Page 49 of Company of Thieves
“That was far too easy,” I said softly, hurrying down the gangway toward the rear of the ship, secure in the knowledge that the attention would be focused on the front, where the cargo doors were located. During a discussion with dear, gullible Armand, I’d discovered the location of the emergency hatch, the doors cut into the bottom of the gondola where the crew could parachute to earth if the airship was too damaged to fly.
I ran down two flights of rear stairs, pausing when a crewman rushed ahead of me, a coil of mooring rope on his shoulders. I counted to five, then dashed across the broad lower-level gangway, and into a small storeroom, quickly pulling up the ring that swung up the trapdoor.
The airship was dropping quickly to the ground, the forward thrust disabled, as steam was let out of the envelope.
I swung my legs out, trying to steel myself to jump, knowing if I waited too long, the exit would be blocked when the gondola settled on the ground.
“One, two, dear god don’t let me break a leg, three!” I leaped, hitting the ground hard, trying to immediately roll onto my shoulder like I’d seen my ex-husband do when he attended skydiving school. The impact knocked my breath out of my lungs, but I hurriedly scrambled out of the way just as the gondola settled with a soft whoosh.
We were outside one of the gray warehouses, a few men sitting on wooden crates, pipes in mouth, observing the proceedings while the crew scurried around to use mooring lines to drag the airship into the warehouse.
I didn’t wait to watch; I trotted off in a manner that I hoped wouldn’t attract attention from any onlookers.
“Now what?” I asked myself when I felt sufficiently distant from the warehouse. I had a moment of panic at the idea of being alone in a city with no resources or help, but managed to lecture myself into a moderately calm state. “Alan wouldn’t have a hissy fit. He’d figure out where he was, and make his way out to where theEnterpriseparks when it’s in town. What Alan can do, I can do.”
My words sounded a lot braver than I felt, but by the time two hours had passed, and I’d made it out to a field west of Marseilles, I was feeling a lot more confident. The farm where Octavia parked the airship was isolated, and evidently owned by some people who knew her foster parents.
“That’s it.” I pointed when the man whose cab I hired told me there was no such farm in the area, and insisted on turning his horse and returning to town. “To the left. See the barn? And beyond it, in those trees, you can just see the glimmer of silver on black. That’s theEnterprise. Thank god they came early. They weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. Can you hurry, please? I’ve had a very long day, a long week, actually, and I really want to see a friendly face. Not that you haven’t been kindness personified, but I am paying you after all, and that kind of makes the friendliness de rigueur, you know?”
Since I was speaking the last few sentences in English, the man said nothing, just sucked his teeth, and obligingly stopped at the entrance of the farm. I paid him from the small reserves I had left, thanked him, and, with a sudden lightness of spirit that gave my feet wings, dashed toward the copse of trees that mostly hid theEnterprise.
No one came out to greet me as I panted my way to the cargo doors. “I ... dude, seriously ... hello ... have got to get into some exercise regime. Hello?”
I tried to open the door, but it was bolted on the inside. I stood for a minute, my hands on my knees, then walked around to where a side door led into the boiler room. It, also, was locked, and no one answered when I banged on it.
I sat with my back to a tree, resigned to the fact that the fabulous homecoming that I’d imagined for a whole week was now seriously anticlimactic.
And that’s where they found me. It was the volatile Mr. Francisco who saw me first, his voice penetrating the sleep into which I’d fallen.
“Huh?” I asked, blinking at the man who stood next to me, his body twisting to call behind himself, “Mon capitaineof the glorious flaming hair so sweet! It is the lady Allie! She is dead, here against the tree.”
“What?” I heard a male voice shout. “Hallie is here? Dead? I swear I will have that damned Moghul’s head on a platter—”
“Hrn? Mr. Francisco, will you stop thrusting your crotch at me?” I asked, leaning over sideways. He was prone to wearing very tight pants, ones that highlighted everything he’d been born with. “Jack, I’m not dead, no matter what this deranged Spaniard says, and stop threatening Akbar. Would you ... thank you.”
Mr. Francisco helped me to the feet, and almost immediately, I was enveloped in a bear hug, Jack’s voice murmuring in my ear. “Holy shit, Hal! How did you get here? Where’s Etienne? What happened to you? We saw Etienne’s ship come in, but there were too many of them for us to storm it. Are you OK? Did the bastard hurt you? Why aren’t you answering me? Dammit, woman, we’ve been worried sick about you!”
I laughed, looking up into Jack’s eyes, one brown, one green, giving him a hard hug before stepping back. “I’m not answering because you won’t stop talking. Octavia, you are a sight for sore eyes.” I gave her a hug, too, then went on to hug the rest of the crew, who had gathered around me, all of them asking questions and telling me of their plans to rescue me, until it was all a jumble of voices and I started to feel a bit dizzy.
“Are you all right?” Octavia asked when I weaved, quickly taking my arm. “Jack, stop telling her what you are going to do to Prince Akbar, and help her. I think she’s about to swoon.”
“It’s just the residual effect from the poison,” I told them, but allowed Jack to sling an arm around me and help me into the ship.
“Poison? Etienne tried to poison you?” Octavia asked, her voice shocked.
“That or they have really bad food, and it was food poisoning,” I said, accepting a cup of tea. We were all sitting around the table in the mess, everyone watching me with such looks of avidity that I suddenly wanted to curl up in bed and pull the blankets over my head.
“That’s likely.” Octavia made a face. “Etienne never was one for caring much about what he ate, and I imagine he subjects his crew to the same standards, or, rather, lack therein. Now, drink that tea, then you can tell us what happened.”
It took me the better part of an hour, but at last I told them how the imperator descended upon Alan, of the agreement with Etienne, and ultimately how I’d run into the Black Hand, and been nabbed.
Jack and Octavia exchanged several glances, none of which I could interpret.
“You’re safe now—that’s all that matters,” Jack said when I finished. “Although I reserve the right to beat the tar out of that Akbar. The nerve of him letting you get kidnapped.”
I didn’t want to talk about Alan to him. I hadn’t mentioned anything about our relationship, other than he was teaching me how to use various weapons, but Octavia cast me a couple of glances that, had I a better grasp on reading emotions, were probably quite telling.
We had dinner, and I was happy to at last have something that I wouldn’t be throwing up in the next two hours. We sat up late in the mess, long after the rest of the crew had gone to bed, talking about what they had been doing. Jack seemed loath to leave my side until I told him he was making me nervous by lurking over me.
