by Sarina Dorie
Standing so close, it was hard not to notice he smelled of bay leaves and cologne, though how I knew what bay leaves smelled like I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was a cologne my father had once worn.
“What will you do with us?” Sumiko demanded.
So much for her not speaking English.
“Take you to the captain, but of course.” He glanced at Sumiko’s bedraggled clothes. “You’d best make yourselves presentable first. Before I step in the corner for you to dress, I suppose I should search your persons for weapons.”
I swallowed. I made myself not glance at Sumiko’s sleeve.
“Have you anything to hand over?” he asked.
We shook our heads.
He pointed to my feet. “I see you are concealing something. Give it here.” He held out his hand.
Reluctantly I handed over the hairbrush. It was my only weapon after all.
He turned it over in his hand and handed it back. “Is it not logical to assume that if you carry a hairbrush as your weapon, then you will have nothing more dangerous in your keeping?”
I nodded. Sumiko edged closer to me.
“How disappointing. I would rather have liked an opportunity to search such beautiful ladies, but it is not in my stars. I will let you ready yourselves and then escort you to mon capitaine.” He dipped his head in the most insolent bow I’d ever seen and then went over to my dresser and turned his back on us. He fiddled with the broken knobs on a drawer and pretended to examine my ribbons.
“These are pirates?” Sumiko asked in Jomon. I couldn’t tell if it was a question or statement. “There is something I must tell you about pirates.”
“I have quite excellent hearing, mademoiselles,” Jacques said, though to his credit, he didn’t turn around. “Do not think to conspire with me so close.”
I mouthed to her. “No. I don’t think so. He’s a Frenchman. However, from what I hear, they’re just as bad.”
Chapter Four
Meriwether, my son, do you come in? I repeat, do you come in? We wish to send you reinforcements. Send your coordinates to my ship.
—Lord Archibald Klark, on his private vessel
Captain Jeanfreau of the warship Napoléon sat in his study, not looking away from the three-dimensional star charts he sat inside. The Eastern arm of the Milky Way was spread out across the room, superimposed on the furniture. There was a planet near Commander Jacques Bleu’s feet and a darkened hyperjump point next to Sumiko’s head.
The captain was an elderly man who squinted into a pair of magnetic spectacles. The lenses zoomed in and out as he turned the stars about with gestures from his hand. It was quite daunting to look upon his bionic face.
After Commander Jacques Bleu had introduced us to his captain, Sumiko and I waited in silence. From what I could see, it looked like he planned his passage in much the same manner as Captain Ford had. Only in the opposite direction, heading back to Planet 157. Meriwether and Captain Ford were nowhere in sight. I wondered where they were.
My impatience growing, I asked, “Might I inquire why you boarded the Absinthe? As far as I know, we were breaking no law, and we weren’t in French territory.”
The captain didn’t deign to look at us. His English was so thick I strained to understand his words. “I shall be the one to ask the questions, young lady.”
“What did he say?” Sumiko asked under her breath.
“Later. And use Jomon,” I whispered.
She shot me her most formidable scowl.
“Mon capitaine, let us be reasonable,” Jacques said in French, coming forward from where he leaned against the wall. “These are young, frightened mademoiselles. And I did report to you how ill-treated they were by our soldiers. They are not spies.” He pinched one of Sumiko’s round cheeks. The one that wasn’t puffy and red. “Look how young and delicate these females are.”
From the way Sumiko clenched her fists, I could tell she didn’t appreciate being touched—nor underestimated. One of Sumiko’s advantages was that she had learned early on when to hold her tongue, having a brother in a position of high rank.
Jacques left Sumiko and patted my head as though I were a child. In truth, I felt about as powerful as a child.
The captain scribbled a note in a book and continued examining his map.
Jacques went on, “The least we can do is assure them of their safety and make them feel comfortable.” As if to demonstrate, he scooted a cushioned chair underneath me and pushed me into it. Sumiko sat at the table without being told.
