Life with the Privateers was good. Shipping through Kusari was taking a heavy beating, and the corporations from Liberty and Rheinland that traded there were kicking up a huge fuss with the Bretonian Government. Such was the state of affairs that Stuart had been placed under house arrest, and Fortunatus had been dealing directly with the Admiralty on behalf of the Privateers for months.
Nate rubbed his eyes as he hauled himself out of bed. His communicator was beeping incessantly, and when the Admiralty called they expected an immediate response. He slumped into the chair at his desk and opened the link.
"Wright here," he said, blearily.
"Ahhh, Sir Fortunatus! So good of you to finally pick up!" said an unctuous voice. Nate cursed silently. Colonel Lord Sir Alexander Bowers was a constant trouble to the Privateers, repeatedly calling for their disbandment and arrest. Nate had also discovered he was the second in command of the division that Martha had been working for when she was killed. Nate hated the man with a passion, and knew a confrontation about Martha would come soon. "You are required at the Admiralty offices immediately. Report to Major Walker as soon as you get here. Do not delay!"
The connection was terminated before Nate could say a word. He could feel his blood starting to boil. A jumped up twat with his head up his arse was how Stuart had described the Colonel, and Nate couldnt agree more.
Ten minutes later he was on his way to the Admiralty offices in Garrett House on Glebe Street. It had become the main co-ordination centre for the BAF since the Kusari invasion of Leeds, and the Admiralty had moved in there as well. At least, those of them that were brave enough to be on the front lines. Colonel Bowers ensured that his presence on Leeds was kept to an absolute minimum. Just another reason for Nate to hate him. He wondered what might have prompted Bowers to make an appearance.
Nate climbed the steps to the main doors and showed his BAF identification card to the guards on the door, who waved him through. He made his way to the lifts, and selected the 73rd floor. Before long he was entering the reception area for the Admiralty offices. He walked up to the reception desk.
"Fortunatus Wright to see Major George Walker."
The lady behind the desk looked up with a twinkle in her eye, and licked her lips flirtatiously. "Certainly sir. Please, go right through."
Nate couldnt help but smile. The Privateers had built themselves quite a reputation as dashing ruffians, and the attention they received from the women of Bretonia was nothing short of scandalous. It was only his memories of Martha that restrained him in that matter. He winked at the receptionist as he walked off to the Majors office.
"Bloody hell George!" he called as he threw open the door without knocking. "Where do you find these lovely ladies to guard your offices? I'll never underst........" He broke off as he saw that they werent alone. "Ah, Colonel Bowers. This isumm..well, you demanded my presence, Colonel, and here I am."
Nate flashed a quick look to Major Walker, who held an apologetically helpless expression.
"Yes, well, this wont take long. I am here to notify you in advance that Andrew Stuart," the Colonel deliberately left out the Sir, "has been released from house arrest. Theres some balderdash forthcoming about it all being some sort of misunderstanding. Anyway, the upshot is that your presence here is no longer required. Please hand over your pass to this building, and remove yourself forthwith."
The colonel fixed Fortunatus with a cold, dead glare, and held out his hand.
"Now, if youd be so kind, Mister Wright!"
Nate stared at the man in disbelief. The venom dripped from the mans voice. Something else was going on here, that much Nate knew. This was personal.
Fortunatus reached into a pocket, and pulled out his pass.
"Fine, here. But you have not seen the last of me, Colonel. We have unfinished business to discuss." He tossed the pass onto the Majors desk.
The Colonels mouth curled into a sneer as his eyes followed the trajectory of the pass. "I assume you are referring to your wife, Mr Wright. Well, theres nothing your pathetic attempts at investigation will reveal to you, beyond the fact that she worked for me. That she died protecting you only shows her incompetence. She will not be missed."
A blind rage descended upon Nate then, and he threw himself at the Colonel. A punch to the throat, followed by a kick to the groin and a knee into the face had the Colonel on the floor and unconcious within seconds. Nate fell upon the prone man, determined to throttle the life out of him, when a blow to his head sent him reeling. As he staggered to his feet, Major Walker forced him against the wall of the office.
"Nate! Nate, stop! Thisllll just get you court-martialled. Get the hell out of here!"
The adrenalin surge draining, Nate tried to focus on his friend. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his swimming vision, he pushed the Major away, and stumbled toward the door. As he opened it he looked back over his shoulder.
"Thanks George, I think I might have killed him there."
With that he left the room ran for the lift, his mind clicking back into gear. Bowers had clearly said what he did to get a reaction. It had succeeded, which meant Nate had lost the fight already. Cursing himself for a fool, he entered the lift. As the lift descended, his communicator chirruped. It was a message from Major Walker
"Fortunatus. I have been able to persuade the Colonel to let you get out of the building. He has no authority over you, and he provoked you with what he said. But he is royally pissed. Watch your back, and get off of Leeds as soon as you can. Good luck, my friend."
He made it out of the building without being challenged. As he looked up and down Glebe Street he wondered what to do next. Bowers obviously had no fears about Nates investigations into Marthas death. But just how much did he know? Nate knew he had to find out, one way or another. He came to a decision and crossed the street. Melting into the mass of civilians walking the pavement, he settled into a small alcove and watched the doors to Garrett house.
