move her later.” “Not as pretty as ye might think,” Finney said, starting toward the pilot house. “I left Dobbs an’ O’Reilly parked in the shadows to keep an eye on things, ye see. They’ll not be movin’ anything in secret, that’s for sure.” He pushed the throttles forward, and angled the nose up to gain altitude. “Amazing, Finney. Good Lord, you want diabolical, it’s hard to beat an Irishman. Do you need any help with the ship?” “Nah, not for a little hop like this. You lot just get yourselves ready for a dustup. I expect me boys’ll insist on helpin’ ye, though. Never knowed a proper Irishman who could ignore a fight goin’ on right under his nose.” |
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