Chapter 2 And the wheels keep grinding
"And just how do you propose to find him?"
At least she was sitting now and ready to share a drink. When she did that, Jack knew he had half the battle already won.
"I've a plan." After a quick look around to ensure there were no eavesdroppers, Jack leaned in close and whispered the rest of it. "I'll ask someone where 'e is."
Not giving her a chance to respond, Jack stood up and surveyed the tavern once more. Smoke rose into clouds from several tables, and one of those tables in particular caught his interest. The only thing more popular than Caribbean rum was Caribbean weed, and both worked just as well as the other in loosening a man's tongue.
Glassy eyes and vacant stares identified who partook most of the sweet smelling drug, and Jack pulled up a chair and plopped him self down at the table. To their credit, the three men sitting round the table did notice Jack's arrival, but only barely. The least far-gone of the three, he wore a round cap with a white feather on the top, blinked owlishly and offered a lopsided grin as welcome. He was also the one to pull the small stash of herb away from the interloper.
"I recon'ize yah." The man drawled softly. "Ain't ya dead er som'ting?"
"Not since I last checked." Jack explained. Being recognised wasn't such a great thing given that the Navy posted a bounty; especially since most of the fine men occupying this tavern would likely sell their own mothers for half the price on his head. Jack felt he had a right to feel a mite paranoid in that respect, not paranoid enough to change his distinctive look of course, that would be too close to letting the bastards win. "Name's Smith."
Not original, but again, it was likely half the men in the tavern were named Smith for exactly the same reason.
The three at the table seemed content with the name, especially with a bag of coins now placed on the table between them. "Any of you gen'lemen know of a Morris Ettie?" Might as well get to the point quickly, seeing as he doubted small talk would be very successful with this bunch.
The men looked at the bag of coins. "We get some bits if we know o' im?"
Jack nodded and jingled the bag as incentive. "Not just know of 'im, but know where to find 'im."
"'E shared a room ov'r on Bandy Lane wit' 'is friend Sloan, last I saw o' im."
Jack nodded, that was where he just came from. "And now?"
"'E's dead now." The third man spoke up, and giggled a bit from the effort. After choking a bit on his next puff, he continued. "Won' be findin' 'dat one anywheres but in d'ground."
"Dead of what?"
The first one continued with a look of disgust. "Got ''imself a dose of 'is own med'cin is wot 'e did. Serves 'im right to for wot 'e done."
"An what kind of medicine is that?" Jack sat back and prepared his self for a game of twenty questions. Why was it when a man wanted information he received only cryptic riddles in response?
"Sloan 'ould kill us if we tells ya." The man leaned over and spat on the floor. "Go see 'im and let 'im kill yer ownself in stead."
Then again, maybe no so long a conversation if they clammed up on him. At least he now had another name to work with. "An' where could I be finding' Sloan?"
It took a while to get anything coherently agreed on by the three men so far as location was concerned. Either Sloan could be found in Russell's cane, or Ronald's game, or Russet Lane. Of the three Jack supposed he have most luck on Russet Lane.
Anamaria continued to glare at him as he made his way to her.
"Ready to go?" He asked.
"Back to the Pearl? Yes."
"Russet Lane." He snatched her arm and pulled her up off the chair. It took some work to get her out of the tavern, but she didn't fight as hard as she might have.
"What's on Russet Lane?"
Jack couldn't help but feel a little self satisfied at convincing her to follow along this far. "Sloan."
"I thought we were looking for Morris Ettie."
"An' Sloan knew, an' likely killed, Morris Ettie. Thus, he is the one we want to talk to."
That stopped her in her tracks. "Wait, the man you're searching for is DEAD?"
"Possibly." When she decided to hold her ground, Jack couldn't budge her. "'Possibly not. An' possibly 'e's not the only one. However, 'e is the only one who asked me for help, luv. Jus' cause 'e's dead, doesn't mean there's not'in I can't do 'bout it."
Reluctantly she gave in, again. "Do ya even know where Russet Lane is?"
The fog in the streets seemed to grow thicker the farther they walked. "Course I do." Jack answered. "Been 'ere more times 'n I can remember." Which translated to he couldn't remember ever being here at all, but he wasn't about to tell Anamaria that.
The lack of street signs wasn't a surprise, not in a neighbourhood where most of the population couldn't read.
"We could ask for directions. Someone around here'll know."
"I don't need directions." He turned left down the next alley and they nearly walked into a brick wall.