Two hours later he was rewarded as Colonel Bowers walked down the steps. Seeing Bowers bandaged nose brought a smile to Nates face. He hoped he'd broken it. As Bowers moved away, Nate slipped out of his concealed position, and followed at a discreet distance. Bowers made his way onto Barker Road, and hailed a taxi. Nate hurried forward then, and was just able to catch the serial number of the taxi as it pulled away. Going to an information terminal, he looked for the location of the taxi company. 344 Tattershall Way. He could get there within 10 minutes if he ran.
Panting heavily, he finally got to the taxi offices 20 minutes later. Damn, he was unfit! Way too much time spent in space. He struggled to catch his breath before entering. It was a simple layout. A single room on the ground floor, with a barred window looking into a control room, where a middle aged man sat with a microphone in front of him. The man looked up as Nate entered.
"Hello guv. Where you looking to go?"
"I'm not," Nate said as he moved up to the barred window. "I'm after some information." He pulled a small gold bar from his pocket, and slid it towards the man at the microphone. The man's eyes bulged as he recognised what was approaching him.
Gold! Nate smiled slightly at the reaction it drew forth. It cost a ridiculous amount to get hold of these miniature bullion bars from his contacts within the Junkers on Trafalgar, but with the war cutting into the Bretonian economy the way it was, the black market was thriving, and the credit was becoming worthless. Only real money was respected there, and real money meant gold.
"Sure thing, guv! What d'you need to know?" The man reached forward for the bar, but Nate kept his grip on it firm.
"One of your cars, number 1994943, picked up a military officer from Barker Road at exactly 13:47 today. I need to know where he was taken, and I need to know right now."
The man's hand paused, and he looked up sharply.
"Military, eh? Yeah, that bastard stiffed us on his fare, asked John to wait for him! Marchall district it was. Garbantrey Road. John said he went into number 47. Never came out. John tried to get into the place but it was locked up tight."
"Thanks. When I catch up to him, I'll be sure you get your fare." Nate turned and headed for the door, leaving the gold on the counter.
"You do that, mate!" shouted the man. "Always a pleasure doing business with a man of your..........distinction!!"
Fortunatus headed home then. He'd wanted some help if he was going to the Marchall district of Leeds. It was a dangerous place, and that meant he already knew who he wanted with him. Nobby Preston. Nobby knew the ins and outs of all the dodgy places in Bretonia it seemed, and Nate couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have covering his back. As soon as he got back to his apartments, he sent a transmission to Nobby. Within the hour, dishevelled and smelling strongly of tobacco, along with the sour aroma of hops, Nobby was at the door.
"Well, come on! Let's get this done, eh?" he said, immediately heading back out of the building. Nate locked the door and scurried after. Nobby's transport was a vehicle to match the man that drove it. Not exactly what Nate would have chosen, but they'd blend in seamlessly in Marchall. Nobby tended to do that, blend in. Nate wasn't sure, but he'd swear that half of it was because people seemed to actually block out the fact that Nobby was really there. It was a state of affairs Nate had seen his comrade use to his advantage many times. As they drove, Nate explained what had happened earlier in the day, and before long they had reached the edges of the Marchall district.
"You know where we're goin'?" Nobby asked, leaning over to Nate. "Can't see you 'aving been this way too often, eh?" A broad grin split Nobby's face and he chuckled.
"Er, not a clue Nobby. Garbantrey Road is what we're after. Number 47."
"Garbantrey, eh?" said Nobby, sucking air through his teeth. "Nasty area that. You did the right thing, asking me along. Right nasty area indeed. So, we're looking for Colonel Bowers are we? I'm gonna enjoy kicking seven bales outta that one, one day. Stuck up prick, he is. Something about him just don't sit right. You know?"
"Too right Nobby, just not tonight. This is merely an information gathering exercise. I want to know why he's here."
Nobby nodded, and went back to concentrating on the road. Ten minutes later he pulled over, pointing ahead.
"Garbantrey Road, Nate. Just through that alleyway. We'll be about halfway along if we go through there, or we could split and take an end each. What's your plan?"
Nate glanced at Nobby. "Plan? You think I'm planning this? You take that end, I'll take this. Meet you about halfway, right?"
Nobby nodded, and headed up the street they were on, quickly fading into the murk. Nate headed in the other direction. The streetlights were patchy at best. There was litter everywhere, plastic, tin cans, rusting chunks of metal, shattered glass, dead rodents, weeds growing through cracks in the pavement and road surface. This area hadn't seen much love in the past twenty years, that much was obvious. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached the end of the street, but there was no sign of Nobby. Not that he expected there to be.
He edged his way towards the start of Garbantrey Road. Peering around the corner, he saw a street much like all the others in the area. Dirty, poorly lit, with boarded up and broken windows everywhere. And no people. None that he could see at least. The lighting was so poor that large parts of the street were in complete darkness. Nate took a deep breath, and stepped onto the road, not knowing what to expect. There were no lights in any of the windows. The doorways he passed were deeply shadowed, and the occasional alleyway offered nothing but dark terror. He checked a door as he passed it. 174 hung from it in rusted iron. 'Looks like I picked the long way round,' he thought as me moved slowly up the street.
