Paladin's War

by Peter Greene

  “I will gladly loan you my yacht,” offered the viscount. “You can use it to look for survivors.”

  Sean and Hudson dropped to their knees in shock and sadness.

  “Oh,” cried Sean. “J-jonny. M-my brother—” He then collapsed in utter despair, sobbing uncontrollably.

  19

  Interrogation

  Delain could ascertain a few facts about her surroundings even though her mouth was gagged, her eyes blindfolded, and something was shoved in her ears, partially blocking out sound. She was in a basement. This she knew because she was jostled as her kidnapper stepped down a short flight of stairs. It was also warm, so they were probably in the basement of a building near a furnace warming the basement and rooms above.

  She also knew that two men had abducted her. She had heard their voices, and during the process of tying her to the chair she sat upon, she counted at least four hands on her, securing ropes.

  Never did they speak once inside, never did they remove the sack over her head that covered the upper half of her body. The gag in her mouth was not only slightly irritating, but it tasted like an old sock. She worked to spit it out of her mouth, but it was slow going.

  She was petrified. Again, she thought of Jonathan, and wished that somehow he could rescue her. Yes, that was an odd thought for Delain Dowdeswell, so sure of herself and her abilities; yet even for her, there were times when receiving even a little help was acceptable, and this was certainly one of those times.

  After what seemed to be an hour of sitting in this condition, the door opened. She could barely hear it, but the pressure changed in the room: it lightened. Then, the door closed again. She could hear muffled voices.

  “I came as fast as I could,” whispered a man with a deep voice. “Are you sure no one saw you?”

  “Aye, sir, we was as quiet and as quick as a bunny,” said another man with a softer voice.

  “And you have asked no questions?” asked the deep voice.

  “Not a one,” answered the third man, with a more raspy tone and manner.

  “Well, then,” said the deep voice, loudly enough that Delain could hear clearly. He moved behind her and grasped the sack. “Let us have a look at the mysterious spy!”

  The sack was instantly and violently pulled upward.

  “Mister O!” said the deep voice triumphantly.

  “O?” said Delain, spitting out the gag. “Who in the name of the king is Mister O?”

  The men were shocked, though Delain could not read their expressions as the sudden light from the furnace blinded her momentarily.

  “Who the ’ell are you?” said the closest man.

  “A girl!” said the raspy-voiced one. “I knew the load was too light! I thought ’e was a midget!”

  The deep-voiced man now walked from behind the bound subject to see for himself. Shock, surprise, bewilderment, and abject confusion all flooded his senses at the same time.

  “Now, as I have said once before, I have seen everything in this life!”

  Delain’s eyes finally focused, though it was unnecessary for her to see who said these words. She had heard them before, and she instantly knew who had captured her.

  “Captain Gorman!” she said, relieved.

  “Delain Dowdeswell!” he said, still beside himself with confusion.

  “You know her?” asked Frey.

  “This isn’t Mister O,” said Fairchild.

  “I know that!” exploded Gorman. “Why did you grab her?”

  “We didn’t know it was a her, Captain!” said Frey. “We thought she was a he, all cloaked up ’n skulking around.”

  “We were watchin’ the alley be’ind the pub,” said Fairchild, “’cause the last time we followed Mister O, that’s where he went with Lupien.”

  “Is Mister O the Black Rider?” asked Delain.

  “Black Rider?” asked Gorman as he removed the wax plugs that had been placed in her ears. Delain looked at it, and gasped.

  “Ee-yew! What is that?”

  “We’re doin’ the askin’ here, missy!” said Frey.

  “And ya had best answer us truthfully, ya hear?” added Fairchild.

  “I do not think so!” said Delain. “You have kidnapped a daughter of a member of the House of Lords, and you will—”

  “Enough!” said Gorman. “Everyone be quiet! I will ask all the questions, and all of you will answer! Is that understood?”

  “Why did you kidnap me?” asked Delain angrily.

  Gorman was beside himself. “What did I just say? No one talks but me!”

