Den of Smoke

by Christopher Byford

  Cole waved the sand plumes from his vision as he stared downwards. Finally, he confessed his thoughts. ‘There’s no way he survived that fall is there?’

  ‘Nope,’ Alvina chimed in.

  The Jackrabbits immediately fell silent as over the din, someone called out from the next deck up.

  * * *

  ‘Joey, move your ass or we’re going on without you!’ Geoffrey Sanders bellowed. He had impatiently taken to doubling back on the deck above, calling out his warning with utter sincerity. After all, the kid was constantly lagging behind on jobs and Geoffrey had no intention of messing this one up on account of bad timekeeping. He looked over the deck edge, spitting over it when Joey was nowhere to be seen. Disgruntled, he paced back to his position.

  Lewis Sanders sat hunched against a beam, his stocky body doubled over, racked with shudders. His eyes were angry red and streaming and when he coughed it felt like the action did nothing to clear what he had inhaled. Geoffrey knelt down to him once more, checking Lewis’s face by turning it this way and that.

  ‘That should be the last of the guards. Even still, watch your back. It’ll just take one of these assholes tucked away to cause problems,’ Geoffrey said, concerned for his cousin’s wellbeing.

  ‘What was in that damn smoke, huh? Did we catch fire?’ Lewis hacked once more, spluttering every time with tears trailing troughs down dirtied cheeks.

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Let’s just clean up here and get back to Derek. Do you think you can walk? I don’t like the idea of leaving you to –’

  The sentence wasn’t finished.

  Sneaking up the connecting gantry staircase, the Jackrabbits had moved silently onto their level and followed Geoffrey from behind. Noticing their clear advantage, it wasn’t until the group was upon the pair of invaders, and the blade of the Pendulum dug into Geoffrey’s back, that they knew what was happening.

  ‘Howdy, boys. No sudden movements if you please, or we’ll have to do something unpleasant,’ Jack stated in his typical cocksure manner. Alvina relieved the pair of their weaponry, then tossed the guns overboard.

  ‘There we are. That’s much more comfortable, isn’t it? I’ll be brief. Joey was pretty uncooperative so I’ve decided to ask you the questions I put to him.’ Jackdaw spun Geoffrey around by the shoulder, pushed him into the wall and held the barrel aligned to the man’s forehead. ‘Say something I don’t like and you’ll end up the same way. First question. For what reason are you all here? Second question. Who’s running this here show? Third question. Where can I find said chump who set about wrecking a good heist?’

  Geoffrey puffed his chest outward, quite defiant even in the face of his own demise. Outnumbered, unarmed and with one of them incapacitated, there was no way to fight out of this. The only thing keeping the pair alive was information and that would be their only bargaining chip.

  ‘If you got no answers from, Joey, then why do you think I’ll talk?’ Geoffrey grunted, quite adamant to draw this out for as long as he could, as the longer it took, the higher the chance of the Jackrabbits being discovered.

  Jackdaw blinked in surprise. ‘Oh no, you’ve got it wrong. He’ll be the one to talk.’ Jack moved the line of his gun downward to Lewis who coupled his shock with a sudden yelp. ‘You’re just going to inspire him.’

  Blakestone darted past like a comet, landing a left hook so devastating that it shattered Geoffrey’s jaw. The man collapsed unconscious, as if all life had abandoned him.

  ‘Now he …’ Jackdaw squatted before Lewis and gestured to the now comatose man on the floor ‘… he can’t talk no more. In fact he’ll have a hard time eating in the near and far future. I’m looking for your kin – Derek. You might not want to tell me his whereabouts and that’s a perfectly understandable response. Though it is my duty to remind you that the body is a fragile thing. Has all sorts of weak places if you know where prod and poke.’

  The tip of the Pendulum playfully jabbed away before Jackdaw snorted through his nose in seriousness.

  ‘And if you don’t spill, I’ll swear on the Holy Sorceress herself that I’ll introduce you to each one in turn.’

  * * *

  ‘What’s the play then, boss?’ Cole asked, doing what he could to distract himself from the grizzly spectacle he had just witnessed. If he turned back on the walkway now, the final result of the questioning would have haunted every night from now until the day of his final breath.