As he closed on number 47, he was grabbed from behind a pulled into an alleyway. A huge hand across his mouth stopped him from shouting out, and he was slammed hard against a wall, knocking the breath from him. As he gasped for air, he was roughly turned around, and looked into the eyes of a very large, muscled, crew-cut man. Nate looked into his eyes, and saw nothing but his death there. The huge hand gripped him round the throat, blocking off his breathing, and he was lifted bodily off the ground. Nate kicked out at the man, desperate to escape, to breathe, but he could feel his strength seeping away. Spots sparked on the edges of his vision, and he felt like he was entering a dark tunnel.
Just as he was about to pass out, he caught a glint of light, right in front of him. There was a gasp of surprise, and the vice-like grip on him suddenly released, and he crashed to the ground, sprawling forward as he gasped and coughed. Cool, delicious air flooded his burning lungs as his vision returned to normal. He saw a large, slumped form beside him, and smelled, rather than saw, Nobby. He looked up into Nobby's face, and saw anger there.
"You damned fool Nate!" Nobby rasped. "What the hell were you thinking, just waltzin' up the street? You're damn lucky I got to you in time. Ahhhh, I bloody hate havin' to stick a knife into someone, but you left me no sodding choice, now did you?!"
"Sorry Nobby," Nate gasped. His breathing was starting to come a little easier now, though his throat still hurt like hell. He saw a pool of blood seeping from the body lying next to him. "You saved my life. I can never thank you enough. Who the hell is, sorry was, this guy anyway? He isn't just any old thug." He grabbed hold of the man's far arm and rolled him over. Rifling through pockets produced a wallet, which Nobby opened.
"Oh hell!" What colour Nate could see had just drained from Nobby's face. He passed the wallet to Nate. There was an identity card. Nate went cold. It was a Bretonian secret service agent, and they'd just killed him.
They looked at each other, and realisation hammered its way into their shocked minds. Together they looked down at the corpse. Nobby pulled out a silver flask from one of his pockets and took a hefty swig, and his eyes glazed briefly. He didn't offer the flask to Fortunatus.
"What the hell have you got me into here, Nate? Why does a Bretonian agent want to kill you? What have you done to make the government want to kill you?" Nobby's voice was increasing in pitch with each question.
"I don't know, Nobby. I swear I don't! I came here to try and find out what Bowers is up to. That's it. And then this goon..........." Nate's eyes widened as another realisation came to him. "Errrrm, Nobby. These guys are never alone, are they? We've got to hide this body, and we've got to do it now!" He bent down and grabbed an ankle, and Nobby followed suit.
"Over there, Nate. There's a break in the wall we should be able to get this over. Come on! Pull!!"
There was a damp scraping as they hauled the body over the paving stones. Nate forced down the mental images his mind was conjuring. Reaching the breached wall, they manhandled the body over it, and into the yard beyond.
"That'll do," said Nate. "As soon as they realise this guy is missing they'll take this area apart to find him. No point in spending any more time in trying to hide the body."
"Yeah, I guess so." Nobby was regarding Fortunatus suspiciously. "You sure you've no idea what's going on here, Nate? You're awful cool for someone that's just had the government try to kill them."
"Look, Nobby. How much do you know about what happened to me before I joined the Privateers?"
"Ahhh," Nobby looked a little uncomfortable, and the flask appeared again, "you know. Bits and bobs. There might 'ave been a few things you said that made me want to find out more, you know? I weren't prying, or nothing, Nate. Well, mebbe I was, but it weren't malicious, eh?"
Nate help up a hand. "It's all right, Nobby. There's nothing you need to explain. I'm sorry I'm dragging you into my mess, but I really need some help here, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have covering my back right now....." Nate paused as he heard the roar of an approaching engine.
"Car!" whispered Nobby.
"That's no car, Nobby," breathed Nate, as the sound increased. There was something about the tone of the noise that was eerily familiar. He looked up to see the nose of a small vessel just appearing over the rooftops above them. Memories came flooding back then. The vessel was so similar to the Dragons that had destroyed his happy life back on Cambridge. "Kusari!" he spat. "That's a bloody Drake. Come on, Nobby! We need to see what's going on here."
They scrambled over the damaged wall, and back along the alleyway, as the vessel slowed further and descended. Edging along to the mouth of the alleyway, they peered around onto Garbantrey Road, as the Drake was touching down some forty yards away.
"That'll be right outside number 47," said Nobby in disbelief. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? But how would you know what I was thinkin'? I'm gonna shut up now, Nate."
Nate felt sick. How the hell had a Kusari vessel managed to get through the Leeds defence grids? As the engines of the Drake shut down, a doorway opened, and a someone, backlit, came onto the street. The face was shadowed, until it moved into a pool of light thrown by one of the few working streetlights. Colonel Bowers' features resolved themselves in the glow. He was smiling as the access door of the Drake opened, and a Kusari officer in full uniform stepped out. Nate whipped back into the alley, the blood drained from his face, and his entire body shaking violently.
"Nate! Nate?" Nobby looked really worried now. The flask was in Nobby's hand and he took a few gulps. "What the hell, Nate? You look like you just saw the Devil! You know who that is? How do you bloody well know who that is?! NATE!"