  “If we can’t talk,” said Delain, “how can we answer your—”

  Gorman reached in his pocket and drew a long knife.

  “I swear! The next one who speaks out of turn will regret it!”

  They all became silent. Gorman approached Delain with the knife purely visible. She saw the blade and was suddenly confused and scared.

  Gorman regarded her, anger plainly visible on his face. Then he used the long knife—to cut the bonds about Delain’s wrists and feet.

  “Bring Miss Dowdeswell a glass of water immediately,” commanded Gorman.

  Delain was relieved, as were Frey and Fairchild, who both complied and soon returned with the glass for the young girl.

  “Delain,” began Gorman, “does Lady Bracknell know you are not at home?”

  “Of course not!” she snapped, insulted by the suggestion. “I was careful to sneak out unnoticed. Do you think I am some rank amateur?”

  “Why are you here?” Gorman asked.

  Delain took a drink of water from the glass. It felt good going down and had a calming effect. Now out of danger, she had a chance to think. Certainly, she and Gorman were investigating the same events, though from different sides. It was surely time to join forces and see what each network had uncovered.

  “I was following the Black Rider,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “And who would that be?” said Gorman.

  “I don’t know his name; however,” started Delain, “it all began last Wednesday, as I was on my way to tea at the home of Lord and Lady Wilder with Miss Thompson. Whilst still in the carriage, I saw a man in all black riding a black stallion through Van Patten Wood. He was being pursued by two men on horseback. It was exciting to watch, especially when he gave them the slip—easily enough, I might add.”

  Frey and Fairchild looked at each other, frowning.

  “The pursuers,” said Gorman with a sigh, “were none other than your kidnappers, Mister Frey and Mister Fairchild, my associates.”

  “At your service,” both men said, bowing their heads in embarrassment.

  “They were tailing this Black Rider of yours, known to us as Mister O,” said Gorman. “Do you have any idea why he was in the woods?”

  “His business was not in the woods,” said Delain. “However, I saw him emerge from the thicket after I arrived at the Wilders’ estate. He slipped into the house through a back door, so I left the carriage and went to investigate. Through the library window, I watched him place a package in the shelves of books. Later, I discovered it was a bag containing two handwritten notes and exactly five thousand pounds sterling.”

  Frey and Fairchild each let out a low whistle.

  Gorman looked surprised. “I hate to ask this, Miss Dowdeswell, because I am sure I will not like the answer; however…how do you know what was in the bag?”

  Delain smiled with satisfaction.

  “I looked!” she said.

  “Dear me,” said Gorman.

  “Let me start at the beginning of the tea party,” Delain began.

  “Always good to start at the beginnin’” said Frey.

  “After an hour of the tea, I affected illness!” she continued, now directing the story to Frey and Fairchild, who listened, completely captivated. “And once I was led to a guest room to recover, I slipped out and made my way to the library. Behind a book that had been disturbed, in the otherwise neat and orderly row, I found a bag. I open
ed it. Inside, I saw and counted the money. There were also two notes. One note had today’s date on it and the time of three a.m. That is how I knew to follow him! So earlier this evening, I left the Bracknell Manor, took a horse, and rode through Van Patten Wood. I stood in the shadows of the trees about the Wilder Mansion, and waited.”

  She paused for effect. Frey and Fairchild were standing, eyes open wide, anticipating the next part of the plot.

  “G’won!” said Frey.

  “What’s next?” asked Fairchild.

  “Dear, dear, dear…” said Gorman, shaking his head.

  “Lord Wilder emerged from his house by the back door, wearing a dark cloak and hood,” said Delain. “He hid in a tree shadow not twenty feet from me! Then I saw him enter a carriage that appeared right in front of his home. I followed on my filly.”

  Gorman held his head in his hands. “The other note, then. You said there were two.”

  “The other note was longer—a letter, really. At first I thought it was in a code of some sort,” stated Delain. “So, not wanting to steal it and alert Lord Wilder that I was on to him, I copied it! I had it translated by my professor. It was in Russian.”

