Jack stared thoughtfully across the room at nothing really in particular. His wine glass was raised halfway to his lips, but he seemed not to notice it. Suddenly, his face hardened, and he put the glass down. Some deep instinct that every good captain commands had warned him that something was terribly wrong aboard his ship.

"Excuse me for a moment," he apologized to his guests. "I'm so sorry, but I think Killick forgot to make dessert."

It was a lame excuse, but the officers present sensed that something was troubling Jack and said nothing.

Jack burst out on deck and poked his head into the gunroom. The evening meal was progressing as usual there, and nothing seemed out of place. The hands saluted when they saw their captain and stared curiously at him-they all thought he had been at dinner. "Is everything all right?" Jack asked, looking around again.

More odd stares. Killick stood up with an air of exasperation and growled, "Is there anything more y'require, sir? At dinner, that is to say?"

Jack looked puzzled and was silent for a moment. "No-no, thank you, Killick. I was just..."

But what he was just never came to be. It was then that twin screams erupted from the hold, and chaos ensued.

Tom was discussing the advantages and disadvantages of carronades with Captain LeLupe when he heard shouts and yells from below. The officers present all leapt to their feet, grabbed their swords from the rack by the door, and raced outside. After a moment of hesitation, so did the French officers.

The hands had all spilled out of the gunroom and were surrounding someone who was trapped in the middle and obviously armed. Dirks, knotted ropes, and even dinner knives (seeing as they had just been eating) kept the captive at bay. Stephen, who hadn't been feeling well that day and had excused himself from dinner, was kneeling at Joe Nagle's side by the hatch leading to the hold and was helping him staunch the flow of blood streaming from his side. Mr. Lamb, who was unharmed, stood over them with a bloody dagger in one hand and was looking mad as a hornet.

Mowett took in the scene, searching for Jack, but his captain was nowhere to be seen. In this instance, Tom was his superior officer, so he turned to him. Seeing that Will was looking hopefully at him, Tom roared, "SILENCE FORE AND AFT!"

Quiet descended on the ship, punctuated by muffled noises from the captive in the middle of the crowd. "Right," Tom said, lowering his voice to a reasonable tone. "What is going on here? And where's Captain Aubrey?"

"Right here, Tom," came Jack's powerful voice from the back of the crowd. He had just emerged from the hold and was looking grim.

Tom was nonplussed. "Sir-what's going on, exactly?"

Lord Northshire, who had been hiding under the dining room table, ran out bawling, "What's going on here? Where are the Marines? Captain Aubrey, stop this disturbance at once! It's ruining my dinner, and all this excitement is bad for one's digestion."

Jack shot the ambassador a look of pure loathing that Northshire missed completely and said coldly, "A little late, Lord Northshire, I think. But let's find out what is going on here, and who the person is that the hands seem to have taken prisoner."

The crowd parted, revealing the veiled and masked figure that Nagle and Lamb had discovered in the hold. It appeared much worse for the wear, with its mask battered and its clothing torn. Still, it faced Jack defiantly as he approached it, drawing itself up to its full four feet.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded bluntly.

The figure stared at him neutrally as it answered, "An assassin."

There was a murmur in the crowd, and they all craned their heads to have a better look at the figure. It did not react. Jack looked startled.

"An assassin?" he asked. The figure nodded. "But...who were you after?"

There was not a trace of hesitation in the thing's answer as it said clearly, "Lieutenant William Mowett, an officer aboard this ship."

A collective gasp went up from the hands. Tom looked sharply at Mowett, who had turned deathly pale and ashen. The Second Officer swayed slightly, but kept his feet as he stared fixedly at the assassin.

Jack was stunned, but he continued his questioning. "And who hired you to kill Lieutenant Mowett?"

Now the figure hesitated. It said stiffly, "I do not give away that sort of information. You must pay me more than he was paying me to find out. Otherwise-"He whipped his dagger up to his throat. "I will die, and so will your answers. All it takes is one nick-this blade is poison."

Stephen, still tending to Nagle, shot a horrified look at his patient. He quickly called his assistant, Padeen, over and whispered frantically in his ear. The lanky Irishman took off for the sickbay at once.

Jack took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm. He licked his lips nervously and said, "That won't be necessary. How much did you have in mind?"

The assassin stared back at him, its eyes expressionless behind the beaked mask. "One thousand pounds. In gold."

There was another gasp from the hands, and the officers all had their mouths hanging open. The French officers seemed slightly confused, but they understood the depth of what the assassin was asking for. This was very serious. Captain LeLupe asked, ever polite, "It appears that your employer wants Lieutenant Mowett dead very badly. Do you serve our side, then?"

"Your side?" the figure scoffed. "The French? No. I serve a single person only-like my accomplices, I am no lover of Napoleon. However, I do not care who or what my employer is." Dark eyes glittered through the eyeholes of the mask. "If he or she is French, or English, I care not. I only care about what they pay. That is all I will say to you."

It sheathed its dagger in a single, decisive motion. Jack took a deep breath and said, "I don't have that kind of money, and I don't think anyone else on board does. If you wish, I can send you the payment after our next mission."

