I must apologise. I promised a speedy update and didn't deliver! I fell ill and everything came to a grinding halt. But anyway, this is where things really start picking up, so I hope you like the change of pace. If you don't like violence, this is the time to say adieu to this particular story. Thankyou to everyone who has been reading, especially to those who provide feedback. I do so love feedback.

~Chapter Nine~

The Spaniard's expression soured, as he kept his brow lowered away from the watchful glances from the surrounding soldiers. Out of the corners of his eyes he watched the anxious officers move uneasily in his presence. Resting his palms on the wood of the table, he immersed himself in thought. His eyes moved scantily over the outskirts of the map in a wasted effort to spark an idea as to where he might have any luck of catching the elusive Jack Sparrow. He felt drained. He had exhausted his efforts to find him; and no other criminal had ever managed to evade his extensive search missions.

With great restraint, he calmed his nerves. "Now, tell me the facts." He stated, as the whole of the garrison flinched at the sound of his voice. The man adjacent to the Spaniard piped up. His important stature was demonstrated through his opulently decorated uniform, with his feathered hat hiding the whites of his eyes; as only hints of blue shone through. "We have scoured the city, sir. Raided every ship, pub and likely hideout. We have troops stationed at every entrance to the town square; and have doubled patrols at ever major intersection." He specified proudly.

The Spaniard gave a grunt of disapproval; making the uniformed man uneasy. "You're not doing enough!" He bellowed in a sudden burst of rage, swinging his arm furiously, and knocking over several bottles as he did so. "With all due respect sir, we have searched everywhere-" The uniformed man continued. "Try the brothels!" He spat, as he brought his arms up to the sides of his face, shuddering as he did so. "We-we have done so, sir." The uniformed man began again, observing the Spaniard carefully in fright of another burst of outrage. "They proved most successful, sir." He continued. "How many men?" The Spaniard asked; his voice several decibels lower than before. "Twelve sir. Including whom we believe to be Jack Sparrow's first mate." This offered little consolation; nor relief for the Spaniard, as he greatly doubted he would know Jack's whereabouts.

If the Spaniard had been a better man, he might have given Jack credit for his preparation in non-detection. However, Jack's behaviour currently angered him. "What name did he supply?" The Spaniard knew full well the name would be a pseudonym, and knew his question would be rendered useless. It would be a helpful tag of identification nonetheless. "Billy Vandenbruck I believe, sir." The uniformed admiral appeared rather pleased with himself, remaining blissfully ignorant that this would not be his actual identity. "But still no news of Sparrow." The Spaniard raised his head a little, as the uniformed responded only by shaking his head. The Spaniard swore under his breath. He opened his mouth to begin to address the admiral, before he was interrupted by a guard who suddenly came running into the adjournment, and skidding to a halt, only narrowly missing jarring his hip straight into the corner of the table. The Spaniard looked in disdain at the man causing the sudden interruption. His hair was ruffled, and his breathing so laboured he had to lean on the edge of the table to stay upright.

"Sir." He started, before he started to lapse into a coughing fit. The Spaniard turned up his nose at the man. "Get him out of my sight." He gestured to the officers, as they took hold of his arms, as he fought desperately to be released from their grasps. "No!" He protested. "Sir, please. Please! Listen! I have information!" The Spaniard turned his back to the guard, but did not order the officers to usher him away. The man's desperate cries reverberated off the thick stone walls, and initiated him to hold the attention of the entire garrison. "What sort of information?" The Spaniard asked flatly, trying hard to subdue the hint of curiosity lingering in his voice. "About the girl. The girl with Jack." The Spaniard listened intently to his words, allowing a sly smile to creep onto his lips. The Spaniard turned around almost instantaneously. "How do you know this?" His tone was a mix of exhilaration and antipathy. His words dripped with contempt, as he demanded an immediate response. "HOW DO YOU KNOW THIS?" He ordered, insistence saturating the atmosphere.

The garrison remained in absolute silence. He beckoned the officers to bring the man forward. The Spaniard bore his eyes deeply into the guards'; and was most disgusted when the guard refused to break his gaze, only staring back just as harshly into the Spaniard's eyes. Irritation, rage and fury started to bubble up inside the Spaniard. The guard stared painfully back, as though strangely fixated on the Spaniard's expression. The corner of the Spaniard's mouth gave a slight twitch; giving the impression that he were about to laugh. In one sudden and surging movement, he raised his hand, and swept it forwards and caught the guard hard across the face. He did not cry out in pain, nor hide his face from the awestruck soldiers. The Spaniard was acutely aware of the fact he might compromise his mission if he did decide to throw the man out, and so was left with nothing but a harsh stare and a steady hand to generate physical force.

"This is valuable information I can give you. I can lead you to the Sparrow's refuge." The Spaniard was quick to raise his argument to the guard. "And it is your duty to Spain to divulge any vital information to your superiors!" He spat back in rebuttal.

It was the Spaniard's intention to remind the guard who exactly was the superior, although he could only too quickly realise the flaws of his plan. "Information that demands payment." The man replied slyly, knowing exactly his position, even if he was required to fight for it. The Spaniard's second bout of rage sent him hurtling to the floor with a sudden and volatile movement directed straight to his abdomen. Clenching his teeth to keep himself remaining silent, he quickly recovered rapidly. He brought his knees up to his chest to shield him from another blow, but none such came. The Spaniard approached him, standing over him condescendingly.

"If I tell you, I want my way with the girl." Despite the waves of pain emanating from both his cheek and his abdomen, the thought of control over the girl brought such a smile to his face; he failed to conquer a malicious laugh. The laugh echoed off the walls, through the garrison, and right into the Spaniard's eardrum. With a subtle smirk he only allowed the guard to see, he put his foot onto the hip of the man, and rolled his over onto his back. "That will depend on the usefulness of your information." The guard knew this was as far as he could bluff his way, and with a deep breath to stop the fits of laughter that resonated from his throat.

"He is hiding with the girl. The girl resides in the convent. The convent on the top of the hill." He lazily raised a finger in the appropriate direction, before resting his head down on the cold floor. With a wave of accomplishment beginning to rush over the Spaniard, his anger was long gone, Instead his emotions and intentions were of a much more sinister nature. "You have proved yourself well. Should this information prove correct, I shall grant you the honour of participating in our 'persuasive' operations." He gave a brief pause. "Your choice of methods." Turning swiftly on his heel, he signalled for the officers and soldiers to make haste towards the convent. "Men, move out!" He thundered, as the garrison filed out of the fort. The guard watched them go, as blood began to pour out from his nasal cavity. The admiral held out a handkerchief to the guard, as he accepted it tentatively. Holding it up to his face, as the blood rapidly soaked the material. "Clean yourself up." The admiral suggested, giving the guard a final sympathetic look before departing.

He lay on the stone cold floor, as the pain gradually echoed throughout every inch of his body. The blood dripped down his face and down his neck, staining his collar as it did so. His body was weak, but his mindset remained strongly fixated on the girl. That smile did not leave his lips, as he remained dazed at what pleasure he could illicit by the time evening came.

~End of Chapter Nine~

So there. I leave you to wonder about what the next chapter contains. That too, shall contain a considerable amount of violence. In case you didn't quite click, that guard was the same guard from chapter six who stopped Angelica as she fled from the town square. The admiral of course, is new to the story. Both characters will play a bigger role in coming chapters, so I hope they are to your liking, even though they are violent bastards.

Would you be so kind as to review? The story only goes on because of your feedback!