  “Russian?” asked Frey.

  “Lupien is Russian!” added Fairchild.

  “Who is Lupien?” asked Delain.

  “He is a Russian spy we have been watching. Let me see the letter, if you please,” asked Gorman.

  Delain frowned and thought that, surely, once Gorman had all the pieces to his puzzle, he would cut her out of the investigation—possibly even inform Lady Bracknell to keep Delain under house arrest or some such thing. That would be totally unfair. How can I keep myself in this plot? A deal? Yes!

  “I will show you the note, if…you allow me to continue my investigation.”

  “No,” said Gorman. “Out of the question.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes,” said Delain firmly.

  “No!” said Gorman, more firmly.

  “Then I won’t tell you what the second letter said.”

  Gorman knew that the young girl had a point. He would have to figure out a way for Delain to be involved with the investigation but never be in danger. At least creating a plan with her would give him some control over what she would be doing. He could then possibly keep her safe.

  “All right,” he said reluctantly.

  “And you are a man of your word?” she asked.

  “As far as you are concerned, yes,” said Gorman.

  “Then here is the note,” she said, retrieving it from the folds in her cloak.

  Gorman studied the original note, then read the translation. Art? Odd. Here were numbers: eighteen, thirty-six. Gorman handed the letter to Fairchild. Then he stood and began pacing. He seemed to be trying to put two and two together, but there was something missing.

  “Let us review what we know,” he said. “First, there is a Russian spy, Lupien, whom we have seen about the docks. Second, Lupien had a book with ship names in it, listing their armaments, sizes, et cetera. Mildly interesting by itself; however, three, we have witnessed Lupien associating with this horseman of yours.”

  “Mister O,” said Frey, attempting to keep things clear in his own head.

  “Four, Wilder is dealing in art, it appears, and five, Mister O is associating with Lord Wilder on the matter, in the middle of the night, and is paying him great sums of money. And since Lupien is a spy, and Mister O seems to be a spy—”

  “Then Wilder is up to no good!” said Delain triumphantly. “I knew it!”

  “But what ‘no good’ is ’e up to?” asked Fairchild.

  “That is where, I believe, we are missing some information. Art dealing is not a crime, though it is suspicious that he would be discussing it at three in the morning in a private carriage.”

  “With a spy,” added Delain.

  The room fell silent. Only the crackling of the wood in the furnace interrupted their thoughts. Delain stood, rubbing her wrists where they had been bound. Frey and Fairchild stood looking at the ceiling and then the floor, deep in thought.

  Gorman ran over the facts in his head, over and over, and eventually began murmuring them out loud.

  “Lupien. Wilder. Mister O. A book of ship names. Money. Russian notes about art.”

  “Art,” said Delain. “That tidbit is the odd one.”

  Gorman took the letter from Frey, who had now finished reading and inspected it once again.

  “Eighteen pieces…thirty-six pieces…” he said.

  Then it hit him, like a ball from a gun—a gun aboard one of His Majesty’s…

  “Ships!” he exclaimed.

  “Ships?” asked Fairchild.

  “The letter!” said Gorman excitedly. “It is both written in Russian and in code! The art is ships, and the numbers, eighteen and thirty-six—are guns!”

  “They are planning to steal ships,” said Delain, worried.

  “And Lupien’s book is the shopping list!” added Gorman.

  “All o’ the ships ’e had documented were thirty-six guns or smaller,” said Frey.

  “That means their targets will be schooners ’n sloops,” added Fairchild, “the size of the Paladin and the Echo, for example.”

  “At least the Paladin is safe,” she said. “The Echo as well.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Gorman.

  “I received a letter from Jonathan only a day ago,” she said. “He has seen the Echo.”

  Gorman looked at the girl with a questioning frown. He thought of his meeting with Slater, who reported that the Echo was missing and that no one had seen her. He let out an audible gasp.

  “Delain,” said Gorman carefully, “what did Jonathan say about the Echo?”

  “He said they saw her,” said Delain.

  “Are you sure? The Echo?”

