Chapter 9 A Pirate's Parlay
The whole operation had gone without flaw. Except for the unplanned warming up session Easter so generously provided, everything went down smooth. Almost too smooth to be true, thought Jason as he was sitting on one of the mossy wooden benches that lined the abandoned train station.
The pirate leader watched in leisure as the councilor was hauled out of his treasured coach. From the intelligence that Patrcik had managed to gather, he had a pretty clear picture of how it looked on the inside. It also gave him an even clearer picture of the man standing in front of him. He decided to let him have the first move. Jason enjoyed a moment of silence under the clear blue sky, an easy breeze smelling of crop passed before the other man couldn't stand it any longer.
'Who are you? What do you want? What did you do to my escort?' demanded Morrow, unable to prevent his voice from breaking.
'Ah, straight to the point,' smiled Jason, 'I like that.'
Without answering further, the tall pirate took a hip flask from a pocket of his leather flying jacket and took a swig, letting it burn its way down his throat. He offered the bottle to his guest, who refused.
'You know very well that the People's Collective is a dry state,' said Morrow, '"Don't be drunk with wine, because that will ruin your life. Instead, let the Holy Spirit fill and control you."'
'Come, come now. You're amongst friends here, 'replied Jason and winked, 'We won't tell your little secrets.'
When Morrow persisted to refuse, Jason sighed and put his bottle away.
'Suit yourself, but you're missing out on some great stuff. Blake's Black Label, the best moonshine money can buy. But of course, you already know that.
Very well, I'll answer first, then you answer me. To start with, I'll let you in on a little trade secret of mine: how I managed to get you here.
We owe our success to the twins here mostly; their accuracy is nothing short of perfection. It were their rockets that destroyed the couplings that held your train together without blowing it up in the process.'
For the first time Morrow looked at the people who had dragged him out of his coach. He was surprised to see that both were women and quite good looking ones too. One had long chestnut curls, the other was a straight blonde. They wore a pilot's garb, goggles and all, something the conservative government of the People's Collective firmly disapproved of. A womans place was in her home after all, not in the cockpit. The tallest, the one with the brown hair, had a gun aimed at him. She winked.
'Hi,' she said.
'Mind if I take a peek in your coach, while you're busy anyways?' asked the other frivolously and slipped back inside. Sounds of crashing furniture and shattering crystal soon followed.
'The others,' continued Jason, 'simply covered them by strafing the armored coaches. First we cut the coaches behinds you loose, then yours. After that, we simply let them all roll back down the hill, threw a switch to sidetrack your coach and stopped it here at this abandoned train station. It gave us just enough time to park our planes in the field behind us. And to see us safe, we receive protection from the heavens. Just like you, only slightly more efficient.'
The councilor looked up and saw two combat planes circling around high above them, their engines buzzing like angry bees.
'We should have some time to ourselves before they find you again. That's if they find you again. It's up to you, really,' said Jason, his tone neutral. 'Time to answer my questions. I already know you're harboring Red Russians in the Collective, but I want to know where they are.'
Morrow returned his gaze back to the pirate. He looked miserable.
'You will be punished for this,' he said. 'That train was property of the people.'
'Are the people also loaded with caviar and bourbon?' called Margaret from inside the coach. She made her way outside, her arms full of black labeled bottles and red labeled cans.
'I'll just put this in the trunk, shall I?'
'Care to answer my question, councilor?' asked Jason again, when Margaret was gone.
'"And the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not,"' said Morrow.
'Neither of us has the time to fool around, councilor,' returned Jason, his voice now void of any sympathy or light heartedness. 'Where are those Russians?'
'I do not know what you are talking about. The People's Collective has severed all ties with Russia, as they are atheists. Folk who do not recognize the Lord as their true master are not welcome here. A vision of all property belonging to the people is all we have in common.'
Margaret came back again, this time clutching a steel reinforced case the shape and size of a small treasure chest.
'Look at this,' she said as she dropped the case on the bench next to Jason. It was filled to the brim with unmarked gold bars.
'I guess you were keeping this property on their behalf?' said Jason, 'Well, let me keep on your behalf then. Now, I know what you want from the Russians, but what I can't figure out what it is that they want. Enlighten me, councilor.'
'"Our truth hurts the enemy",' replied Morrow. He eyed the case anxiously, but kept silent.
Jason smiled and shook his head. 'Don't you mean: "Nasha pravda vragu glaza kolet."?'
He got up and stood in front of the smaller man. 'A typical Russian propaganda slogan. You give your secrets away too easily. Didn't you know I speak a bit of Russian? Picked up in China, when fighting the same pesky Bolsheviks you're protecting now. They aren't here for a loaf of bread and some corn on the cob, are they?'
'"For each man's ways are plain to the Lord's sight; all their paths he surveys; By his own iniquities the wicked man will be caught, in the meshes of his own sin he will be held fast; He will die from lack of discipline, through the greatness of his folly he will be lost",' muttered Morrow, a forced sneer cutting across his face.
'Nice quote. Yet if I were granted omnipotence, and millions of years to experiment in, I shouldn't think Man much to boast of as the final result of all my efforts, wicked or otherwise. Now I'll ask you one last time, councilor, for my patience is wearing thin; where are those Russians and what are they doing here?'
The leader of the People's Collective trembled and shook, yet he clung to a last shred of defiance.
'"For he bringeth down them that dwell on high; the lofty city, he layeth it low; he layeth it low, even to the ground; he bringeth it even to the dust."'
'Goddamnit, that does it!' Grabbing Morrow by his collar, Jason lifted him a foot off the ground to meet his eye. The man looked as if he was about to lose control of his bladder. They were interrupted by crackling static from a radio before Jason could continue. It followed with a panicky voice yelling half English, half Russian. Nora slung the bulky portable radio from her back and talked excitedly into it.
'We're in trouble, Jason,' she said, the color draining out of her face. 'The Damocles is under attack! It's the Bolsheviks!'
As if that wasn't bad enough news, Margaret barely stifled a scream, pointing towards the distant hills. A contingent of soldiers on foot crested the summit and, seeing their leader in the distance, doubled their speed.
The leader of the Firebirds stared at them for only an instant before dropping Morrow like a sack of potatoes. The man wobbled and fell onto his hands and knees.
'To your planes!' shouted Jason, 'Radio the rest and get your asses back to the Damocles!'
The twins ran like mad towards the field where their planes stood waiting. When Jason turned to follow them, Morrow grabbed his trouser leg. He was on his scraped knees and his eyes were on the verge of tears.
'You're - you're not going to kill me?' he gasped.
'Never had the intention, dear fellow, but don't tempt me,' said Jason as he used his other foot to boot the man away from him. '"I'm sorry to see you here, but if you'd have fought like a man you needn't run like a dog." And that's a pirate quote.'
As Jason ran for his own plane, he heard Morrow screaming after him, crazed with panicky relief.
'"Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the alter, and hurled it on the Earth! And there came peals of thunder! Rumblings! Flashes of lightening! And an earthquake!"'
The ominous words hung in his head for a short time, but soon ebbed away, drowned out by the torrential howl of Devastator's engine. The Shady Lady roared off the ground and streaked towards whatever peril the Damocles was in.
