by Giles
Jerard continued. "Myself, Mr. Lance Nichols, Mr. Donald McPherson and Mr. Jeremy Landover are here as neutral parties and hereby witness this duel." Jerard waited to continue until he had nods of assent from each man standing by.
"You will begin here, standing back to back with your weapons held down at your sides. Take your positions please."
Carstares and Reinhardt took their places; Carstares chose to position himself so that the sun would be on his left when he turned to fire. He noted with satisfaction that Reinhardt did not seem to take note of the sun's position or it's potential to interfere with one's aim. He relaxed slightly at having achieved this small advantage, now if he could avoid being shot, they just might be able to pull this whole thing off.
The rest of the men immediately present stepped back a dozen steps or so before Phillips continued. "You will each pace off twenty steps to my count in your chosen directions. When I reach twenty you will turn and fire. Only one shot is permitted. Are the instructions clear?"
"Yes." Carstares said clearly.
"Of course!" Reinhardt said, sneering.
"We will begin." Phillips said. "One!"
Carstares and Reinhardt both stepped out on Jerard's count. Carstares relaxed his grip on his pistol and forced himself to breathe evenly.
"Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…"
Halfway Carstares thought and took a deep breath to clear his mind. He focused on Phillips' voice and continued pacing getting ready to turn and fire.
"Eleven…Twelve…Thirteen…Fourteen…Fifteen…Sixteen…Seventeen…Eighteen…Nineteen…"
The sound of the pistol exploded into the silence. Carstares experienced the most amazing pain in his back and side as he felt himself propelled forward. He watched as the ground seemed to rise up and block his vision. The grass tickles, he thought and it sounds like steel, like soldiers drawing swords...
Gyldenfeldt was the first to react; he drew his sword and ran towards Reinhardt. The second man to move was Mac; he sprinted towards Carstares.
"Bloody Hell!" Nichols shouted.
"People are coming!" Adams shouted running towards Phillips and waving his arms.
The Swedish ambassador grabbed Jerard's arm and shouted, "We've got to get out of here!"
Jerard seemed to be moving in slow motion. He pulled his arm from the Ambasador's grasp and pushed him towards the carriage. "Go!" He commanded.
"But I came with…"
"Just Go!" Jerard interrupted. He then turned to Adams and shouted, "Bring the carriages up! Now!" Seeing that Adams had turned to obey his orders he next turned his attention to Nichols who was standing at Jerard's side, still dumbfounded. He shoved him towards where Carstares lay. "Go man, you and Landover help Mac!"
"But I can take him from here Sir." Landover said calmly, his pistol was already out and he was aiming towards the now sword dueling Gyldenfeldt and Reinhardt.
"No." Jerard said as one of the carriages careened past. "Help with Carstares. Guard him."
Phillips ran towards the dueling men. It was hard to determine who was winning. Each man was obviously a master but he thought it looked like Gyldenfeldt was pressing his opponent back. He opened his mouth to call out to Gyldenfeldt but he stopped; he did not want to break the man's concentration. Hearing the sound of a motor bike he turned to see Howell and Randal speeding towards him. He also saw several armed men coming out of the surrounding woods. He fervently hoped they were Gyldenfeldt's.
"Go Captain! See to my friend!" The LensBaron shouted. "I will deal with this cowardly dog and the authorities who were probably tipped off by Gaspe!"
Reinhardt took full advantage of Gyldenfeldt's divided attention and lunged forward. His sword flashed down and took the LensBaron's sleeve off at the shoulder. But Gyldenfeldt was ready; he slid his own sword smoothly into Reinhardt's chest and smiled as his foe's eyes rolled up into his head. The big man gracefully lifted his foot and kicked Reinhardt off of his blade. He turned and saluted Jerard with the bloody sword. "Go! I will deal with this!"
Jerard decided that the LensBaron was probably right and ran for the parked carriages. He motioned for Howell and Randal to follow. Seeing that the injured man had already been loaded he jumped onto the back of the carriage in the footman's position and pounded on the roof. "Go! Go! Go!" He shouted and tightened his grip on the rail as the carriage lurched forward.
Jerard could not have told you how long it took to get back to the airship. His brain seemed to be frozen into that moment in time when he said the word 'nineteen' and saw Reinhardt turn and shoot Carstares in the back. Nichols' words 'bloody hell' echoed over and over in his mind as the scene kept replaying itself. He was not aware of his surroundings until his body slammed into the carriage as it lurched to a halt.
