Her Majesty's Western Service (23 page)

“
Nice try, my friend. Now scream!”

The rope fell, Perry below it. He snarled a curse before the blackness hit.

Someone was holding three fingers in front of Perry's face. He blinked a couple more times, shook his head, and looked up.

“
How many fingers, Vice?” Rafferty's voice.

“
Three. What the hell's going on?”

T
he fingers became a fist.

“How many now, sir?”

“A fist. None.”

“
He's
probably
OK.”

“
Where's 4-106?” Perry sat up. They were just outside one of the half-underground shacks in the landing area. Bodies were stacked nearby, dead pirates by the look.

Ahle
was going down the stacks, still handcuffed, Vidkowski's pistol still pressed to her back. She seemed to be examining the corpses.

Perry raised an eyebrow at Swarovski.

“In shock, she is. That's all her crew. Her top ones were at the party. All the others were here. They’re dead now.”

Pirate scum or not; he had to admit,
he’d
be in complete shock if all his crew had been killed. For a moment, Perry almost felt sympathy for the pirate.

“You OK, sir?”
asked a man in a civilian suit with a sheriff's star on the lapel.

“
I should be fine. How long was I out?”

“
About half an hour, sir,” said Swarovski.

“
They got away. They got away with 4-106. But they killed
her
crew?”

An image of that broken-toothed man with the earring, cutting the rope.

“All of them,” Ahle snarled, whirling. “You took the
Adestria
back and they destroyed the
Aden
and they killed
all
my operating crew. Murdered them. With knives.”

“
You said you didn't know who,” Perry asked, still dazed.

Ahle
's wrists strained against the handcuffs. “It's not as though I can do anything now, but no! I don't have the faintest idea!”

Tall, broken-toothed man wi
th an earring. Who stole 4-106.

Perry got to his feet.

“Sheriff?”

“Undersheriff. Vice-Commodore?”

“Yes.”

“
Your other pirates are in custody. One of your officers has ordered a car for your group on the next train.”

“
You're not unhappy about our coming into your jurisdiction and making arrests without advance notice? For which I apologize, but there was no time.”

The undersheriff shrugged.
“It's work off our hands, mister. Besides, Mayor Quentin does what your governor says; we know where our bread's buttered. Crimes out of our jurisdiction, caught inside our jurisdiction, we're not making a fight over it.”

“Thank you, Undersheriff.”

“We have transport at your disposal whenever you and your men would care to get moving. I also have an ambulance for your wounded. If you need it for yourself?”

“God. How many did we lose?”

“One killed,” said Vescard. “Two of them wounded, badly. Those pressure-guns aren't nice to a human body.”

“
Do you know
who
it was?” The tall man with the earring. “Someone killed
her
crew to get 4-106. Who? Where? Why?”

“
Now my crew has been murdered,” Ahle said acidly, “and your ship has been stolen by the same unknown third party? Vice-Commodore Perry, don't you think you've accomplished what you came here for?”

Vidkowski jabbed the pirate in the back with his pistol.

“Not a chance in hell, lady.”

“
I don't know who it was that massacred your crew,” said Perry, “although for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I don't begin to know why they stole 4-106. But I know one thing,
Captain
Ahle?”

“
What's that?
Vice-Commodore
Perry?”

“
I might not have my ship, but I have the bitch who stole it. And she's going to hang.”

“
At least my men provided the accidental courtesy of giving my name,” Ahle hissed back. “Whoever stole your ship
again
never even gave that, did he?”

They'd timed it perfectly: the sun was rising behind them, the airship designated 4-106 and painted
Adestria
, as they floated over the perimeter lines and into Hugoton at eight thousand feet.

“
Nose camera, check,” Ferrer said. The kinematograph had pride of place on the bridge, pointed down and recording their flight over the installations. Every so-often Ferrer stuck a precisely-calibrated watch in front of the lens for a second or two.

“
Starboard camera reports check,” said McIlhan from the communications board. “Port reports check.”

“
Keep them rolling,” said Marko. He stood at the front of the bridge, not bothering to give Captain Caine much room to see. He knew the course, that was enough. “We're getting some
good
reconnaissance here. All the lines are sharper at dawn.”

“
Military headquarters is flashing us,” said McIlhan, looking through a scope.

“
What're they saying?”

“
Asking us to identify.”

The first thing they'd done, once airborne, had been to get rid of the dummy vanes.
The paint was still there, but – with the sun right behind them – that wouldn't even be too visible. 4-106's engineering was distinctive enough that it should have been identified easily. Probably had been.

“
Tell them 4-106,” said Marko. “That's us. Rienzi, take two men and man the aft pressure-guns.”

“
We can man the missiles, too,” said Captain Caine. “You gave us enough men, Mr. Marko.”

“
No. Our role is photography. Missiles only if required.”

“
You don't mind my asking, why you doing this detailed reconnaisance of the Hugoton Lease anyhow?” asked Caine.

Marko glared at him. It was a frightening look,
and the middle-aged captain withstood it for less than a second before turning away and apologizing.