"You know exactly where you're goin'." Anamaria mocked.
He stopped, finally. "And you could do better, I suppose?"
Anamaria lifted her chin defiantly and stalked towards the nearest door. After a minute of knocking, the door opened a crack and an old woman's face peeked out. She held the door open just a slit; barely enough to stick her nose out and looked at Anamaria appraisingly. Her eyes caught sight of Jack after that and her eyebrows narrowed into a frown. "What you want?"
"Directions. Where is Russet Lane?" Anamaria asked.
The eyes shifted back towards Jack. "An who is 'e?"
"Do ya know where it's at or don't ya?" Anamaria pressed.
The woman shrugged. "Yer business don't concern me none. Russet Lane's attaway." She motioned back in the direction from where they'd come. "An' don' ye be tellin' no one I said so."
The door slammed before any word of thanks could be said. Not that any thanks would have been offered. 'Attaway' didn't exactly create a detailed road map for them to follow.
It took yet another half an hour to find the lane. It didn't take much to find Sloan after that, Anamaria asked after his name once, and they were immediately directed to the third rooming house on the left.
Sloan stood a head taller than anyone Jack had ever met. Big he may be, but Jack knew big seldom-equalled fast. Before any invitation could be offered, Jack slipped past and sauntered inside the room, leaving a trail of rain puddles on the floor.
The door slammed shut seconds after Anamaria likewise pushed inside, and Sloan looked none too pleased at the unannounced company. "Who're you?"
For the second time in one night, a record so far as Anamaria was concerned; Jack proceeded to get to the point as soon as possible. "Ever heard of Morris Ettie?"
"So?"
That could be a yes. "I'd be looking for him, mate. You know 'im?"
"What'cha lookin' for 'im for?" Sloan pressed.
"Owes me money." Jack explained while eyeing the small room carefully. Anamaria stood off to one side, and she watched Sloan flexing his fingers into a fist in repeated nervous repetition.
The room felt cramped with three bodies in it, and Sloan made certain he kept himself plenty of space for whatever might come next. "Good luck collecting money from a dead man then."
"Dead?"
"Aye, dead. 'E owed me money too, but not much to done 'bout it after the buckets been tipped."
"How'd he die?"
Sloan shrugged. "Owed the wrong man money, an' the right man come to collect." His teeth gleamed yellow and rotten when he smiled.
"Was into a new business was what I heard." Jack continued the conversation, but his inquiry was met only with a short laugh.
"Business eh?" Sloan bit a fingernail and chewed on it for a while before spitting it out onto the floor. "An' what kind'o business is this you heard about?"
"The profitable kind, which is of course, the only worth while kind. You wouldn't be knowin' anything 'bout that now would ye?"
The big man didn't answer, but Anamaria could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. Finally he answered, "I'll let you in on this, there ain't any laws against disposing of what's not alive, now is there? The trick is in finding useful goods for the right buyer."
"So it is in any business. But your business be dealing with people would it not?"
"Dead people." The man shrugged, but part of his demeanour changed. Obviously, he wasn't expecting Jack to catch what was said as quickly it was caught, and Ana continued to watch him carefully for any sudden moves. "An' as I've said. There ain't any laws against it."
"Not unless you'd be the one to guarantee the dead part, mate." Jack warned, but he grinned a moment later and leaned back against the wall. "But then what's against the law is only illegal if you're caught. People like us, we're just stretchin' limits, as it were." Jack considered the situation for a minute. "To make it worth while, you've got a constant buyer I imagine. A wealthy buyer, in need of plenty o'goods."
Sloan scrunched his face into a lump as he thought things through, but couldn't seem to come to any definite conclusion. "What you be getting' at mate?"
Jack grinned like the cat that caught the canary. "I'm thinking someone's going to be noticing a shortage of bodies after a while, don't you think? I'm thinking, maybe it's time you branched out to other ports somewhat, and I'm thinking I've got a ship that could help you out with that."
"It's a thought." Sloan answered. "How 'bout we meet tomorrow and discuss business then?"
Jack nodded his agreement and they set up a time to meet around noon at the Tavern near the docks. Then they walked out, back into the rain.
Authors note: I know its been a while since my last post… school and travel have interfered with my concentration, but I promise that is over with now. I mean, what comes first in life? Family, work, friends? No! It is satisfying the gremlin that is forever chewing a hole through my skull and urging me to write more and more and more, that is the priority.