All around the airship were men who looked as dazed as he felt; one was clutching his head, another was holding his arm. Who are these people? Jerard jumped off of the carriage and flung open it's door. Carstares was on the floor of the carriage, his legs flopped out. "God almighty" Jerard swore and grabbed the legs. "Let's get him inside! Where to Mac?"
"Paulo's prep table in the galley, it's the cleanest place in the ship." McPherson replied as he moved out of the way for Landover to get Carstares' shoulders.
Phillips and Landover slid Carstares out as gently as they could. Mac shoved his bloody wadded up jacket at Nichols. "Here, walk with them and keep pressure on his back! I will meet you in the galley with my equipment, be sure Paulo is there, I will need his help."
Nichols jumped out of the carriage after Mac and moved to support Carstares' body in the middle, holding the jacket as instructed. The three men struggled up the ramp and into the ship. Carstares never made a sound or opened his eyes until they laid him gently on the table in the galley. And even then he only grunted softly as they turned him on his side.
"Out!" Mac said. "Everyone except you Jeremy and Paulo, and Captain send Roger here as well."
"I'm here Sir." Roger Landover said as he slipped between Phillips and Nichols.
"Excellent! Now the rest of you out!"
"I can help…" Jerard began.
Lance Nichols reached over and took Jerard's arm. "Best we get out Sir. Mac's got enough help; we've other things to do."
Jerard looked at Nichols' pleading face and finally nodded. The two men left the galley and moved into the crew dining room. Everyone seemed to be gathered here. Jerard looked around for Tash. He was going to have to explain what happened. Oddly enough he did not see her.
Jerard stopped scanning the room and focused on Wallace. His eyes widened as he took in the boy's disheveled appearance. But what was most disturbing was the shotgun he held cradled in his arms.
He looked at the men standing beside Wallace; really looked at them. Mr. Collins had one swollen eye that seemed to blacken even as Jerard looked at him. Anerin Jones had a pistol dangling from one hand and looked like he had been dragged through the dirt. DeReuter's face was pale and drawn, his sling was missing and he was holding his broken arm awkwardly. Tanner appeared to be holding Mr. Phelps up-right and neither of them looked good.
Howell and Randal took this moment to enter the dining room. They had come up from the cargo bay presumably after parking the motor bike. "Good god!" John Howell exclaimed and he rushed to Tanner's side. He then asked the question that was foremost in Jerard's mind. "What the hell happened here?"
It was Wallace that spoke up. "Sir they've taken her."
Jerard blinked and blinked again, his brain was trying to take in what Wallace had just said. The only her in his life at the present time was Tash. "Tash?" He said softly afraid to really ask the questions that had begun screaming across the fabric of his mind. "Who?" Jerard said more forcefully.
"T’was tha two customs blokes, Sir. An I’m thinkin’ they took Mr. Wright and Mr. Dortsman as well. They went off in tha HLC an they took tha motor bike too.” Wallace swallowed hard before continuing. “ I'm verra sorry Captai
n, we tried. Gopal went after them on foot."
"We need to go after them! Adams! Can you release the ground anchor? Nichols, get to the aux bridge and get the engines fired up. D'Arcey, get to the bridge so you can assist Mr. Nichols…."
Nichols and Adams were already in motion when Wallace interrupted Phillips. "Begging ya’ pardon Sir, but we naer found Mr. D'Arcey."
"What?!" Jerard said and everything stopped. What do you mean you never found D’Arcey? Where could the man have gone?”
Wallace shrugged and then winced as if the action had hurt. “All o’ his belongins are in our cabin Sir. We bin lookin’ fer the man afore the fightin’ started.
"Begging your pardon Captian.” Mr. Howell said before Jerard could reply. “But I think we might need a bit more information here before we go leaping off. I've a mind to hear this story from the beginning if you'll permit it, Sir." Howell was kneeling by the now seated Phelps examining the man's leg. The swelling in the knee joint was obvious even from where Jerard stood.
Jerard knew logically that Howell was right. But every part of him wanted to get to Tash. He needed to know she was alright, needed to see her safe, and needed to see her smile. Jerard knew he was panicking, and it was not the answer. He took a deep breath. "You are completely correct Mr. Howell. Please, everyone sit down for the moment at least. Mr. Wallace, please tell me what happened."
