Gilbert blinked again. “Well, why the hell didn’t you wake me up, goddamn it?” He leaped to his feet with a board in his hand, swayed, then brandished the piece of wood. “Death to whoever the hell it is we’re fixin’ ta kill!” he screeched. A probably errant pistol ball struck the board and slapped it into his face. He went down as though poleaxed. “I’m keeled!” he wailed through busted lips. “I knew it! Just a matter o’ time!”
“You ain’t killed!” Tabby shouted, trying to drag him to his feet. “But you are drink too much!” She dropped his arm. “Me too,” she admitted. Leaving Gilbert where he lay, she ran toward Walker, trilling a cry of alarm.
There was much alarm already. Weary as Baalkpan was, most of her sentries were alert. Those who could be. A coast defense gun, situated to protect the shipyard, lit the night with a mighty roar. Another went off and a red alarm rocket screeched into the sky. Bronze pipe-gongs began sounding throughout the city. Spanky McFarlane ran past a still-babbling Gilbert dressed only in his hat and skivvies. There was a. 45 in each hand. Mallory and Rodriguez wore only their skivvies, but they both had ’03 Springfields. Keje rushed to the scene with half a dozen armed ’Cats. Blindingly, Walker ’s searchlight flared down on the scene like an angered God. The tableau it revealed was stunning not only in its unexpectedness, but in the magnitude of the implications and the scope of the slaughter.
Commander Billingsly stood behind all three females, who were still tied together, and held a long-barreled pistol pressed painfully under Princess Rebecca’s jaw. Another man with blood on his face held a cutlass across the throats of Sandra Tucker and Sister Audry. Five other men still stood, although all seemed wounded to some degree, but there were at least a dozen bodies scattered on the old seaplane ramp. One of them was Dennis Silva.
Silva, at least, didn’t seem dead, but he was covered with blood and just sitting on the ground at the women’s feet. Lawrence was there too, equally bloody, but apparently uninjured. He was supporting Silva and looking intently at the princess.
“Drop your weapons!” Billingsly demanded.
“Eat shit!” Spanky growled back. “Clearly you don’t know who you’re monkeyin’ around with!”
“I admit to some uncertainty in that regard,” Billingsly admitted. “Your man here, the big one, is not dead. I must say both his arrival and his courage came as a significant surprise. It is a shame you force me to kill him.” Billingsly nodded at one of his remaining men, who pointed a pistol at Silva’s apparently senseless head.
“Ronson, Ben,” Spanky said quietly. “You got enough light on your sights?”
“Yeah.”
Both Springfields spoke almost as one and the henchman’s head geysered up and backward in what appeared an almost neon spray under the harsh light.
Billingsly flinched and drove the pistol more savagely into the princess’s neck. “Well,” he said, recovering himself. “Touche. A most impressive demonstration of marksmanship! You have saved your man, bravo! It changes nothing, however.”
“How’s that?” Spanky asked. “At one word from me, these two guys can do the same to you and your pals and this little game’ll be over.”
“That would be a most unfortunate word for you to give. You see, I have yet another hostage in the boat behind us, a young Mr. Abel Cook, if I don’t mistake his name. He is lightly injured, I’m afraid, but he is also in the hands of a most dedicated friend of mine, a Mr. Truelove. He is perfectly prepared to cut that young man’s throat, and you can’t even see him.” Billingsly shrugged. “Mr. Truelove is also performing a number of other tasks, highly specialized for this occasion.”
Spanky glanced to his right as a winded Adar and Alan Letts arrived. He knew both would have enough sense to say nothing until they knew more about the situation. “Such as?” Spanky asked.
“Mr. Truelove is holding a hooded lantern over the side of the boat. As long as that colored lantern is visible to my ship, Ajax, she will not fire a full broadside of grapeshot into this very gathering. If you carry out your threat I will die, which would certainly disappoint me, but then Mr. Truelove would drop that lantern into the sea and everyone here, including many of you-who I predict are leaders of this ridiculous Alliance-would also die. A most tragic ending to what I had hoped would be a very peaceful little rescue.”