She glared icicles at Jacques and then looked to me and back to him like she wanted me to understand something. His pistol was shoved haphazardly into his belt. Did she expect me to make a dive for it? I shook my head.
The captain slipped into French. “Oui, Commander Bleu, you are so perceptive. We shall catch more flies with honey than vinegar.” His scowl became a forced smile. He fixed his bionic gaze on me and spoke English again. “Have you any family we may contact to let them know of your whereabouts?”
I glanced at Jacques, who rolled his eyes. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who found the captain to be completely daft. At least when Meriwether pretended to be cloying and sweet, I’d been one of the few who’d seen through his guise. This captain on the other hand was no master of guile.
“Well, mademoiselle?”
I weighed my options. To say yes might ensure my safety, as it could lead to an eventual ransom, but it meant I would have to tip my hand and admit who my family was, who I was, and all I had seen. On the other hand, if I admitted such important politicians as the Jeffersons were my relatives, and these men were enemies with my grandfather or the American government, that might also be disastrous. To lie and say I had no relations meant I would not be ransomed, but potentially disposed of it we proved to be inconvenient.
“Damn it, Mary Smith!” the captain shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “Tell us who are your relations and what you were doing so far from the United Worlds of America.”
I flinched back. And wiped my face with a sleeve.
“Oh, no! Mon capitaine, interrogation is not your strong suit, no? That is more vinegar than honey,” Jacques said.
The captain straightened. “Tell us how the Frenchman named Charbonneau came to be aboard your ship and in the brig?” Charbonneau, the prisoner and spy Meriwether had been so concerned about. If he’d said anything, my anonymity would be gone. On the other hand, if the captain called me Mary Smith, the name I’d given him, I had to assume Charbonneau hadn’t told. But why?
Since they already thought I was simple, I used it to my advantage. “How am I supposed to know? I am a lady. You must put such questions to the captain. And where is our captain?” It was safer to ask about him than Meriwether, but he was the one I wanted to know about.
“Don’t play coy with me! I’ll have you skinned alive if you don’t tell me.”
Jacques sighed with indifferent boredom. “Capitaine, you will get nowhere this way.” He swaggered over to the old man and placed an arm around him in a chummy manner. “Let me deal with these two. You know I have a way with the ladies.” He winked at me.
I glanced at Sumiko. She at least used Jomon this time as she spoke. “Aren’t the two of them friendly with one another? I wonder which of them is commander between the sheets?”
“What did she say?” Captain Jeanfreau demanded.
Jacques clucked his tongue. “So sad. She is simply afraid for her well-being. Let me handle these two.”
The captain crossed his arms. His attention was already fixed on the star chart before him.
“You have so many other plans that are better uses of your time, Capitaine. Taking over a planet for instance.” Jacques offered me one arm and then Sumiko the other. “Come along, mademoiselles. You needn’t fear. Jacques is here.” He laughed.
We didn’t.
The commander’s thudding footsteps, and our lighter steps, echoed along the passage of the French ship. I gazed about at
the elaborate spirals and swirls decorating the arches. The Absinthe was sparse and cold in its structure compared to this vessel. Every step brought me closer to realizing what an artistic masterpiece the hallways were. On the ceiling was a mural of a blue sky with cherubs flying about. Had I known the French had such an appreciation for the arts, I might have begged them to take me aboard years earlier.
On the other hand, after the way we’d been treated, I might not have. I could only hope Meriwether was still alive.
Jacques strolled unhurriedly. Even so, his long legs were difficult to keep up with. Sumiko held onto one elbow and I held onto the other. I found myself trotting and out of breath in my corset as I pushed to keep up. It wasn’t even laced that tightly.
“Might I inquire where we are going now?” I asked.
“Back to your room aboard the Absinthe. We have no suitable accommodations for mademoiselles on our own ship.”