"That bastard," the words were forced out through gritted teeth, "is Major Ryaki Hakaryo. That's the bastard that sent in the attack on my bloody home! That's the bastard responsible for the death of my wife! That's the bastard that tortured me! And that's the bastard that's got my daughter!"
As he tried to surge forward, Nobby landed a powerful punch right in his solar plexus, and he crumpled to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. Nobby crouched down as Nate gasped for air. "Damn Nate, I'm sorry for doing that, but if you go roaring out there you're gonna get yourself, and me probably, killed. I can't 'ave that. No I can't. So you're gonna stay here, breathe slowly, stay safe, and I'm gonna just nip out there and see what I can find, right? Sound good to you? Don't bloody move 'til you hear from me." He placed a small communicator on the ground next to Fortunatus.
The only sound Nate could make was a muffled gasp. Nobby nodded to himself and pulled out the flask for a fourth time. With a lopsided grin on the edges of his mouth, he slipped, low, onto Garbantrey Road.
"Nobby, no! Wait." Nate croaked, but to no avail. Nobby was gone, leaving just the aroma of strong spirits.
As he tried to stand, Nate grabbed the communicator Nobby had left him. Finally hauling himself to his feet, he peered back around the mouth of the alleyway. Bowers and Hakaryo were just disappearing into the doorway, which then closed behind them. Hakaryo's ship was silent on the road, and nothing moved. There was no sign of Nobby. He continued to scan the road for a while, then ducked back into the alley. Everything ached. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees, coughing gently. Now that he had a few moments to think about it, the enormity of the presence of Hakaryo was starting to hit home. Memories of Martha and Philippa flooded him. Nausea gripped his stomach and he retched violently. His skin crawled as a cold sweat sunk its claws deep into his back.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he leaned back against the wall. A few deep breaths helped to calm him slightly. He had to do something, he had to make some sort of effort. All that was left of his former life was a prisoner, last seen onboard a Kusari destroyer. It was time to try to recover what he could of that life. It was time he tried to rescue his daughter. Drawing himself upright, he steadied himself and then strode out into the street, heading directly for the Kusari fighter. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he hoped desperately that something would present itself before he got himself killed.
He was ten yards from the Drake, and nothing had happened. No bolts of inspiration, no agents leaping out of the shadows to cut him down. Nate could feel the first tendrils of panic beginning to wrap themselves around his guts. What was he going to do when he got to the fighter?
"Oi! Nate!!" came the lilting rasp of Nobby's voice. "What the bloody ell do you think youre doing? Get your arse over 'ere right now, you great bleedin' idiot!"
Nate looked to his left, and there was Nobby, face purple, desperately waving Nate towards his hiding place in the mouth of yet another alleyway, a few doorways down from number 47. As he ducked down beside Nobby, Nate received a clip around the back of his head for his troubles. Nobby merely glared at him, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What?" demanded Nate. "Stop looking at me like that. I had to do something." Silent disapproval still flowed from Nobby. "Look, ok. I know it was probably stupid to walk up to that Drake, but I knew something would happen before I got there ...... And it did ...... Right? ....... Nobby? ........ Oh ****, Nobby, come on, talk to me at least. My mum used to give me the silent treatment like this. I couldn't take it then, and I still can't!"
With a final glare Nobby broke his silence.
"We got ourselves a way in. I was rooting around the back of these buildings and found a way in to this one." Nobby nodded at the wall next to him. "We need to get up into the attic, and all the roof spaces are joined. If we're quiet, we should be able to drop down into number 47 without being........."
"Wait. What? You were giving me the silent treatment about approaching that fighter, and now you're telling me we can sneak into the building that Bowers went into?"
"...heard." Nobby skilfully ignored what Nate was saying. "I've been inside already, Nate. Just you wait. You aint gonna believe what you see in there. Come on." Nobby suddenly turned and headed off down the alleyway. As Nobby merged in to the gloom, Nate realised that what he'd hoped for was happening, and set off after him.
A hole in the wall allowed them access to number 55. The building was empty, a thick layer of dust coating everything. Like much of Leeds, this was an area that had fallen into decay many years ago. Nate sneezed as Nobby disturbed the dust up ahead. They climbed three flights of stairs before Nobby stopped. With Fortunatus wheezing while he tried to catch his breath, Nobby helped himself to another slug or two from his flask.
"You going to pass that around?" asked Nate, holding out his hand. He felt he needed a boost right about now. Nobby twitched the flask away protectively, before reluctantly handing the flask across. Nate took a sniff, and recoiled as the fumes hit his nostrils. It was Molly poitin, and it made Nate's eyes water. He looked at Nobby, who'd knocked back about half the flask already. This stuff was not only strong enough to floor a horse, it was also mildly halucinogenic. What it was doing to Nobby in the volumes he was drinking it was anyone's guess. Nobby merely grinned as Nate handed the flask back, untouched.
"Right then, up there!" Nobby pointed to a hatchway in the ceiling. With a grace belying his frame he leaped up, caught the sides of the hatch and hauled himself through. Bracing himself, he reached down and offered Nate his hand, grinning. "Come on up then!" Nate couldn't help but smile. People underestimated Nobby at their peril. He jumped up, grabbing Nobby's offered hand, and easily scrambled through the hatch. Nobby set off along the joists, heading for a hole that separated one loft space from another.