“
Because I said to,” said Marko. “Now power us along, turn to port once we’re past the main installations and then cross those oil facilities. Then, into the Rockies.
Understood
?”

There had been an exchange of signals
– McIlhan saying that the airship had been recovered, claiming to be an Imperial crew, but damaged steering - but that had only lasted so long. After 4-106 had passed over the second large set of oil installations – the Hugoton Lease itself was
vast
, a two thousand square mile area that hopefully, at this mile-and-a-half of altitude they were getting most of the important parts of – they scrambled two scout-class airships to investigate.

“
Your behavior is not consistent with steering issues. Sure you are OK? Land immediately. Cut sacs if needed,” McIlhan reported.

“
Let them approach close.
Very
close,” Marko said. “Then blow them to hell.”

The scout-class captains were careless, or perhaps their airships were just shoddy in the first place. Heavy fire from Rienzi at the pressure-guns
– at four hundred yards’ range, where it could barely miss – destroyed the bridge of one and then the other, and more solid shot from the guns smashed the gondolas and wrecked the scout-classes' airworthiness. Four missiles finished the job, as more pressure-gun fire pounded into the scout-classes' engine rooms and gondolas.

Within a minute of the engagement starting, without their getting a shot off themselves, the scout-c
lass ships were on burning crash-courses toward the grass of central Hugoton.

“
Power us up, starboard and
move
,” Marko ordered the captain.

“
We got a destination?”

“
Happens that we have. For now, I want maximum speed. Those Imperial sons of bitches are going to scramble something serious next, and ready to take us. Do
you
want to be there when that happens?”

“
Fucking fuck,” said one of the hirelings. “We just fucking killed a pair of Imperials!”

Marko waved a finger
at Ferrer's kinematograph, which was still recording – in detailed color – everything visible from the nose of the airship, slowly panning back and forth across a ninety-degree arc.

“
Time they're done analyzing this into tacti-thingummy maps and using those,” Marko said, “whole
fuck
of a lot more Imperials are gonna die.”

“
You gonna kill someone, kill Feds,” said Captain Caine. “Imperials are just goons; Feds are the real jackbooters.”

Marko giggled.

“Oh, we're gonna kill us some Feds, too. Worse than kill `em; we're gonna
beat
`em!”

Fleming straightened up in his chair as tho
ugh he'd been hit by lightning.

“
Tall. Black dress. Broken teeth and a gold earring?” he repeated back to Perry. “Are you
sure
?”

“
Yes, sir. You know this man?”

“
Long, flowing moustache? Although he may have shaved it off.”

“
I think he had one, sir. And
he took 4-106 over Hugoton
?”

“
We have photographic confirmation. Shot down the ready flight of Thirty-Second Squadron, too. They thought he was
you
.”

“
I know, sir. I heard the full account of it from Vice Begley. Nine killed. He wasn't happy with me, either. Somehow he was convinced
I
did it until he heard the affidavits.”

Deputy
Director Ian Fleming leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

“
Oh, no,” he said. “Someone far more dangerous than you did it, Vice-Commodore. If you're correct. I thought he was
dead
!”

“
You know this man.”

“
Connery,” Fleming said to the aide, hovering in the background. “Three martinis, please. Stirred–”

“
Softly, sir. Yessir,” said Connery. Going over to the liquor cabinet. “Not shaken. Understood, sir.”

“
Thank you.”

Fleming was silent until the drinks had been prepared. When they were, he sipped his.

“Yes, Vice-Commodore. I know Theron Marko.”

“
Theron who?”

“
Theron Marko,” Fleming said slowly. “I thought he'd been killed in `58. It was on record that he'd been killed in `58.”

“
You sound as though you know the man personally.” A double-heartbeat. “Sir.”

“
Years ago. In the `40s. An episode on the Caspian. He has… appeared in our files since then. And before. He's suspected, not confirmed, of being involved with the murder of Her Majesty's first son. Not proven. If he's active,
here
…”

“
You're implying a dangerous man.” As though any other type could have stolen 4-106 from under his nose.

Again.

“Tell me about him,” Perry said. “You have files. Give me his. I'm going to find him. Dangerous or not.
He stole my airship
. And murdered
two
of Thirty-Second’s.”

“
I'll give you more than his file,” said Fleming. “I'll give you a partner.”

Fleming pushed the phone buzzer o
n his desk.

Captain
Ahle, her hands cuffed in front of her now, came in, prodded by the aide named Moore, who held a sawn-off shotgun to the back of her neck.

“
Take a seat, Captain.”

“
Deputy Director Fleming,” said Ahle. “I've always wondered what your office looked like.”

“
Captain Ahle. Please, take a drink. You can hold a drink when handcuffed; I know from personal experience.”

Ahle
reached forward, picked the glass up with her handcuffed wrists, and took a long sip.

“
Captain Ahle, I'm going to dismiss my aides. May I first point out two things?” said Fleming. “One, there is nothing within two seconds’ reach of you that you might conceivably use as a weapon given your handcuffed state. Given that you are not a professional, I would say that there is nothing within
four
seconds’ reach of you.”