“Kidnapping, you mean!” Letts snarled.
Billingsly shrugged again. “Semantics. A great hobby among philosophers, but quite tedious for me, I’m afraid.”
“You’re bluffing,” Spanky declared. “I can still see your ship’s lights, riding where they’ve been for months!”
“A regrettable subterfuge… Mr. McFarlane, is it not? A mere anchored raft with lights. I assure you, Ajax stands less than two hundred yards offshore this very moment. You could adjust your annoying light to see her if you wish. No? Well then, you should probably take my word.”
“You can’t possibly expect to get away with this!” Adar remarked forcefully. “We will chase you; we will hunt you! We will never give up! You are committing an act of war against a people who mean you no ill!”
“Oh, I certainly hope so!” Billingsly said. “War with you might suit our plans quite nicely just now! As for pursuit, what will you make it with?” He gestured at Walker. “Surely not that. It is not even armed and requires more weeks of repair before undertaking a chase. The bulk of your fleet is elsewhere, and that which is here and nearly ready to sail-your ‘new-construction steamers,’ you call them-are about to suffer a mischief.” He looked about. “Does anyone happen to have the time?”
A red pulse of light engulfed the waterfront and a towering, roiling ball of flame gushed into the heavens. A moment later, there was a second flash, as large as the first, and the thunderous detonations reached them at last.
“My God! The fuel storage tanks!” Letts whispered. “They must have bombed the whole tank battery!” It was true. It also wasn’t lost on anyone that the flash had indeed illuminated Ajax, just offshore.
“You son of the Devil!” Princess Rebecca finally screamed. “You filthy, vile, reptilian monster! These people needed that fuel to fight the Grik, not us, you pathetic fool! You’ve destroyed us all!”
Sandra, a bloody gag back in her mouth, struggled against the man holding her until he pressed the cutlass tighter, drawing blood. Billingsly silenced the princess with another jab of the pistol.
“There, now!” Billingsly exclaimed cheerfully. “No doubt you will replace the fuel shortly, but I am reliably informed that your new boilers do not thrive on wood or coal.” He shook his head. “You may now regard that as an oversight in design, but perhaps not. The oil you use instead seems to have a number of advantages… but it is frightfully flammable, isn’t it? In any event, you have little left with which to chase us! Your better-sailing frigates, gone with the fleet, alas, might have had a chance if the winds favored them, but your steamers will be no faster than we-and helpless if the wind fails! We would have a good start on them regardless. As for your ‘prizes,’ all the swifter variety of those are either gone as well, or their conversions are not yet complete.”
“We will chase you, nevertheless,” Adar warned grimly.
“Please do! Be my guest to try, but remember this: for each hostile act on your part, a hostage will fall into the sea with his or her throat cut! The one-eyed giant will die first. He has cost us much and spoiled what would have been a perfect plan. Next, the injured boy. After that, the Roman witch priestess will die, followed by your precious Minister of Medicine, Miss Tucker. I trust things will never proceed that far. If they do and if Ajax is ultimately somehow destroyed, the princess will, regrettably, die with the ship. Do as you will. Try what you like.” He paused. “Test me,” he taunted.
“We will chase you and we will watch you,” Adar promised, “and we had better see our people alive when we do!”
“As you will. As I said, you are welcome to try. Beware if I tire of your company, however!”
Billingsly looked about for a moment, apparently pondering, then nodded to himself. Spanky recognized the look of someone who thought he’d covered all his bases. For the life of him, Spanky couldn’t figure out what the man might have missed.
“Gather the giant’s weapons,” he instructed one of his men. He glanced at Spanky and raised his voice. “You will be safe,” he assured the reluctant underling. “If they kill you, Truelove will kill the boy. Now hurry; we are leaving this place at last!”
“You’ll regret this, Billingsly!” Spanky shouted. He saw Silva move a little and knew at last that the big man still lived. Oh, Lord , he thought, but it was something, at least. With a little more certainty, he shouted again, “I guarantee you’ll regret this!”
“Perhaps,” Billingsly replied. “I have few regrets, actually. I’m sure I would regret killing these poor souls now
