by Sean Kennedy
“I’ve never asked her job description. I know she has some philanthropic endeavors. Which apparently means she has to mingle with society and government.” Her emphasis on both words told Ezra exactly what she thought of both; she knew his opinion wasn’t that different.
But he whistled in response. “That’s fancy. Anything else?”
It was almost too easy; the opportunity had just thrown itself into her lap. “I know she’s seeking to start up her own businesses, or get involved in helping other people start up businesses she is interested in.”
If she had been hoping to lead him into this gently, she had shown her hand far too early. “Really?” he asked suspiciously.
“Really.” She nodded, oh-so-casually and just as transparently.
“And what kind of businesses?” Ezra pushed.
“Oh, she never really said.”
“Uh huh.”
“Don’t give me that tone,” Jazz said irritably.
“I have no tone,” Ezra said. With a tone.
It was moments like these that Jazz really wanted to pop one loose and smack him across what she often called his “gormless” face. “She just wants to help us.”
“I don’t need her help.”
“Are you suddenly sitting on a vault of coins I don’t know about?” Jazz sneered. “Did some kindly bachelor uncle die and bequeath you his millions? Where are we going to get the dosh to start reproducing the Lilliput on a mass scale?”
Ezra reached into his coat, and pulled out his lek-book. “This!”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I think that’s already on the market.”
Ezra ignored her, and turned back to the mini-cons. He attached the lek-book to the mainframe and pulled out the choke that started the projector.
Jazz winced at the amount of static in the picture that made the text almost illegible. “Maybe you should upgrade to the Lek-book ’97.”
Ezra grunted. “And then they’ll probably bring out the Lek-book ’00. Why bother?”
“Because I like to see what I’m meant to be looking at.”
“It’s the latest newslink. Icarus is the main story again. Apparently he’s been sighted in the Waulkham Hills.”
“Have you been to the Waulkham Hills? They’re mesas, Kneebone. It would be like looking for a virgin in Whiskeytown.”
He stiffened slightly at the mention of Whiskeytown, but then shook it off. “This is our chance at starting the business—”
“We already have an offer—”
“I’m not going to be Lady Bart’s charity case!”
Jazz couldn’t contain herself any longer. In a fury, she stood up and kicked over the chair she had been sitting in. “Dammit, Kneebone! Do you know how many people are going to be flooding those hills now, looking for Icarus? In larger, more advanced, machines that will hold teams of people they can use to find him? Do you really think that the two of us, in the Lilliput, can beat them to him?”
“We have something they don’t have,” Ezra said infuriatingly.
“What?”
Ezra pulled a cigar out of his pocket, took his time lighting it, and then grinned at her through a haze of smoke. “Size and speed. And chutzpah.”
She almost laughed, but stopped herself. How easily he could make her hate him and be charmed by him in the space of a minute! “That’s three things. And chutzpah isn’t paying my bills.”
“Well, lucky you’re not as proud with Lady Bart as I am.”
She could feel her face burn.
Luckily, even Ezra was smart enough to tell he had crossed a line. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “That was cruel of me.”
“Then make it up to me. Take her offer. We need this!”
“I can’t. I won’t be beholden to any other person.”
“You can take your beholden and put it where the sun refuses to shine.”
“We can do this, Jazz,” Ezra implored. “Trust me.”
“Trust you?” she spat. “That’s a fairytale that shouldn’t be told to any fool.”
“I have a good feeling about this.”
Good feeling. The man was a lunatic! Jazz turned to storm off, then remembered the chair she had displaced, righted it, shot Ezra one last scornful look, and went to work upon the Lilliput, knowing that at least it wouldn’t talk back to her. Sure, it might stall occasionally or cause her grief, but it was still easier to deal with than a man.
EZRA watched her go, and let his cocky grin fall.
Part of him wanted to tell her that, yes, he would love to fall upon Lady Bart’s good graces and allow her to bear the financial brunt of their set-up. But he had never been wired that way. Everything he stood to profit from had to come to him on his own merits. And sweat, and tears. Not because someone had taken pity on him. It didn’t matter if Lady Bart saw it simply as another business transaction—when you were the man in debt to someone else, it was never that simple. How could you look at yourself in the mirror each morning if you weren’t pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps?
He puffed on his cigar for comfort, but even it tasted bitter.
The static of the projector hissed, and in frustration, he punched the surface of the mini-cons. The pictogram of the bird-like Icarus winked out.
Perfect.
Ezra called it back up, hoping it would work and he hadn’t destroyed something else in a fit of temper. Luckily, it did. He pushed the image to one side, to allow the cons to pull up the terrain of the Waulkham Hills. He studied the topography and realized just how correct Jazz had been. The land was tough, and expansive.
He hit the speaker button on his wrist strap. “Jazz?”
“What?” She didn’t sound very happy to hear from him so soon.
“Prepare the Lilliput for a long haul. We’re going to the hills.”
He signed off before he could hear her vehement, and probably cuss-filled, response. And then he smiled his first real smile for the day. “You’re mine, Icarus.”
Chapter 6
“I AM sorry, my love. He didn’t go for it.”