  “Why, yes,” continued Delain. “It was peculiar, he said, that the new captain, a Captain Andrews, I believe, was unknown to him. The Echo was handled poorly. Jonathan said it was no match for the military precision of the Paladin and her crew.”

  Gorman ran to her and held her tightly by the shoulders.

  “Delain! When was this letter written?” Gorman asked in a frantic voice.

  “The seventh of this month!” she said, now afraid.

  “Where was he when he saw the Echo? Did he say?”

  “I’m not sure, I—”

  “Quickly, Delain! Think!” Gorman shook the girl, hoping to aid her concentration.

  “Near Gibraltar, but the Paladin was headed toward some other place. It was called…Tesla…Telass—”

  “Telašćica?” suggested Fairchild.

  “Yes!” Delain said. “Telašćica!”

  “Delain, the Echo is missing. It never reported to Gibraltar Station. It is now weeks overdue,” said Gorman, “and her captain, according to the Admiralty, is Lieutenant Joshua Gray.”

  “But how can that be?” asked Delain. “How could the Echo have a captain other than Gray, and the Admiralty be unaware? And how can she be missing if Jonathan has just seen—oh my lord!” she exclaimed. “She has already been taken!”

  “It appears so,” said Gorman, now releasing the girl. “It is the only explanation. The crew of the Paladin must have seen the Echo and believed the story of a new captain being assigned. Obviously, this Andrews from Jonathan’s letter must be an imposter. He is posing as an English captain.”

  “Why? Why steal an English ship and then approach another English ship? Why not just run away?” asked Delain.

  “Because, they want to get as close to the Paladin as they can, keeping her unaware—”

  “So they could steal her as well! Oh! Jonathan! My friends!” said Delain, immediately almost breaking into tears. “What are we to do?”

  The men tried to calm the young girl, however, she carried on for some time. She thought of her last few moments with Jonathan, and of all the things she wished to say to him. She regretted not telling him
exactly how she felt and what her dreams might be. Would she ever see him again?

  After a while, she ceased sobbing and simply asked, “What are we to do?”

  “Our plan must be this,” said Gorman finally and firmly. “We must confirm our suspicions. At this point it is all circumstantial. Wilder is certainly at the center of this. Gentlemen? Get me Lord Wilder. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care if you damage him. I don’t care what your methods. Just don’t let him know who we are until we reveal ourselves. Bring him here.”

  “How?” asked Frey.

  “Delain, assist them by devising another note, identical to the one you have seen, telling him to be ready for a meeting in the carriage on this Thursday night. Place it on his person somehow. I am sure you can find a way to deliver it and ensure he reads it?”

  “I will think of something,” she said with conviction.

  “I will see Captain Spears first thing in the morning,” continued Gorman. “I will get some answers from him, and ascertain who this Andrews character is and what he knows about Wilder and his plans.”

  They all stood to leave, Frey and Fairchild donning their hoods and stepping into the alley, checking to make sure all was clear. It was only an hour before sunrise, the air still chill, the neighborhood quiet. Delain and Gorman received the all clear and exited the building. Delain turned to Gorman and held his arm firmly.

  “We must not fail them,” she said—a question more than a statement.

  “We will not, Miss Dowdeswell,” said Gorman. “And we do have one advantage they did not think of nor plan for.”

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Jonathan Moore is on the Paladin. And he will not go quietly.”

  Delain smiled, and they disappeared into the night.

  20

  Flotsam and Jetsam

  Captain Harrison had graciously accepted Viscount Ragusa’s offer to use his private yacht, the Kérata Vátrachos, in an attempt to search for survivors. Along with Marine Sergeant Hudson, Corporal Hicks, and Private Sean Flagon, Harrison left the Villa Ragusa immediately, and met with the rest of their party in town. The others had been sent ahead to look for witnesses and uncover any details of the attacks as seen from shore. Luckily for all, they also located Stewie, sitting on a post of the pier, a small pelican by his side, each fighting for a piece of some dead fish—mostly bones and scales, though for them, a delicacy.