Wallace did not wait until everyone was seated nor did he find a seat for himself. "Well Cap it were like this. Miss Tash, Mr. Gopal and I were havin' a cuppa o’ tha bridge after we finished tha searchin’ fer D’Arcey. I noticed these folks started arrivin' an settin up cameras. Miss Tash, she said it was tha press and we needed ta get rid o' 'em. At first there was only a few but they kept comin'. Some o' them started bangin' on tha door. Miss Tash she gets up an with Mr. Gopal they go ta answer. Well it weren't the press at tha door. It was them customs men from last eve. The ones Mr. D'Arcey run off. He did say they'd be back an there they were."
Jerard nodded and motioned for Wallace to continue. He remembered D'Arcey telling him about the customs officers.
"Well Sir, some o' them reporters tried to get in when Miss Tash let the two customs blokes in. She tells Mr. Gopal and me to deal with 'em and she'll show the officials tha cargo hold. That's when it turned ugly, Sir. Them press would'na take no for an answer and several o' them shoved past me an Gopal. There was so many o' them Sir and we could’na get tha door closed again."
"That’s right Sir!” Tanner spoke up. “I found two of them Sir, here in the crew lounge. They were obviously stealing Sir. They had a bag and were filling it up like they were in the market. That's the bag over there Sir." Mr. Tanner said as he pointed to a burlap sack on the floor in front of the cupboard. I tried to stop them Sir but they got the best of me. Paulo heard me yelling and came running out of the galley." Tanner grinned. "That was sure something to see Sir, bashed one of them with his fry pan he did."
"I think Captain that this is where I came in." Anerin Jones said. "I opened my cabin door to see what the noise was all about and ran smack into one of them. He was heading towards the bridge and I gave chase."
"Paulo and I got a hold on the other fella and we marched him towards the bridge. Well Sir, about the time we got to the stair way we see Phelps here bouncing down like a child's ball."
Phelps grimaced. "I found one upstairs on the B deck Captain, the bastard caught me off guard and threw me down the stairs. I fetched up at Tanner's feet . I must have hit my head Sir as I don't remember much after that."
"That's alright Mr. Phelps. Go on Tanner." Phillips said.
"Well Sir I was searching for the bloke and did not find him on B deck so I went up stairs. That's when I found him and Gus going at it. We managed to take him down Sir and locked him in the closet in the nose cone. He's still there Sir."
"Well done then!" Cried Nichols.
"Yes, well done gentlemen. But I thought you went to bed Mr. deReuter?" Jerard queried.
DeReuter blushed. "Couldn't sleep Captain, just after midnight something went crazy with the ballast tank gauges. They went back to normal but it bothered me so I thought I would just check them again before I rested."
Jerard nodded. Good man deReuter he thought but he really wished they would get on with this story and they probably would if he would stop interrupting. Every minute that ticked by increased his concern for Tash ten fold. Where the hell is she?
"Tanner told me what happened so we headed back downstairs.” de Reuter continued. “Mr. Phelps was still there at the bottom of the stairs so we moved him to the sofa. We could still hear the row going on in the anti-room. So I went to my room Sir and got my shotgun and Mr. Tanner here went to the galley and got Paulo's pistol. I find Sir that the threat of lead will usually break up a fight pretty fast."
"Agreed." Jerard said trying to fill the pause and encourage the man to get on with it.
"I couldn't get the shotgun loaded, Sir. My arm's in a bad way, I hope I did not break it again."
"I helped him load it, Sir." Tanner interjected helpfully. "But we couldn't find any ammunition for the pistol."
Jerard found himself ready to scream. The ship was obviously secure; tell me what happened to Tash and Gopal!
Mr. Howell stood up. "With your permission Sir, I would like to go and retrieve our prisoner. He may be able to shed some light on this incident."
"Yes, yes." Phillips said impatiently.
"Mr. Jones, Sir. Might I have that pistol?"
"Yes, but as Gus just said Sir, it's not loaded."
"Doesn't matter." Howell said grinning. He took the pistol and winked at the Captain before heading out.
Jerard finally lost his patience. He was a man of action and standing here listening to his crew prattle on excitedly was alien to his nature. "What happened to Miss Smythe-Harris?" He ground out between clenched teeth.