“That ignorant little cow-herder,” Lady Bart hissed over the speaker on Jazille’s wrist. “I have a good mind to come down there myself and slap him silly.”
Jazille grinned. “You have no idea how much I’d like to see that.”
“I’m on my way.”
Jazille looked up at the belly of the Lilliput, which was hanging above her, close enough to touch its skin. “Then I’m sorry again. Because we’re shipping out.”
“Again?”
“Icarus has been spotted in the Waulkham Hills. Kneebone’s insisting we go there straightaway.”
“That man,” Bart said furiously. “When will I see you next?”
“When the fates allow.”
“Damn the fates. And damn Ezra Kneebone and his pride. Travel safely.”
“I will.”
They exchanged endearments and signed off. Jazz kicked at the primary rope holding the Lilliput down and wished, just for a moment, that it would float away so she could find herself back in Bart’s arms once more.
EZRA entered the hangar that housed the Lilliput and smiled to himself. He couldn’t help but grin every time he beheld the strange beauty that was his ship. It was a mixture of old and new technologies with a balloon that helped keep the ship aloft with a steady pumping of steam and helium, and maneuverability was aided by propellers that sat toward the back of the craft. The engine Jazz had built was half the size of those used by larger dirigibles, and this greatly reduced the size of the body and the hull. As he ran his hand over the bronzed surface on his way to the cockpit, Ezra mused to himself that soon they would probably find ways to build smaller engines, and therefore increase cargo space.
He jogged up the ramp and entered the pit. The controls gleamed, as if Jazz had just cleaned them. She probably had; her own rooms were a mess, but she was houseproud on the Lilliput. “You ready, Jazz?”
She pulled her goggles over her eyes. When t
hey were covered, she looked even more furious with him. Her lips were so thin with displeasure she almost looked mouthless. “Yeah, ready.”
Wishing he could soothe her mood, but doubting he could do anything, Ezra decided to act blithely unaware. He began to punch the coordinates into the comms system. “Systems check?”
“Done and dusted.”
“The scent for adventure?”
Once again, the black goggles viewed him dispassionately. “My sinuses are clogged.”
“That’s the spirit!” Ezra said blithely, ignoring her.
Jazille activated the hangar roof to open, and the cockpit was bathed in fresh sunlight. She pulled on the throttle, and the Lilliput launched itself into the sky.
NOW that they were far away from Shrevesport, and clear blue skies were ahead, Jazz turned to face him, having fed in a flight chart to the comms. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” Ezra asked innocently.
“Yes. Are we just going to fly around haphazardly, hoping that Icarus will see fit to bump into us and fall unconscious into our cockpit? Or do you actually have some method devised for ferreting him out and taking him captive?”
“Oh, ye of little faith. Of course I have a plan.” And with that, Ezra fell silent.
Jazille waited a few impatient seconds, and asked, “Well?”
“Oh, you want to know?” Ezra asked maddeningly. He paled when Jazz looked like she was about to pull out her pistol and cold-cock him with it. “Let’s just say I have a contact in the hills.”
She shook her head. “Do I even want to know?”
CORNELIUS MACE flew across the room and crashed onto a table, which broke beneath him. He lay in the dust and laughed maniacally as Ezra straddled him, his fist at the ready. The other patrons of the bar stood immediately, itching for a fight, but Ezra waved them back with a menacing look in his eye.
Unperturbed, Cornelius grinned from beneath him. “You remember I like it rough, Ezra.”
“I’m not here to play,” Ezra threatened.
“That’s a shame,” Cornelius murmured. “I also remember how you liked to play.”
Jazz stood beside Ezra and rolled her eyes. “Just pop him another one, Kneebone.”
Cornelius’s eyes widened. “You haven’t gotten yourself a girlfriend, have you?”
Both Jazz and Ezra snorted in unison.
Cornelius blew a strand of hair out of his face. “At least things haven’t changed that much. Time was, we used to be friends, Ezra.”
“That was before you stabbed me in the back in Littlepond,” Ezra retorted. “Literally.”
“I made sure not to aim for any major veins.”
Ezra’s fist punched down, crunching into the bone of Cornelius’s nose. Cornelius howled in pain, and blood arced out. Jazz jumped back as blood spattered at her feet.
‘What do you want?” Cornelius screamed.
“What do you know about Icarus?”
Cornelius’s brow furrowed in confusion. “That namby-pamby? What do you want with him?”
Ezra didn’t want to put him on the scent of a possible reward if he hadn’t already heard of it. The last thing they needed was yet another man seeking quick riches trying to steal their quarry. “He owes us money.”
Cornelius hocked up some of the blood pooling in his throat and spat it out with disgust. “He’s naught between hay and grass, and his views on money show that. He has no money to give you and what he does get, when he steals it, he gives it away.”
Ezra and Jazz exchanged looks.
“Gives it away?” Jazz asked of Mace.
Cornelius raised his hands in defeat. “As much as I’m used to being on my back around you, Ezra, will you let me sit up like a civilized man?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Jazz said.