Dust billowed up as they made their way through the loft spaces. Nate tried desperately not to sneeze, and had a few scares where he nearly missed putting his foot onto a joist. Eventually Nobby stopped and turned to Nate, raising a finger to his lips. He motioned to the next loft space, and then pointed down. This was it. They'd reached their destination. Nate breathed deeply, trying to slow his pounding heart, while Nobby merely took another swig from his flask. When he felt calm enough he nodded to Nobby, who grinned then moved to the hatch and lowered himself down. He landed soundlessly, then gestured for Nate to follow, moving off to one side. Thinking he should, perhaps, have taken a hit from the flask when he had the chance, Nate lowered himself carefully down and dropped lightly the last couple of feet to the floor. They then headed down the stairs.
Nobby descended slowly, placing his feet with deliberate care, and Nate did his best to do the same. With only a few creaks they reached the last few steps before the ground floor. Nobby turned and mouthed a silent "Wait", then vanished around the base of the stairs. He reappeared seconds later, beckoning eagerly, his grin nearly splitting his face. Nate followed into a large, empty room. He looked quizzically at Nobby, who was almost hopping from toe to toe in his excitement. Nobby pointed at the wall he stood next to. Nate looked at the blank, fairly heavily distressed wall in front of him. He changed his position and looked at it again, several times. It was a wall. He turned to Nobby and shrugged, unimpressed. Nobby simply jumped at the wall, and disappeared. His head reappeared a few seconds later, tears of glee on his cheeks, before vanishing back into the wall.
Hologram, Nate realised. He shook his head and walked towards the wall where Nobby had vanished. As he neared the wall he stopped, and examined it closely. It was an impressive hologram. Even from only a few centimeters away, Nate couldn't tell. The textures were perfect, and the shadowing even moved as Nate moved his head to the left, and then the right. He pushed his hand forward and it passed though easily. Continued investigation revealed a doorway of sorts, about two feet wide. Large enough to get through with ease, but small enough to avoid easy detection. The rest of him followed thereafter. He found himself in a narrow corridor that ended at a set of descending stairs some 15 yards ahead. Nobby leaned nonchalantly against the wall at the top of the stairs, waiting. The grin had gone, but Nate could see devilry dancing in his eyes.
"We can talk here. There's no listening devices that I can find." he whispered. "Pretty neat hologram, eh? Not seen anything that good, like ever. That's some damn serious tech to get a holo that bloody good." He sounded sober to Nate, but looking into Nobby's eyes, he was forced to re-evaluate the situation. The pupils were so dilated Nobby's eyes appeared to be black. "We can head off when you're ready, Nate. There's just a bit of an obstacle we gotta get past down there." The grin returned. "I ain't got a clue how we're gonna do that though."
"Don't have a lot of friends do you? Come on, let's go. Just don't go getting me killed, alright?" Nobby nodded and they slowly descended the stairway.
It was a long way down. Nate counted 17 flights, and still no sign of an end. The stairway was totally enclosed as well, so there was no way to tell. Their steps echoed hollowly around them. And then, around the corner after the stairs, a room opened out before them. It was incongruous, given the hanging tapestries, plush leather chairs and sofa, paintings on the wall and drinks cabinet against the left hand wall. Two used glasses rested on one of the small tables next to a pair of the leather chairs. Nobby was making a bee-line for the drinks.
"Nobby!" Fotunatus hissed. "Priorities!"
"What d'you think I'm doin', Nate? I got my priorities dead straight!" Nobby whispered back, as he poured a large glass full of a deep, amber liquid. "Hey, Nate! This is one of yours!" Nobby hefted the tumbler, and drained it in one, releasing a deep, contented sigh. "Ahhhh, that's a damn fine malt, Nate! Now, our problem is right there."
Nobby pointed at a shadowed alcove and Nate moved over to take a look. Through the alcove was a smaller room, housing a single door. Nate turned back to Nobby. "That's a Sturgess series vault, Nobby! They use them all through the Admiralty buildings. There's no way we're getting through that!"
"Never said it'd be easy, now did I!"
Nate spun as he heard a whirring noise from the alcove. "****! Nobby, we got company!" Desperately looking for a suitable hiding place, it suddenly occurred to him that Nobby had vanished. As he looked left and right, only a single place offered him any kind of protection. Swallowing his pride, he dived behind the sofa. As he heard the sucking noise created by the airseal as the door opened, a loud beeping started somewhere about his person. As he patted himself, trying to locate the source of the beeping, the sound of a pair of booted feet pounded into the room.
Finally locating the communicator Nobby had left with him, he silenced the device. "Ahhhh, don't mind me!" he called out. "Just took a wrong turn at the gents."
A deep bass rumble Nate assumed was a chuckle sounded just behind him. He slowly turned over to look right into the barrel of a large, antagonistic handgun. The man behind the gun was equally large and antagonistic. "Sorry mate," the man said. "Nothing personal, eh?"
Nate spotted Nobby just then, swinging a bottle at the man's head. The impact was crunching. There was no shower of shattering glass and flying liquid, like shown on so many films and TV shows. Just a heavy, wet thud as the toughened glass bottle, still mostly full of amber liquid, crushed the skull, sending shards of bone deep into the brain. Eyes rolling back, the man crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Hefting the bottle, Nobby unscrewed the top and took a long, deep swallow.
