“The next chance you get, Ned,” Lucas said, “approach Drakov. Tell him you overhead us planning to break into his cabin to search for something called a warp disc. You won’t know what that is, of course, but you’ll tell him because you are afraid our efforts might ruin your chances of sharing in the treasure, maybe even get you killed.”
Land nodded. “But suppose my doing that gets you killed?” he said.
Lucas shrugged. “That’s just a chance we’ll have to take.”
The atmosphere at mess that night was jubilant. They might have expected otherwise, with the death of a member of the crew, but life went on. Treasure had been found and wine flowed freely. No one mentioned the man who had died.
Drakov was last to arrive, as usual, with the ever-present cadre of Shiro, Martingale, von Kampf and Benedetto in his wake. They had seen little of von Kampf and virtually nothing of Martingale. Land inquired of Drakov if he would ask Shiro to tattoo him and was invited to come to Drakov’s cabin after mess, where Shiro kept his inks and needles.
“I will do better than that, Mr. Land,” said Drakov. “Tattooing is a pleasant diversion for Shiro, but not much of a diversion for yourself. Thus far, you have only tasted of our life beneath the sea. In a short while, you will see how we recreate, as well.”
“We’re making port?” said Land.
“In a way,” said Drakov. “It is past time for my men to enjoy some liberty. The company of men is pleasurable, but somewhat limiting. I like to keep my crew happy.”
“Does that mean women?” Land said.
Andre gave him a wry look.
“It does, indeed, Mr. Land,” said Drakov. He turned to the commandos. “You may have noticed Mr. Martingale’s absence of late. He has been upon an errand for me. I am pleased to report matters are well in hand. Before too long, I shall be ready and you will know my plans in full at that time. I have decided to make good use of you.”
“With or without our consent?” said Lucas.
“Oh, you will give your consent,” said Drakov. “I feel sure of that. And you will be pleased to learn you will survive. At least, if you follow my directions.”
“And if we don’t?” said Finn.
“I think you will.”
“Why don’t you stop playing games and tell us what’s on your mind?” said Finn.
“I’m disappointed that you have not deduced it,” Drakov said. “Where is your imagination? I am in command of an underwater, mobile, virtually undetectable strategic missile base. What use might I make of it?”
“If you believe you can get away with international blackmail, Drakov, you’re madder than I thought,” said Finn. Shiro started to rise, but Drakov quickly motioned him back down.
“Please, Mr. Delaney,” he said, “Shiro is quite sensitive about the manner in which I am addressed. I would advise you not to provoke him. You would be no match for him. As for your suggestion, I thought you would give me credit for more imagination than that. In point of fact, I could easily get away with international blackmail, though I-but no. I will let you contemplate it further. It amuses me. At any rate, you will all know soon enough. For now, you may prepare to leave the Nautilus for a short time. We can hardly put into Barataria in a nuclear submarine. For that purpose, we require another type of ship.”
“Barataria?” said Land. “The name rings a bell. Where have I heard it before?”
“It should be well familiar to a seaman, Mr. Land,” said Drakov, “even one such as yourself, who has worked out of New England and Canada. You will have heard stories of Barataria, perhaps during your boyhood. There are several places we visit for recreation and Barataria Bay is one of them, a particular favorite with my men. In the year 1807, Barataria came into prominence as an island smuggling base. It is located at the mouth of a bay in the bayou country at the gulf near New Orleans. In many ways, Barataria was a tiny nation unto itself, a haven for pirates and smugglers where the law did not reach, at least for many years. The man who ruled this pirate island is one you will undoubtedly have heard of. He was one of the last freebooters, a legendary figure among corsairs. His name was Captain Jean Lafitte.”
8
Benedetto came to their cabin after transition was completed and announced they were surfacing. “The captain requests the pleasure of your company on deck,” he said, with a mock bow.
“Have we got a choice?” said Finn.
Benedetto grinned and stood aside, holding the door open for them. They climbed up through the hatchway and stepped onto the outer deck of the Nautilus, into the open air for the first time since they came aboard. The warm wind was the first thing they noticed. The second thing was a sight which brought them up short. Several hundred yards away, sailing toward them, was a long, clipper-bowed schooner with tall masts and a sleek, low hull. It was a lovely ship with graceful lines, its wooden hull painted white. As it came about, its sails luffing, its crew prepared to bring her alongside.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” said Drakov. “My prize possession, the Valkyrie. Everything I learned in my youth as a ship’s captain in the Pribilofs, I used in building her. We shall be going aboard while the Nautilus submerges and awaits our return.”
“Who’s sailing her?” said Lucas.
“And where did she come from?” said Drakov, smiling. “Isn’t that what you really want to know? For now, I will tell you only that she is a time ship, like the Nautilus. Mr. Mar tingale has arranged for her arrival at these temporal coordinates. We are now in the Gulf of Mexico, in the year 1812. As to where she came from, as you have surmised, I have a base of operations where she is berthed when I am not using her. You will forgive me if I do not tell you where or when it is located. You will see it for yourself before very long. Then you will be able to fully appreciate the extent of my resources. The Valkyrie’s crew are people I have carefully selected, from various nations and time periods. I have created my organization in the mold of the Timekeepers, only I have made it a great deal more clandestine and efficient. We are all united in one cause. Temporal corsairs or, as you would put it, time pirates.” He grinned. “Thus far, Mr. Priest, you have seen only the tip of the iceberg. I want you to see it all.”
“We’re to be your messengers, is that it?” Finn said. “That’s why you’ve been flexing your muscles for us. We’re supposed to be suitably impressed, so we can tell Forrester how formidable you are when you send us back to him with your demands, right?”
“Rather crudely phrased,” said Drakov, “but you’re quite correct. I want my father to have a clear understanding of my strength, of what I have accomplished. A father should be proud of his son.”
“You expect him to buckle under?” Finn said.
Drakov chuckled. “If the choice were his, I am certain he would not, regardless of the cost. But the choice is not his. Is it?”
The Valkyrie came alongside and lines were tossed to the men aboard the Nautilus. The crew of the submarine secured the lines to cleats built into the deck. The exchange of crews began. Several of the men sailing the Valkyrie remained on board. Drakov explained they would stand watch upon the ship while the crew of the submarine enjoyed their liberty among the smugglers and corsairs of Barataria. The rest of the Valkyrie’s crew boarded the submarine. They were a colorful group, dressed according to period in loose-fitting cotton shirts, leather vests, sea boots and striped breeches. They were Blacks and Asians, Europeans, Scandinavians, Hispanics, a melting pot of nationalities and races, all rough-looking, all in excellent physical condition. They moved quickly, with military precision.
“This is looking worse and worse,” Finn said to Lucas.
Lucas nodded. If, as Drakov boasted, they had only seen the tip of the iceberg, then it was already more than they could handle. They needed help badly, only there was no way to summon help. Even if they could, by the time it arrived, Drakov would be long gone, to another century. Drakov knew there was nothing they could do and his