"Do I have your word?" the assassin demanded.

All eyes were riveted on Jack. To pay this much, just for information...

"Yes."

The answer was firm. Mowett let out a breath, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the dwarflike figure to nod once at Jack in thanks. Captain Aubrey returned the nod and raised his voice, saying, "Lieutenants, please report to my cabin. Doctor, when you have finished with Nagle, you may join us. Everyone else, carry on."

He turned to the French officers with an apologetic bow and a smile. "I apologize most profusely for breaking up our wonderful conversation, gentlemen, but I'm afraid this matter cannot wait. Perhaps you will join us tomorrow night?"

Captain LeLupe shook Jack's hand. "No, thank you. We'd better sail ahead and let the fleet know that you're coming. I understand completely about this assassin business-please, think nothing of it."

Jack smiled, a true smile this time. "Thank you, Captain. I expect we shall see each other soon." He turned and strode into his cabin, followed by the assassin.

Jack pulled out a chair for the assassin and it sat down, looking out of place in the dignified cabin with its terrifying mask and black clothes. Putting on a grave expression, Jack sat across from the figure that was causing so much uproar on his ship. His officers sat on either sides of him, but Jack did not introduce them. He launched into his questions.

"Who paid you to kill Mr. Mowett?"

Now the assassin answered easily, never hesitating. "It was a man named Joseph Buckley, who was visiting where I was staying. He tried to sound like he was English, though I caught the sound of a French accent."

"And did he tell you why he wanted you to kill him?"

The assassin shrugged. "He was very vague about it-kept muttering 'He knows too much, he knows.' Perhaps your lieutenant was involved in a crime venture. I've done jobs like that before."

Mowett looked indignant for a moment, but stopped before the figure caught a glimpse of his face. It wasn't a good idea to single himself out for a potential killer.

Jack, too, kept his face blank. After nodding, he spoke carefully. "What were his instructions? What did he tell you?"

Now the assassin hesitated. Despite the offer of gold, it was still wary with such information. "He told me where Lieutenant Mowett could be found, and the name of the ship that he was on as a second lieutenant. He said that he had seen him prior to contacting me, and he was sure that Mowett would still be in the same place, according to orders he had changed."

"He had the orders changed?" interrupted Jack. "But I thought Lord Northshire...unless Lord Northshire was the one who hired you?"

Veiled and masked as the figure was, it still gave off the impression that it was amused. "The fat one? Nay, he was not the man who paid me. I barely saw the one who did, but he told me he worked alone."

"Though he could have said anything he wanted," mused Pullings, eyeing the paid killer expressionlessly. After a moment's hesitation, he raised his eyes to his companions, gaze flickering between them for an instant for some sign of a reaction.

The assassin nodded agreeably. "So he could have. But that is not my business to know."

"Can you find out?" Jack demanded: a bold move indeed. "I mean...assuming we paid you?"

William spoke up for the first time, unwilling to have the captain spend any more money on his account. He was astounded by Aubrey's generosity already-the fact that he was willing to pay even more was touching, but Mowett's sense of honor went completely against such a favor. "I don't think that's necessarily legal, sir," he interrupted fairly. "I mean-!"

"Legal or not," the assassin butted in, brushing him aside, "I will do it. The law does not bother me."

Jack wasn't certain about this certain turn of events. He rubbed his temples-this was more Stephen's line of work than anyone else's. Suddenly, as if in an answer to his prayers, his friend opened the door and slipped inside, taking up a place beside him. He studied the assassin for a few moments, his face quite blank, before remarking, "You're injured. Excuse me, officers, but this man is hurt-I must take him down to the sickbay."

Wordlessly the dwarflike creature stood, nodding. Stephen returned the gesture and rose as well, and as he turned to open the door Jack caught a glimpse of his face. One eye casually fluttered closed in the tiniest of winks before the Surprise's surgeon swept out of the room after the assassin. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, knowing what he was about, and bade his officers good night. An intelligence agent knew best how to handle this-nothing more would be done tonight by the rest of the crew.

A/N: And so I'm back! Huzzah!

PLEASE NOTE-This was all (well, mostly) written a few months ago, and I became too lazy to carry on with it and post it. Sorry, I know I left you in my biggest cliffhanger yet...um...don't sue me? I like life?

So...prepare yourselves for a flurry of updates (I hope) that will only be brought on much after lots of nice reviews. I'm waiting...

Miss Flossy: Hmm...do the boyos know the guy's Venetian? And did I say he's Venetian? shakes finger Baaad, bad assumptions! (Lol) Well...they're all doomed, this guy may seem agreeable at the moment but he threatened dear William. Y'all know that can only mean bad things. So-the Pullings death stare?

Me: ((nudges Tom))

Tom: ((grins fanatically)) Okay...((stares scarily at Flossy))

Me: We need to work on that...you look like a sick cow. "Puppy eyes" is more like.

Tom: ((sobs))

Araniel: Aw, pooor Northshire...well, next chapter will be simply full of him. Sound good? Don't you just love LeLupe? He's awesome, huh? More of him to come too...and the "it in the hold"!