  ‘Seems to me that this here ship is infested with vermin of a Sanders Boys nature. We can safely assume that they’re going to be both armed and pissed off the moment we’re paid some attention. By all accounts Derek Sanders is in charge, one of the nastier siblings in their litter, so I can promise that when we’re revealed to them, it’s all going to turn very personal. He hates me. He hates us. Murdering his kin will ensure he holds a grudge for the rest of his days. He’s petty like that.’

  ‘What’ll we do then?’ Blake asked.

  Jackdaw shrugged. ‘The plan don’t change. Same orders. We get the score, we get out.’

  ‘And the Sanders Boys?’

  ‘Endeavour to keep things quiet. If all else fails, they won’t hesitate to shoot first. Make sure that’s not the case. If things get loud, you’re off the leash. Gun every one of them down. It’ll be them or us.’

  ‘Jack, this is trouble we never expected …’ Alvina sounded concerned, a rarity considering her level-headed nature.

  ‘I’m fully aware of that. Even still, we’re here to do a job and like other jobs, if there’s ever any difficulties, we compensate. I want you three to go for the safe without me. No arguments.’

  ‘Why? What will you be doing?’ Cole asked.

  ‘I’ll go for the bridge. Derek is stationed there apparently, so he and I are going to have a chat. See if I can make him see sense and give up without a noise. With any luck I can cause a distraction to make sure that you get the goods with little in the way of obstruction.’

  ‘That’s suicide!’ Cole retorted.

  ‘Word is I’ll be strung up if we return empty-handed, so I don’t exactly have a lot of choice in the matter. Do as I say and get moving. Time’s a wasting.’

  ‘No,’ Alvina declared, refusing to budge before him. ‘You don’t get to do this alone. I’m coming with you.’

  Jack’s mouth fell open to deliver an outburst, but already Alvina was talking over him.

  ‘You don’t simply get to decide that you want to wander off, Jack! Not like this, not without consulting us all. I’ll back you up and we’ll do it together, clean house from top to bottom if need be. You don’t have the ammunition to keep yourself alive anyway.’

  ‘I can get to the armoury –’ Jack was brazenly cut off.

  ‘To hell with all that. I’ve spoken: I’m coming with you. The matter is sorted. Now no arguing and let’s go.’

  Grunting in annoyance, Jack relinquished, waving her over to him, but added, with wagging fingers, that only Alvina could accompany him. Not that this drew any complaints from Blake of course.

  ‘I’m fine with that. I don’t intend to get fucking killed here.’ He grunted in his predictably surly tone. ‘Come on, Little Fish, I want to get paid today.’

  * * *

  According to the schematics, the safe was situated in the middle of the third deck. To reach the safe room itself, Blakestone and Cole would need to pass the crew quarters, the idea of which conjured ideas of significant trouble. If any of the crew had been alarmed in regards to the Sanders Boys’ intrusion, it would make sense for the crew quarters to be occupied by workers on shift rotation who had been woken up ahead of schedule. Blake wasn’t entirely keen on having to pass by on account of this but a detour would have been time-consuming and time was one of the many things not on their side.

  There were two bodies between the deck and the crew area, both were frisked for anything of use and Blake pocketed the money from their wallets. Any objections were ignored as Blake dismissed that the victi
ms ‘didn’t need it any more’. Bad taste maybe, but Cole had to resign himself to the fact that Blake was correct in the matter.

  The Jackrabbits slinked along close to the walls, avoiding or ducking past windows and, as expected, resistance was stumbled upon. A rough-looking sentry patrolled past before doubling back. Blake and Cole ducked into a communal room, to avoid detection, waiting for the footsteps to pass the doorway.

  ‘Want to take this one?’ Blake offered to Cole with a mischievous grin. The kid could do with getting his hands a little dirty to join the rest of them. Nothing brought you down to earth more than killing a man. Cole went to reach for his knife but Blake beckoned his hand away. The sentry was a good foot and a half taller than Cole and much uglier on account of a rather nasty-looking scar. Cole had immediately recognized him from the altercation in the alleyway with Jackdaw. Brutus Sanders. He was big, mean and ugly with an additional measure of mean on top.

