It had been a long time since Cutler Beckett had graced the sands of Port Royal. He almost wanted to linger on the porcelain beaches and soak in the beauty of the seas around him, but he couldn't. Today, he was here on business. He straightened his silken scarf and urged his horse into a trot down his line of military.
He was met by no one. Civilians shut their doors to him. Bars closed down and business closed up shop. He didn't need an invitation. The stench of death was all he needed to follow; the red navy uniformed corpses littered the way to the fort. It had been weeks since he'd heard from any of his Company guards stationed here, but if the bodies in the street were any indication, his presence was sorely needed.
He dismounted his horse and lashed the reins to a nearby post, pushing open the doors to the fort. He narrowly missed being decapitated as a blade swung down from the ceiling. Luckily his reflexes had forced him to roll out of the way. This wasn't the work of an ordinary assassin. He crouched low to the ground, throwing a knife at the rope that held the weapon, still swinging wildly. His blade made its mark and a body tumbled to the ground, wrapped in silken linen. He stood, examining it, finding it was a flag, a calling card of sorts. And the body belonged to the former governor of Port Royal.
"Sir?" This was a game to the assassin. Now he just needed to figure out the right piece to play it. He pulled the flag from the body.
"Have this cleaned. And get my men up here to clean up the mess! I've much work to do."
"Of course sir." His aid said, taking the flag from him and ordering the rest to work.
Jack slammed back another mug of ale. He intended to get as wasted as he possibly could in a short night's time in the bars of Tortuga. A young man slid onto the bar stool beside him. "Whiskey, bartender?"
"Whiskey?" Jack looked to the man in horror. "No, no, mate. You look like you need rum."
"Perhaps if I were looking to get drunk, yes. But for now, whiskey will do." Jack narrowed his eyes. He knew that voice. He peered at the man over another mug of ale, trying to place his face. The bartender poured him a glass of whiskey and he took it, leaving a small pouch of coins in place of the glass. "You shouldn't stare so much, Jack. You'll draw attention to us."
"How do you know my name?" Jack asked.
"It's hard not to, Captain Sparrow. You're a popular man in these parts. I hear you're a wealth of information about your fellow brethren." He murmured lowly.
"Information has a price."
"Consider it paid for." He deposited a leather bound papers on the counter, topped with a pouch of golden coins. Jack pushed the coins aside, opening the papers. They weren't letters of marque, but they certainly were letters that would prevent the East India Trading Company from pursuing Jack Sparrow and his beloved Black Pearl.
"How do you come by these?" They were signed and sealed by none other than Lord Beckett himself.
"Really, Jack?" The man glanced at him and Jack froze, knowing that face anywhere.
"You've got a lot of balls, walking into Tortuga like this. Any man in here would shoot you on sight."
"Let's keep my anonymity then." Beckett answered.
"You must be truly desperate." Jack murmured.
"I'm looking for someone."
"That's not a lot to go on." Beckett pulled the flag from his satchel.
"Is this flag familiar?" Jack took it from him, spreading it out over the bar.
"Where did you find this?"
"Wrapped around the body of the Port Royal governor." Beckett answered. "You know it?" Jack frowned, creases deepening in his forehead.
"I know that it warrants bad news. The least I can do is keep an eye out for trouble. It will follow this flag."
"So it is a calling card." Beckett murmured.
"I'd rather not play the piece that you want to answer to this call. You need to find Captain Barbossa. He is more willing to take such risks." Jack grabbed the papers. "Keep your gold, and keep your men off my ship, and I will do my best to help you. And get this infernal flag out of here." Jack said, disappearing into the crowd of the bar, anxious to be away from Beckett.
Shadows moved alongside the streets of Tortuga. "Jack seems anxious." One of them commented, watching the scene from outside a window.
"Is that him?" A female voice asked.
"Hardly recognized him out of his military uniform, but that's him. There's no mistaking it. His signet seal was pressed into those papers. He must have made a trade with Jack."
"Does it make you anxious? Seeing him this close?" She asked again. Admiral Norrington looked down to the woman at his side- someone he'd sworn his life to protect.
"I believe I'll survive, my captain."