"Yup, damn fine malt, this." He handed the bottle to Nate. "Sorry about that one, it was the only distraction I could think of on the spur of the moment, like." Nate grabbed the proffered bottle, knocking back a few mouthfuls. "C'mon, Nate, he left the door open in his hurry to find you!" The infernal grin had returned to Nobby's face, as he turned and headed for the alcove. Nate hauled himself to his feet and followed. That was twice already he'd stared death in the face today. He wondered how long his luck could hold.
As they slipped past the vault door, Nobby turned to Fortunatus.
"Shut it? Not sure I'm too happy with blocking our only known escape route, Nate. P'raps we should jam it."
"You're right, Nobby. I'll go take a look back there, see if there's anything suitable."
"No need, Nate." Nobby reached into his pocket. He pulled out what looked like a thick, rusting nail, which he then jammed under the door, kicking it into place. Fortunatus raised an eyebrow. "What?" Nobby asked, defensively. "What?! It's just a bloody rafter nail! I saw it on the street...... you know........ I just........... thought........ stop bloody well looking at me like that!"
"Nobby, you are a revelation. A source of constant amazement. It's an honour to know you, it truly is."
"Eh? What? Errrm," Nobby looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Nice of you to say so, Nate." With that he turned and headed off down the corridor, and Fortunatus followed. The corridor turned a corner, then ended at an open door. Bright light emanated from beyond, along with the hum of computer systems. They could hear voices, but not make out what was being said.
Reaching the door, Fortuatus risked a quick glance in. There was a large, open plan area, with computer banks and display screens lining most of the walls. There were two people in the room, Colonel Bowers and the Kusarian, Hakaryo, and they were talking animatedly while viewing one of the larger screens at the far side of the room.
"Nobby, sneak up on them from the left." He whispered. "I'll come from the right."
Nobby nodded and held out his hand. "Sure thing, Nate. Gimme one of them guns, eh?" Nate looked at him blankly, and Nobby swore under his breath. "Don't tell me you didn't pick up the guns those goons we took out were carrying!" Nate shook his head. "What the hell were you thinkin'? Waltz in unarmed and just ask 'em nicely to come with us?!"
"Sorry Nobby," Nate whispered back. "Planning isn't exactly a strong point of mine. Get as close as we can and then rush them?"
Nobby raised an eyebrow at that. "Getting brave are you, Nate? Ahhh hell, we've come this far. Why not? I'll take the dog-eater, you hit the senior officer, eh?" He grinned, pulled out his flask and drained it. "Let's go!"
They'd made it half way across the room when the alarms started. Bowers turned, spotted Fortunatus running across the room, and pulled Hakaryo around.
"Run, Major!" he shouted, as he turned back to the computer. Hakaryo leapt forward, heading for the door, and Nobby swerved in an attempt to intercept him. Fortunatus ran headlong at Bowers, slamming into him at chest level. Nate felt Bowers ribs cracking as they crashed to the floor, and Bowers screamed in agony. Scrambling up as fast as he could, Nate placed a few vicious kicks into Bowers side and back, before reaching down and grabbing Bowers sidearm. He saw Nobby and Hakaryo in a tangled mass of arms and legs. There was no way he could safely shoot the Kusarian, so he ran over to help. As he got close, Hakaryo landed a vicious roundhouse kick into Nobby's chest. Nobby flew backwards, crashing into some soft furnishings, and Nate raised the sidearm. The Kusarian was doing exactly the same, his sidearm slightly ahead in the race. A flying chair appeared from Nobby's direction, knocking the Kusarian's gun from his grasp. Hakaryo ducked and spun, his leg slashing out and knocking Fortunatus' feet out from under him. Fortunatus slammed into the floor, the gun knocked from his grip. As he scrambled after it, Hakaryo ran for the door, and escaped into the corridors beyond, with Nobby in close pursuit.
Fotunatus found Hakaryo's sidearm first. Grabbing onto it, he looked back to where Bowers was. The man was pulling himself up, trying to do something with the computer terminal he had been working at with Hakaryo. Fortunatus raised the gun.
"Whatever you're doing, stop it right now, Colonel!" he shouted. Bowers ignored him. Fortunatus fired a single round which slammed into the wall just to the left of Bowers head. He quickly raised his arms.
"Okay, okay. Don't shoot! I surrender." Bowers slowly turned towards Fortunatus. Fortunatus signalled Bowers to move away from the computer terminal. A quick glance showed a data transfer in progress. Fortunatus tapped a few keys. Detailed defence plans were being sent directly to Hakaryo's ship. As Fortunatus realised the depth of the treachery involved, Bowers leapt at him. His attempt failed as he doubled up, screaming in pain and clutching his ribcage. As he tried to straighten, Fortunatus looked at the man in disgust. As there eyes met, Fortunatus spat a single word.
"Traitor!"
He raised Hakaryo's sidearm and pulled the trigger. Flame jetted from the muzzle as the bullet hammered into Bowers forehead, rocking his head back, and blood misted the room. Bowers fell to the floor, dead. Fortunatus knelt at the body, and carefully wiped the gun clear of his fingerprints, before dropping it carelessly on the floor. With a final look at the body, and the blood rapidly spreading from the gaping hole in the back of Bowers' head, he turned and ran back the way he and Nobby had come. Pounding along corridors and through doorways, he finally caught up to Nobby at the door that led onto Garbantrey Road. Nobby was slamming his shoulder into the door, and though it shook with every blow, it was holding.