"I can tell you part of that Sir." Mr. Collins said as he stood up. "I was in the engine room, Sir. I had no idea of what was goin' on up here. I was walkin' to the auxiliary bridge when I heard the sound. I recognized it you see. It was the sound of the vehicle cradle being lowered. I thought maybe you were back so I headed to the cargo bay. You know Sir, to help get the motor bike secured and well I was hopin' to see Dr. Nordstrom too." Collins paused and scratched his head.
"The problem is that I couldn't make sense of what I did see, not at the time Sir. It wasn't till I came to that I figured it out."
"Tell me what you saw Mr. Collins and your conclusion." Jerard said.
"Well Sir, the first thing I see is Wright working the controls to lower the vehicle cradle. He was talkin' to someone and tellin' them to start the HLC's engine. I turned my head when I heard the thump. That was when I saw Miss Tash. She had her hands tied together and it looked like she had just belted this bloke. I found out he was the custom's man later, Sir. So anyways it made this man mad and he punched Miss Tash in the head. Well Sir, she crumpled like a piece of paper. That was when I shouted, I was gonna kill that bastard, Sir. I think maybe I took two steps at him when I saw old Ed run and catch miss Tash before she fell. And I am sorry Sir but that is the last thing I remember, well except for me head exploding. I think that fella that Wright was talking to hit me from behind. Mr. Wallace told me there was two of them customs devils.
Jerard's gut was in a knot as tight as his fists were balled up. "Where are they?" He growled deep in his throat.
Fred jumped out of his chair. "Easy there Captain." He said. "We'll get her back Sir."
Jerard turned a hard glare on Fred who stood his ground. It took a moment for the red haze to clear from his vision and another full minute for him to get a measure of control back. Seeing the whole assembled crew staring at him with apprehension Jerard forcefully blew out the breath he did not realize he was holding. "Where - is - she?" He asked again, his words were slow and careful.
"Sir." Wallace said into the tense silence. "Gopal an I had gotten the last o' the ruffians out tha
door when we saw tha HLC go a flyin by, tha motorbike right behind. Miss Tash were in tha back seat wrestlin' with Mr. Wright. One o' them customs blokes was drivin' and Mr. Dortsman was in tha front with 'em. Tha other customs man were on the motorbike Sir. Gopal, he never stopped or even blinked, just ran after ‘em. If you'd ha' seen the look o' his face you would know wha I know Sir."
"And just what is that Mr. Wallace?" Jerard said narrowing his eyes.
"If he catches 'em won't none o' 'em live fa verra long."
“Good. Now, let’s get this ship in the air, we’re going after them. To your stations!”
“But what about D’Arcey Sir? And the Colonel? What happened to the Colonel Carstares, is he alright?” Jones asked.
Mr. Nichols stepped forward and answered. “The filthy scum cheated and shot Colonel Carstares in the back. The bullet went clean through on his side, but he needs a lot of patching up. Mac will let us know when he finishes. Now, you all heard the Captain, to your stations!”
Mr. Howell took that moment to shove the prisoner through the door. The man staggered and careened into one of the dining tables and laid on the floor moaning.
"He doesn't know anything." Howell said disgustedly. "He's just a hired thug. Apparently there were ten of them in all. They posed as reporters and mingled in with the real reporters for the sole purpose of causing trouble. Their orders were to get aboard the ship and cause a fight. He doesn't even know who hired him."
Howell bent down and hauled the man up by the collar; his face was a total mess. One eye was completely swollen and beginning to blacken. Blood leaked from a mouth and nose that had been expertly worked over. DeReuter whistled in amazement and exchanged a look with Mr. Howell.
"I suggest Captain that we toss this rubbish out before we take off."
"I agree Howell." Jerard said. He looked around at the rest of the crew who stood in stunned silence watching Howell and the prisoner. "Move!" He shouted.
The room erupted in movement and sound as everyone hurried to their stations. Jerard fell in behind Mr. Howell as he escorted the battered man to the door. Howell literally threw the man down the ramp and then followed at a more sedate pace . He picked up the bottom of the ramp and maneuvered it back into it's slot under the floor of the gondola. With a grace that belied his bulk he leaped into the anti-room as Phillips shut the door.