Part Two – Terms and Conditions

The cops in Trenton know me. I heard they have a running pool on how many dead bodies I'll run across or how many cars of mine will get blown up in a year. They share information with me when they can and usually look out for me. Norrington was a whole new experience.

We sat there in silence for a really long time while he stared at me. I'm not good with silence. Nobody from the Burg is good with silence. We're all about big hand gestures, screaming matches and breaking dishes. The silent treatment? Not in the Burg.

"How stupid does Mr. Sparrow believe me to be, Miss Plum?"

I liked it better when he gave me the silent treatment. "Huh?"

Norrington leaned forward and focused his stare on me. It was the kind of stare Morelli used at work when he interrogated a suspect. I never had one of those stares directed at me. Until now. "I am aware of only one shipment of coffee that was intercepted from its destination, some six months past. I am also aware that the ship carrying this coffee was raided by a pirate ship matching the description of the Black Pearl."

Of all the things Sparrow warned me about, you'd think he might have mentioned this. I smiled weakly. "Really?"

"Yes. Really." Norrington's gaze didn't waver for a second. "Does Sparrow expect me to believe this fairy tale of opium smuggling he's concocted in order to ransom the coffee back to its owners?"

Uh-oh.

"Think carefully, before you speak, miss. Every word allies you with a known pirate and threatens to incriminate you as a pirate yourself."

Double uh-oh. "I'm not a pirate. I'm a ---"

"Bounty hunter," finished Norrington. "A disgusting lot of scavengers are bounty hunters, particularly in these waters. To my knowledge, there is not a woman among them."

"I'm new in town. I was working in the Colonies, in New York." Fortunately for me, the British controlled New York after 1664. At least, according to Sparrow they did. My knowledge of New York history that didn't involve the Rangers hockey team was pretty sparse.

"Continue."

"I work for my cousin, Vincent Plum."

"And how did you come to be involved with Sparrow?"

"Total accident. My ship blew up."

"It...blew up?"

I shrugged and told him the truth. "A skip threw a bomb at me and blew up the Explorer. Everything else is a blur, up until Sparrow fished me out of the water."

Norrington closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes again , he focused that formidable stare on me. Norrington's stare was good, but my mother's was better. "And then?"

"Grujters started a killing-spree."

"What?!"

"He killed four of the crew and then he tried to take me out. After I found the opium in the coffee beans. I think if we move fast, we can shut down a major smuggling operation."

"We?"

"Okay, you. Or whoever handles narcotics trafficking. The whole point is to get this stuff off of the streets, right?" He was still staring at me. "Come on, it's not like opium is legal."

"As a matter of fact, Miss Plum, it is."

Now it was my turn to stare. "Huh?"

"His Majesty taxes opium at a higher rate than say, coffee, which would explain why the distributor might seek to import it under less than above- board means."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"I assure you that I am not."

"You'll get around to banning it eventually," I shrugged.

"Perhaps." Norrington waited a beat before asking his next question. "What does Sparrow want?"

"He wants to get rid of the coffee."

"For how much?"

"He had some ridiculous number in mind," I confided, "but I told him it was evidence and he was better off just turning everything – French roast and opium – over to you."

Norrington blinked and then nodded. "I see."

"Besides, the coffee beans haven't been dried yet, so it's only a matter of time before they get all yucky from mold. I don't believe in wasting food. Or coffee."

"And yet Sparrow seeks to turn some sort of profit by turning over the Dutchman as well," Norrington pointed out.

"I might give him a cut," I admitted, "but I was the one that got shot at and ended up with coffee in my hair. Sparrow just lost a shirt."

Norrington's mouth worked but no words came out.

I took advantage of it. "Anyway, I got Sparrow to agree that I would negotiate the transfer of the remaining coffee and opium to you. One of the conditions is that you let him sail off into the sunset without trying to hang him."

"And the other conditions?"

"There you are, sweet cheeks! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

I suppressed a groan as Diesel let himself into Norrington's office. Norrington's jaw dropped at the sight of this unannounced visitor. Diesel was wearing his usual CAT boots, jeans and black leather jacket over a white T-shirt, his wavy blond hair tied back in a pony-tail.

"We're in luck, Steph," Diesel continued. "Well, sort of, anyway. Our buddy, John Junior, is here in the Caribbean."

"Who...what...," stammered Norrington.

Inspiration struck me. "Commodore? Is something wrong?"

"Don't you see him?" Norrington pointed at Diesel.

I shook my head and blinked innocently. "See who?"

"I take it this isn't a good time," Diesel commented, getting the hint. "I'll catch you back on your boyfriend's ship, cookie."

I pretended not to see Diesel go out the way he came in. "Commodore? The conditions?"

"Yes, yes. The conditions. I will allow Sparrow to dock and drop off the coffee, provided he leaves immediately thereafter. You will personally notify me of his arrival so that we can coordinate the transfer of goods."

"Great." I got up and turned to leave. "About my bounty –"

"I will have it when you return. Now..." Norrington was suddenly very pale, almost as white as his wig. "Please leave. I'm....I must rest."