  ‘On second thoughts, I’ve got this,’ Blake stated.

  When the sound of boots passed the door, Blake kept his profile low and when administering the chokehold, his forearm was taut. Brutus’s heels squeaked on the floor as they kicked in struggle, but the massive bulk of Blake refused to relent, dragging the sentry away into the communal room.

  Cole watched the commotion, closing the door behind them to contain the noise. As Blake heartily struggled to send Brutus to sleep, clearly having underestimated the fight that would be put up, Cole swung the handle of his firearm against the side of Brutus’s temple with considerable force, sending the captive limp like a stringless puppet.

  ‘You were taking too long,’ Cole clarified, holstering the firearm.

  Upon noticing that there was no point holding Brutus further, Blakestone simply let him slide onto the floor in a heap. The Little Fish was really coming into his own.

  The crew quarters themselves were abandoned – or at least anyone living had left it. A number of bodies lay in their bunks, all bloodied, each seemingly stabbed in their sleep. Cole had to turn away, covering his mouth with a hand and feeling the onset of vomit. Alternatively, Blakestone seethed. The sheer cowardice of this rabble bit at his conscience. Doing someone in their bunk while asleep? It was the lowest thing one could do in their line of work. Blake promised he would punish every one of the Sanders Boys by getting some good old-fashioned killing done.

  Fortunately for all involved, the route to the safe was curiously clear. Blake had assumed it to be ransacked already or, at the least, protected, but crashing inside the room itself expecting trouble, the pair were almost disappointed. They had expected a safe. Not this.

  The room resembled nothing more than a high-class cabin for paying travellers. Pungent redwood panelling covered the walls and ceiling. Smoking table. Chest of drawers. A legion of books in a floor-to-ceiling case. Plump impeccable chesterfield chairs and matching sofas. No bed though.

  ‘I’m not seeing a safe, Little Fish. They normally have big doors and there’s nothing in here fitting that description.’

  ‘No, there’s not.’

  ‘I’m thinking either the plans were off or we’ve taken a wrong turn.’

  * * *

  Cole scanned the room, starting with the carpet. A bold royal red it may have been but it had seen better days, considering the traffic line worn in an almost diagonal line from one end to the other. His eye line rose to where the wear ended, at an ornate wooden bookcase. Feeling around its edges, Cole’s fingertips brushed at a slender, but significant gap.

  ‘It’s here all right,’ Cole stated. He scanned each shelf of books, skimming the covers in turn, the names blending into one another. It wasn’t the titles he was investigating though, but the placement of the books, their position, their sequence, picking out anything that may be irregular. Then Cole saw it.

  A wine-red copy of In Discovery of Lost Birds by Locke Seis. Curiously more handled than anything else, it stood out on the shelf. Its spine was just out of placement, looking all wrong. That and Cole was familiar with Seis’s catalogue from a young age, knowing full well he had never written such a thing.

  He placed his fingers upon its spine and attempted to tilt it towards him, but the book did not budge, as if anchored in place. Instead he slid it parallel to him and while it resisted somewhat, the book relented, sliding outwards and hanging off the shelf. Cole slowly turned it sideways, every inch instigating a click from behind the shelf. With a clunk, the pins securing the bookcase in place lifted and the entire thing swung out effortlessly.

  Blake watched as the safe door revealed itself, gold-framed and more than a little imposing. The wedge of steel looked impenetrable. Taking it in from top to bottom, Blakestone cocked a smile, looking to the satchel fastened across Cole’s chest.

  ‘Still got that dynamite?’ he asked.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Taking control or taking leave

  There were two routes into the bridge of the Messiah. They each involved traversing the upper deck on approach, where, after a brief stair climb, both converged at the bridge itself. The problem was that one route was on one side of the ship – the other was opposite. The only thing in the way was the expansive gulf straight down that was used by the overhanging crane to load and unload cargo, if it was too large for the rear doors.

  This proved to be a problem. Whilst a straight-line approach was preferable, it meant that any security wouldn’t have a problem witnessing the Jackrabbits’ approach.