I lifted my skirts as we descended a set of stairs. Around the corner was the large bay where Captain Ford’s ship rested as well as two other ships. The enormity of the bay dwarfed the ship. Whereas I had thought the Absinthe elaborate with its gothic arches and metal frame, I now saw how plain it was in its construction and how the metal lacked the luster of the gleaming brass and steel of the French ship.
We passed an older ship next to it. The style reminded me of the Santa Maria, the ship my parents had brought to Aynu-Mosir twenty years before. Perhaps it had once been shining and beautiful, but the metal was now dull and part of it were charred and in disrepair. A black man dressed more like a civilian than a French soldier directed men as they rolled crates out from the older ship’s bay doors.
We made our way toward a ramp that led up to the door of the Absinthe. French soldiers guarding the ship entrance stepped aside to let us pass.
“What is to become of us?” I asked Jacques.
“That depends on you.” He smoothed down his dark mustache and beard. “It is in your best interest to come up with a more convincing story than what you’ve given mon capitaine so far, Mary Smith.” He said the name with a smirk.
Sumiko and I exchanged worried glances. The commander led us down the familiar hallway to our rooms. Our footsteps echoed in the silence. There was no rumble of engines or voices. Our escort stood before our door and gestured for us to enter.
I waved my hand at the panel to the side of the door and it opened. The odor of sweaty soldiers still lingered, and the broken furnishings were the same jumble of chaos as we stepped in. No robotic maids had been about for cleaning duties.
I was once again reminded of Jacques’ height when he ducked under the doorway. He stroked his beard, looking me over and then Sumiko. It was a calculating look, one I didn’t like.
I spoke before he could. “Were there any other survivors from the ship?” I held my breath.
“Oui. The capitaine and the prisoner in the brig.”
“Oh.” Had Meriwether escaped? I realized I had no way of asking if I was to stay incognito. Even if I asked if they had killed anyone, that would give away there was one more.
Jacques’ lips curled up into a devilish grin. “Why do you ask? Was there someone else you were expecting to hear about?”
“The animals in the cargo bay,” Sumiko quickly supplied. “Some of them are dear pets. They have not been harmed? No animal or persons have been slaughtered?” She stepped closer to me.
She was so smooth. How I wished I could lie as well as she did!
“Aren’t you precious?” Jacques chuckled. “No, we wouldn’t harm your chiramanteps. Those beasts are quite dear to us as well, though I suspect not for the same reasons they are to you.” He swaggered over to my dresser. He flipped open the lid to my jewelry box and eyed the contents before closing it. “To feel such affection for all living creatures—save for the soldiers who attacked you. It warms my heart.” His expression turned serious. “But alas, could it be you wish to know about Meriwether Klark?”
I inhaled sharply. Jacques looked up from the drawer he scanned.
“Who?” I asked.
Jacques chuckled. It was deep, throaty sound that I might have enjoyed laughing along with had the circumstances been different.
Sumiko muttered in English. “He doesn’t believe you. Nor can I blame him.”
Why did she have to choose now to use her English? I leaned toward her and spoke in Jomon. “Stop speaking English. It will give away how much you know.”
Jacques opened another one of my drawers and held up a pair of bloomers before stuffing the contents back inside. “Do not bother yourself with playing coy. I already speak her tongue,” Jacques said. “Though, I suspect what would be a greater giveaway to the capitaine, were he not such a fool, would be that neither of you know how to tie a kimono.”
Sumiko turned away from Jacques and closed her eyes. The pinched expression on her face told me she would have liked to murder someone about then. Her silent loathing turned into a snarl when Jacques tugged on the bow holding her kimono closed and yanked the sash off her. Sumiko had never been one to be modest, but she shrieked and held her robe closed. I snatched up the hairbrush from my nightstand and smacked his hand with it.