"Nobby" shouted Fortunatus, as he approached. "Together!"
Nobby nodded, and as Fortunatus surged forward, he joined in. Both their shoulders slammed into the door and it burst open, spilling them into the street. Fortunatus looked up just in time to see Hakaryo's ship disappearing over the rooftops.
"NO!!" he screamed. "Philippa!" Sobs wracked his body. He'd been so close, so close to catching his daughter's kidnapper.
Sirens started wailing then, and Nobby hauled Fortunatus to his feet.
"Nate, c'mon!! Where's that bastard Bowers? We gotta be gettin' outta here! Nate! Where's Bowers?"
Fortunatus looked up at Nobby and smiled, viciously. Nobby merely nodded, and pulling Fortunatus in his wake, they ran for Nobby's car. They jumped in and Nobby gunned the engine, tearing off down the street without any lights. As they disappeared around the corner the first of the military vehicles arrived on the scene.
The next day found Fortunatus and Nobby in their preferred bar, watching the news broadcasts. The one they were waiting for finally came on.
The Bretonian Military is united in mourning today for Colonel Lord Sir Alexander Bowers. Colonel Bowers was found dead early this morning in a top secret military bunker. It appears that a Kusari plot to steal top secret military data was foiled by Colonel Bowers, who paid with his life. A spokesman for the military insists that no sensitive data was lost to the Kusari, and an investigation into how a single Kusari light fighter had managed to evade detection and escape Leeds is underway. We will bring you further updates on this story as and when we receive them. In other news........................................
"Well, that wanker seems to be able to escape the truth in death as well!" muttered Nobby.
"Yeah, but there's no way the BAF'll admit to a traitor in their midst if they don't have to, eh?" Fortunatus downed his beer. "Nobby, I gotta go. Thanks for all your help. I owe you, big time." Fortunatus offered Nobby his hand, who shook vigorously.
"No worries, Nate. Good luck out there. Be seein' you on Gibraltar, no doubt. If you needs me, you knows where I am, eh?"
Fortunatus nodded his gratitude, and walked slowly out of the bar.
Gibraltar offered little in the way of comfort. Daily reports showed that the Kusari war machine was pushing deeper into Leeds, and despite all that the Privateers had been doing for the last few months, supplies kept on getting through to the Nagasaki far too frequently. Tempers among the privateers were frayed and arguments were frequent. Andrew Stuart had been released, but this had done little to cure the dispondancy felt by the men. They needed a big win, and soon.
Fortunatus sat at the bar and raised his hand for another drink. His thoughts, as usual, rested on his missing daughter. He'd scoured the Taus, running from one system to another as reports mentioning the Dakuryuu trickled into the station, but without success. The vessel always seemed two or three steps ahead. He looked up as a hand was laid on his shoulder.
"Nate, you got a problem." It was the battered face of Nobby. He looked concerned. "It's your home on Cambridge. Looks like someone wants it bad. There's some kind of repossession order or something. You might wanna take a trip back, eh?"
"Bastards!" His chair flew back as he stood. "Thanks for the heads up, Nobby! Don't go disappearing though. I might need you again."
"Course!" Nobby called, as Fortunatus disappeared through the entrance to the bar. Looking at the counter he saw the untouched drink Fortunatus had left. He smiled as he reached for it.
******
Gazing down upon the ephemeral beauty of his home planet, Cambridge, Fortunatus sighed. He had done so much since he'd thrown in his lot with Andrew Stuart. Now he'd murdered a senior member of the Bretonian Armed Forces, a traitor admittedly. He'd thought that the family business was safe, but it seemed someone had other ideas. A minor Lord was using the Privateers' status as criminals to attempt to seize his land to "aid the war effort". His solicitor was confident he could overturn the seizure of his property, but it would take months, perhaps even years. In the meantime, the distillery would close, and Fortunatus had no doubt everything saleable would go. He knew he needed help.
Opening a comms link back to Gibraltar, Fortunatus drummed his fingers as he waited for a response. The screen finally came to life, the face on the other end bleary eyed and unshaven.
"Alright there Nate. Didn't think it'd take you long to call. What do you need?"
"Nobby, get the Magpie and get some of the lads together, and meet me in orbit of Cambridge. We've got some heavy lifting to do."
Killing the link, Fortunatus turned his ship into the window that would allow him to land at his home. He had people to gather, if he was going to be able to move his distillery over to Gibraltar.
******
By the time the Magpie got into Cambridge orbit, he had been joined on the planet by Nobby, Maggie Hackett and Nathan Hargreaves, and they, along with many of the locals, had started to break down the distillery. A pair of Clydesdales - one of them the Jackdaw, Fortunatus' own ship - were loaded with the barrels of whisky that were still aging, and the first runs to the Magpie made. Four hours on, the heavy vehicles, and the noise of the Clydesdales masked the approach of the police vehicle. The first any of them knew about it was when a heavy hand clamped down on Fortunatus shoulder, and handcuffs were clinked onto his wrists.
