"I've had many a woman in my employ, if that s what you want to call it. Expecting me to recall all their names is a bit akin to counting drops in the ocean, mate. It is a rather sizable number."
Jack had to choke back the snicker as Beckett's eyebrows climbed higher and higher on his forehead. Grinning wolfishly, he gave Beckett a friendly clap on the shoulder.
" I guess you're not a eunuch after all."
There was only an insipid second, maybe two between the triumphant announcement of Anamaria' s name from Beckett 's mouth, and the sudden flash of silver before Jack's cutlass was at his throat. Beckett scowled disdainfully at the blade, but shivered inwardly when Jack allowed the edge of it to draw a trickle of blood at his heaving throat.
"Mayhaps the more relevant question is how you came to know that Anamaria was in my employ. Where is she?"
All trace of that foppish, quicksilver mirth had disappeared, as Jack's growled question slid between them, waiting. Beckett's bulging eyes swept from Jack s certain grip on his hilt to its arched path ending at his neck, and back again. Beckett gave Jack a cruel, serene smile as he merely sighed a calming breath, pausing before he spoke.
" She is not here, Jack"
The blade sliced in earnest now, as Jack lurched forward. They were inches apart, and Beckett could feel the unwelcome stench of Jack's breath as he snarled out, "Where is she?"
The confrontation was interrupted by the abrupt knock at the door, followed by Mercer's curt inquiry.
Jack hissed out, "The next words out of your mouth determine if ye live or die"
Beckett rolled his eyes, and blandly spoke to Mercer, "Mr. Mercer, bring Mr. Gillette from the brig to my chamber, alone."
There was a hesitation before Mercer answered, "Aye, sir." The footsteps retreated, as did the shadow beneath the door. Jack frog-marched Beckett flush to the wall, keeping him pinned there by the cutlass to his heart. "You're just bound and determined to provoke me into running my blade through your weasly little guts, aren't ye? I ll give you one more chance to save your sorry skin, mate. Where is she?"
Beckett only curled his lip in disgust and Jack startled at the sudden sound of the knock on the door, the odd sound of chains being scraped against the floor, and Mercer's cruel announcement.
"He's here, Lord Beckett, but I'll not vouch for his ability to answer any questions. The brig s made his reason questionable, sir."
"Thank you, Mr. Mercer. That will be all." Beckett answered smoothly, as he turned to Jack with an irritated gesture.
"I must be allowed to open the door, Jack, or Mr. Mercer will soon wonder why I ordered a prisoner to be brought to my chambers, and then left unguarded and alone at the hall."
Jack gave him a curt little nod, as Beckett rose and opened the door. Mercer's scarred, hated face emerged with its characteristic scowl as he gave the room a scathing glare. Seeing nothing amiss, he simply shoved his prisoner through the door, and shuffled off at Beckett s dismissal. Jack's jaw went slack and Beckett's merely twitched in annoyance at the filth that had entered his private quarters.
Gillette staggered forward a few lurching steps, heaving out the gurgled breath from the water in his lungs, his naval regalia in shreds over his mottled flesh. He looked slumped and broken; a far cry from the rigid, unyielding purpose Jack had come to identify with any military man. The bad arm had been rebound, but it hung useless and curled at his side in a ragged, make shift sling, his dark hair falling over his face, and his eyes nearly slid shut from the torpor of the brig.
Jack exhaled, clearly troubled as he recognized the former officer who had served under Norrington. The soldier was tense and trembling, his entire frame quaking so much, that he seemed to be on the verge of collapsing.
" Mr. Sparrow, may I present to you Officer Gillette. I am sure that you will find it pleasurable to converse with an old friend. Until very recently, Officer Gillette sailed under the command of Commodore Norrington. Sadly, their ship had the misfortune of sailing headlong into a hurricane, and subsequently sank, leaving only a few survivors, among them, Commodore Norrington, and Mr. Gillette."
The crisp, indifferent announcement complete, Beckett only savored Jack's head tilting in disbelief as he looked Gillette over, in shock. Gillette flinched when he felt Jack's eyes meet his, and he suddenly stiffened at the realization of who he was facing. Swallowing hard, his head jerked sharply, his eyes widening, as he breathed a disbelieving sigh.
"You!"
Jack recoiled, uncertainly, eyeing both Beckett and Gillette.
Gillette sucked in a sudden breath, shuddering as he reared back in the chair Mercer had dropped him. Jack. Jack Sparrow. He shot Beckett a shocked look, as Beckett only nodded in prim satisfaction at his obvious distress. Gesturing towards Gillette, Beckett announced,
"I believe that Mr. Gillette has the answers to the questions you seek, Jack. Have a care with your questions, though. He still seems a bit muddled from the ordeal of the ship sinking."
When Beckett lay a condensending hand over Gillette's wounded arm and squeezed, Jack recoiled when he heard Gillette's choked back whimper, and the quake of agony that gripped his already trembling body. Gillette hissed in pain, slammed his eyes shut, and tensed helplessly against the cruel grip. Jack snarled and lunged forward, flicking his blade over Beckett s wrist and drawing forth more blood.
"Hell's too good for ye."
Gillette blinked numbly as the sudden agony slacked off, as Beckett carefully withdrew his hand, and retreated coolly a few steps away from the enraged, undead pirate. Kneeling so he could catch the snatches of words, Jack leaned towards Gillette's bowed head. The man's eyes shot open, as he flinched.
What do you know of Annamaria, sailor?" Gillette's lip twisted in his teeth, as he stared at Jack for a long, long moment. Finally, he grunted out, "She and the Commodore set out on a clapboard dinghy in pursuit of you."
Jack did not miss the accusation, or the bitter, weary resignation from Gillette as he glared at Beckett.
"They left the ship a week ago, to the open ocean. I have not had word from the Commodore since we boarded the Antigone." Jack merely nodded, as the thoughts churned and new questions arose. He gave Beckett a cheeky grin as he tapped his cheek, thoughtfully.