He darted to the side where I couldn’t reach him. He inclined his head to Sumiko in the smallest of bows. “Do not fret, chérie. I have no intention of undressing you. Not now anyway.” He winked at me. “I only insist on showing you how to tie an obi on a kimono if you intend to pass as a Japanese woman.”
He arranged the sash around her waist and proceeded to tie it. Sumiko bore it in silence.
“How would you know how a Japanese woman dresses?” I asked.
“I have been to many ports, on Earth and otherwise. I am a man of many talents.” His wry smile said he’d bedded women in these many ports as well and probably spent plenty of time undressing them.
I crossed my arms. “You speak Jomon, so you’ve been to Aynu-Mosir?”
“Planet 157? That would be the logical conclusion. N’est-ce pas?”
“If you’re so fluent in Jomon then why don’t you use it?” Sumiko asked in Jomon.
He snorted, but he didn’t answer.
Meriwether had wanted Sumiko’s ethnicity to remain hidden, but here it was, out in the open. This man, a certain enemy of my fiancé, already knew my secrets. Meriwether had said there was a female informant living among the Tanukijin and had thought me to be that person. If that was the case, Jacques was a likely candidate of who had received that information. But who had been the spy? There were no Tanukijin women I knew of who spoke French, and few spoke English well enough to communicate with off-worlders.
Sumiko toed the floor in a guilty manner.
Surely it couldn’t be Sumiko. She told me everything. And she insisted I tell her every detail about my life. I thought about the way she had wanted every detail about my time with Meriwether. Almost every detail. She hadn’t asked about his insinuations and obsession with the French and spies. She’d asked about personal details like our romantic involvement. Could it have been to keep me distracted by lesser matters?
I pushed the thought away. My best friend was no spy.
“It would be natural to wonder what else I know about you.” Jacques strolled closer to me. “I can tell your lady’s companion carries a small weapon in her left sleeve. Or she did, anyway.” He held up the pistol.
Sumiko patted her sleeve incredulously.
“Obviously neither of you know how to use a pistol, or you would have shot the soldiers in your room. Such a pity. I had hoped one of you might actually figure it out and use it on the capitaine. He is so droll it is hard to see how he ever gained rank on this ship, even if he supposedly is Napoleon’s cousin, twice removed. Alas, perhaps one of you will shoot him for me another day, no?” He set the pistol on the nightstand. “What else do I know?” He inhaled sharply. “You, Miss Earnshaw, have been using memory moss recently.”
I flinched back. I was as startled by his observation as I was
that he used my family’s name.
He stroked his beard. “Not with each other, but with someone else. Who could that be, I wonder?”
“Is that what you think?” I asked.
“I know it. Not merely from the perfume of it on your skin. There’s a bit of green under the fingernails of your right hand.”
I inspected my hand and swallowed. Indeed, he was right.
“Should I go on listing what else I know? At least one of you finds me irresistibly charming. N’est-ce pas?”
Sumiko spit on his boot.
He frowned and scooted away from her.
“If you already knew who I was, why did you pretend you didn’t?” I demanded. “Why must everyone pretend to be what they are not?”
“Why indeed?” His smile was amused. “Why do you?”
“For safety.”
“Quite so, and with good reason. There’s no place more dangerous than the bed of your enemy.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re the double agent, aren’t you? Who do you work for? Lord Klark or the Jomon?” I asked. “Have you delivered arms to the Tanukijin in exchange for red diamonds?” That was what Meriwether had implied, wasn’t it?
“No, he hasn’t.” Sumiko said in Jomon. She pointed a finger at him, a gesture Jomon rarely did as it was considered so rude. “This scoundrel said he would, but he hasn’t delivered on any of his promises.”
A lump of dread settled into the pit of my stomach. Meriwether hadn’t trusted me for fear I was a spy in the employment of the French. Sumiko had said she wanted to confess something earlier to me. In the captain’s study, she had tried to tell me something with her eyes that I couldn’t read. Now I knew.
She was their contact.
Chapter Five