"What the bloody hell?!" he exclaimed.
"Fortunatus Wright, I am arresting you for the illegal removal of Her Majesty's property. Seargeant Jacobs, arrest these others as well."
"Yessir!" came the prompt bark, and the sergeant turned right into the fist of Maggie Hackett. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, and Maggie stepped over his prone form, eyes blazing.
"I don't think you want to be doing that, copper!" she shouted at the man at Fortunatus back. "Nathan! Shoot the bastard!"
Nathan blanched slightly, but still drew his weapon and pointed it at the man behind Fortunatus. His hand shook slightly.
"Bloody hell, Nathan! Put the damn gun down!" shouted Fortunatus. "You're more likely to shoot me, with your hand shaking like that!"
A gunshot rang out, and there was a scream from behind Fortunatus as someone crumpled to the ground. Maggie holstered her sidearm, and reached for the man still writhing on the ground, rifling through his pockets for the keys to the handcuffs that bound Fortunatus.
"Told you, copper." she whispered into his ear, as she located the keys. She stood and unlocked the cuffs.
Fortunatus turned to look at the man on the ground. Blood spilled from his shattered knee. Nathan still had his sidearm trained on him, his face showing his shock. Fortunatus moved over, and gently pressed down on his arm, forcing him to lower the weapon.
"Nathan, I need you to get these two to a hospital, ok?" Nathan nodded, dumbly. "Good. Take George here with you," have waved to one of the locals, "and drop them off. Remember, don't be hanging around to answer questions, just get them the help they need."
As George moved to the policeman with the shattered knee, Nathan holstered his gun, and knelt to help.
"Right everyone, we gotta get moving! This place is going to be crawling with coppers soon, and probably worse besides! Maggie, take Nobby and go watch the gates."
Everyone increased their efforts. Within half an hour Nathan had returned, having delivered the policemen as requested.
"Nathan!" Fortunatus called. "Did you spot anything untoward on your travels?"
Nathan turned, grim faced, and headed over.
"Yes Nate, that we did. Looks like quite a force is being gathered about 5 miles out. We were able to get around them, but I'm sure I spotted a couple of Hussar fighters on the ground. I don't think we've got long before they arrive."
Fortunatus turned to the locals, gaining their attention with a loud whistle.
"Folks! Time for you all to go. The police, amongst others, are on their way, and I don't want any of you getting into trouble for what's gone on here today. Get yourselves home. You all know the back routes around here. I suggest you use them. I can't begin to thank you all enough for what you've done. There'll be a crate making its way to each and every one of you."
They dispersed quickly, and soon only the privateers remained. As the final copper pipes were being loaded into the last Clydesdale, gunshots were heard. The clatter continued unabated for about thirty seconds until a large explosion shook the ground. Nobby and Maggie soon appeared at the crest of the drive, running full pelt.
"Time to go!!" Maggie was shouting at the top of her lungs. Nobby pulled his hipflask out and took a long swig as he was running. "Get that bloody ship ready to fly!"
The pair were halfway to the Clydesdale when a Hussar rose above the hill. Fortunatus and Nathan ran into the freighter and got the engines started, as the Hussar loomed large. The comms unit blared as the police Hussar initiated direct comunications.
Unidentified freighter. This is Her Majesty's Police. Kill your engines and stand down immediately. We have orders to open fire should you fail to comply. I repeat, stand down immediately.
Nathan and Fortunatus exchanged glances as Maggie and Nobby arrived on the bridge of the freighter. As they strapped themselves in, a bust of fire from the Hussar lanced into their hull.
Unidentified freighter, STAND DOWN! You have ten seconds to comply!
"Ahhh, bollocks. Hold tight guys, this is gonna hurt!" shouted Fortunatus. "I've got to keep the shields offline for this to work."
He swung the Clydesdale around, and more fire ripped into the armour plating. With the Hussar tight on their tail, Fortunatus knew they only had a few seconds before their engines would be disabled. He engaged the cruise engines, and pointed the nose of the freighter directly up. As the Cruise engines kicked in, a shockwave erupted outwards. The Jackdaw rocketed up at unfathomable speed, and the unfortunate Hussar caught the full force of the shockwave. It was thrown into the distillery building, demolishing one of the walls, and the rest of the building collapsed in on it. On the Jackdaw, the four privateers were pressed into their seats, as the gravitational generators struggled to deal with the forces placed upon the small freighter. Hull plating shook loose, and old stress fractures ripped open.
Finally the shaking ceased as the Jackdaw broke free from the gravitational pull of Cambridge. Warning lights flashed everywhere. Fortunatus turned to his comrades.
"Right, to the escape pods you lot. The Jackdaw has flown her last flight, and soon enough she'll just be scrap floating in space. I'll call the Magpie to come pick us up." The privateers nodded and, as they clambered into the available pods, Fortunatus sent the Jackdaw's final transmission.
"Magpie, Magpie, this is Jackdaw. We need your assistance. We're breaking apart here, just tractor in whatever you can when you arrive. We'll be safe in our pods. See you soon."
"We'll be there forthwith, Nate," came the response.
Fortunatus took a last look around, then climbed into an escape pod. As he drifted slowly away from the disintegrating Jackdaw, he planned out the layout of the new distillery he was going to build on Gibraltar.
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