  Jack and Alvina made haste with little time to take in the splendid view of the Dead Corridor, nor the stars that had broken free of their daily shackles. What they did have time for, was to witness the lights of the Morning Star on the ridge, its occupants keeping their word. Now all that was needed was for Jack’s commotion to pull attention from Blakestone and Cole, though he was quite unaware they had reached the safe with little difficulty. If he stopped for a moment, he might have even felt tremors as the dynamite was detonated, taking the safe door from its hinges.

  Surprisingly there was little by way of resistance. A ship this large meant that the Sanders Boys must be stretched thin, seeing that they had to search deck by deck when taking control. A single one patrolled the width of the deck, acting as lookout for any attempts at regaining control of the Messiah. He strode along with shotgun in hand, waiting for trouble to rear itself. Alvina kept herself low whilst keeping her rifle crosshairs trained upon him, just in case Jack, who crawled behind silently, was spotted. Jack shimmied himself along and behind the sentry. Inhaling, Jack leapt upon the man from behind with such force, he took his target down to the floor, face first.

  To ensure the job was done properly, Jack had driven the Pendulum’s blade deep into the sentry’s kidney, then had sharply withdrawn it at an angle to ensure a bleed-out. The member of the Sanders family convulsed whilst Jack retained his weight upon him, trapping him from making noise or movement. Eventually, the shuddering stopped. Jackdaw released the sentry and gave a thumbs-up, which allowed Alvina to breathe easily. Lowering the weapon, she made her way over to formulate the last steps of the plan.

  Jackdaw fleeced the corpse for anything of use. For a brief moment Jack felt a volley of guilt strike him in the gut, where he wondered if this man had dependents. A wife. A child. For all Jack knew this was a straight-up guy, a good provider and a gentleman, just dragged along to this mess due to family responsibility.

  And now he lay here. Dead. By Jack’s own hand no less.

  The moment passed, as all moments do, with nothing lingering. As long as Jack kept his mind on the job it’d all turn out swell. At least that’s what he told himself. Now it was time to bring it all to a close.

  Alvina scouted the area down her scope, stabilizing it on a railing. Attempting to count the figures that she could see through the bridge’s large stern-facing window proved difficult. Heads bobbed past, making counting a tricky undertaking.

  ‘I’m counting at least five in there, but it’s proving tough. Are you really s
ure you want to go through with this?’ Alvina knew full well that questioning the man in charge was a downright stupid idea, but today was full of stupid things – one more wasn’t going to hurt.

  ‘I’ll go in by myself to have a chat with Derek on my lonesome. I’ve got a feeling he’ll be a mite skittish knowing that we’re on board. I want you to hold back and take care of any stragglers that may try and come up from behind. Do a sweep. I don’t like surprises. I don’t like these idiots running around unchecked neither. The combination of both makes me very unhappy.’

  ‘I’ll scout first then set myself somewhere. I’ll do what I can to keep troublemakers at bay.’

  ‘You do that.’

  As Jack went to move into position, Alvina interrupted him with a stumble of words. When he paused, her attempts to rearrange them were just as clumsy.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Alvina conceded.

  ‘No it’s not. But thanks. You too,’ Jack added before setting back on his way. ‘And don’t let me down.’

  The bridge was a large affair, with glass providing dizzying panoramic views of the Messiah’s bow and surroundings. Inside was an array of levers, valves and numerous other devices laid out for the captain and crew’s control. In the middle was a column with a large steering wheel, with multiple wooden bulbs protruding from its circumference. Various pipes ran across the rear walls, all possessing valves, pressure gauges and the like, but each varying in thickness. Nearby were reams of charts and maps, each rolled out with drawing instruments for navigation, set aside on their own workspace, away from the controls. A section of glass from behind allowed the crew to look down into the cargo hold, a view which, when taken, was dizzyingly high.

  It was here where Derek Sanders congregated with the rest of his ilk. He had taken the helm, his hands placed upon the wheel to no doubt relish the sense of power it administered. After all, steering a vehicle the size of a factory was something few could boast about. Dotted around were other members of the horrid family. They each worked at their posts as needed, with Derek occasionally voicing an order.