Ezra gave Cornelius a wink. “Not around the womenfolk.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Cornelius said.
Jazz looked as if she wanted to throttle them both. “Gives it away?” she repeated, all business.
Cornelius led them to another table, this one unbroken. “Sit, sit.” They did so, Ezra making sure he seated himself between Jazz and Cornelius as he called for a round of drinks; everybody else in the bar who had been watching them returned to their own, most likely disappointed that a murder wasn’t about to take place in their company.
“He hasn’t been here long,” he continued, taking a long draft of his ale. “He basically flew out of the sky one day and started giving out cash by the handful. Said to take it while we could, because he would be gone soon enough. And people took him at his word. When they got too eager, he just opened those giant wings of his and flew away again.”
“You’re telling me he actually has wings?” Ezra asked in disbelief.
Cornelius waved away his skepticism lazily. “They’re not growing out of his back, if that’s what you’re getting at. He obviously built them.”
“But they support him?”
“As if his mother was a bird. You’ve seen the pictures of him flying, ain’t you?”
“Where’s he getting the money from?” Jazz asked.
“Not entirely sure, but some folk have their suspicions.”
Ezra waited for him to speak, but Cornelius only took a healthy swig of his ale, unselfconsciously smacked his lips, and licked them free of froth. “Well?”
Cornelius shrugged. “You always got to follow the money. Who is putting up the reward?”
Cornelius was all business now, and Ezra could have kicked himself for falling for his act of pleading ignorance before.
“The government,” Jazz said.
Cornelius tapped the side of his nose. “And why would they care?”
“Because it’s their money.”
“Exactly. They’re not going to care if old Cornelius Mace is getting robbed by some half-bird, half-man… but when it’s their own coffers that’s being raided, they pull out all the stops.”
“He must have a reason for doing so,” Jazz muttered, and Ezra turned to glare at her. “What?”
Ezra ignored her. “How is he getting the money?”
Cornelius shrugged. “I don’t know. Why you so interested, anyway?”
“Because,” Ezra said, with a tip of his hat, “I always follow the money.”
Jazz snorted derisively and stood. “I’m going to get another drink.”
“Make that two,” Ezra told her.
“Get your own!” she fired back as she headed to the bar.
Cornelius watched her. More like ogled her.
“Hey!” Ezra reprimanded him.
Cornelius flashed him a seductive grin. “Jealous?”
“Water under the bridge.”
“You know the thing about water under the bridge?” Cornelius asked. “It keeps going on.”
Ezra downed the last of his ale. “Yeah, out to sea. You and me, we’re out to sea, Cornelius.”
“Come on. You’ve been giving me the eye since you threw me down on that table.”
Damn, Ezra thought he had hidden that. Seeing Cornelius again was easy on the eyes, but Ezra was still burning from the betrayal that had happened between them last time they’d seen each other. A rough tumble in the sack wouldn’t help with that. “You should get your eyes checked, then.”
Cornelius leaned in closely, his breath surprisingly sweet. “It’s not nice to get a man all standing up at attention and not relieve him. Come back to my room, Ezra.”
“Maybe some other time,” Ezra said, not wanting to get the other man’s hopes up, but also leaving himself an option in case he didn’t want to make a liar out of himself.
“You’re a cruel man.”
“Just being sensible—”
He didn’t get any further. Rough, once-familiar lips worked against his furiously, and against his better senses, Ezra parted his lips to allow Cornelius’s tongue to roughhouse with his. He was now standing at attention as well, his pecker painfully brushing against his zipper. He felt Cor
nelius’s hand upon his thigh, and, daringly, the other man slid it further. Ezra’s body reacted of its own free will, and he thrust himself into the other man’s palm, letting it rest against his fully clothed member.
Cornelius chuckled warmly into his mouth before pulling away. He stood and looked at Ezra with affection, winked at him, and became a shadow as he walked into the bright sunshine beyond the saloon’s doors, singing to himself a snatch of the song now becoming popular amongst the residents of Waulkham Hills:
“Icarus!
Man of the people!
Watch him soar in the sky!
Icarus!
Laden with money!
Soon he’ll be here by and by!”
Jazz frowned. “Even I could write something better than that.”
Ezra wanted to run after Cornelius and take him up on his offer, but he remained frozen until a smirking Jazz sat back down beside him.
“That was quite a show. You’re lucky nobody else saw.”
“Keep your big bazoo shut,” he warned her, and for once, she didn’t say a word.
Chapter 7
JAZZ smirked as Ezra entered the cockpit and threw himself into his chair. “So, is that the way you treat all your exes?”
They were in the docks at Waulkham Hills Station, preparing for flight. Jazille’s fingers danced over the keys on the console as she checked all systems and alerted the station’s flight control of their departure. Ezra ignored her and checked that the pulley that controlled the ropes anchoring them to the station was ready to drop.
“How long ago were you involved, anyway?”
“Long enough ago.”
She grimaced at a blinking light on the panel and punched it. It disappeared. “Just asking a question.”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Just something Bart said.”
“And what exactly did Lady Bart say?”
“Nothing.”
“You can’t say something like that and then just drop it.”