Dead Men's Tales (Tales of the Brass Griffin Book 5) (7 page)

Tonks frowned while he casually seemed to take in the scenery, “not so much a twitch.” Suddenly, the corners of the pilot’s mouth turned up in a sly smile. “Ah, then again. Oh, he’s a clever bugger, that one.”

“What?” The doctor asked, starting to turn around to look.

Tonks subtly tapped the doctor on the elbow to stop him. “No, don’t look. Last we want is for him to realize we’ve found his hiding place.”

“How do we know he’s watching us?” Thorias asked. “He could just be watching the ship, or any of the ships along here.”

Tonks stuffed his gloved hands into his coat pockets. “Just a feelin’. He’s got himself tucked back between some crates and the shadow of a warehouse. He’s a thin bloke, almost gangly. Nothing too remarkable, looks like he’s just standing about, waiting for his mates or just passin’ the day by. The way I figure it, he’d be warmer over in that patch of sunlight and out of that cold shadow, not to mention I caught him glancing our way.”

The doctor nodded ever so slightly, then resumed lounging against the railing. “Surely he sees us, how will we get off the ship?”

“Its for sure he’s seen us by now,” the pilot admitted, his thoughts turning rapidly like a well-oiled clockwork drill. Tonks’ eyes scanned over the boardwalk where small, scattered groups of pedestrians walked briskly on their way in the chilly air. 

Suddenly, the crash and clank of metal caught his attention. To his left, on the dock where they were moored, a team of five men were unloading a stack of lumber and crates from a neighboring cargo ship. Amid the men lumbered a C.A.S.S., or Clockwork Augmentations Suit, a dangerous device resembling the nightmarish brass and steel skeleton of giant.

Sitting inside the ribcage of the vehicle, bundled up in a warm coat, a dock worker was strapped by his arms and legs to the corresponding
limbs of the device. Casually, the worker flexed his own arms
and in turn the device responded, pulling the crate to him. Then with expert control he flexed his legs, causing the ungainly vehicle to turn neatly around without toppling over. Once he faced the boardwalk, he began his noisy trek to deliver the crate where others like it had already been placed.

As the clockwork-powered skeleton lumbered away, a steam-powered loading crane trundled up in its place on spidery metal legs and squatted down. Officially sold under the name ‘Multi-Articulated Ambulatory Crane’ – or MAAC for short – it was a common fixture where cargo ship’s moored. Once the MAAC had settled into place, a gaunt dock worker with a handlebar mustache reached down to manipulate a pair of levers
on the back of the device.

No sooner had he done so, a metal hatch popped open allowing a long metal arm that ended in a metal, vulture-like claw to rise up and extend. Using this, the man was able to pick up a bound stack of lumber from the cargo ship and deposit it onto the pier.

Tonks turned and grinned at the doctor.

Thorias raised an eyebrow, “you’ve an idea?”

“Close enough to one. We’ll just blend in,” the pilot replied, pushing away from the railing, “follow me.”

“‘Blend in’?” Thorias echoed, staring at Tonk’s retreating form in amazement. “We’re on an ice cold dock, three miles above the North Sea. Blend in with what? Icelandic gulls?”

When the pilot’s only answer was another grin, obviously meant to be reassuring, the doctor rolled his eyes and quickly fell in step.

The pair made their way down the gangplank, then onto the dock proper. Thorias stopped once he reached the bottom, but Tonks kept walking. He kept his brisk pace until he reached the knot of workers.

The five men only briefly glanced at Tonks, preferring to remain engrossed in their work of unloading the lumber. Without a word, Tonks hefted one end of a stack of boards, and a charybdian man, bundled up in a heavy woolen coat, grabbed the other.

Dr. Llwellyn quickly joined the group as Tonks and the dock worker shifted the boards to their shoulders for ease of carrying.

“Grab some boards Thorias, lets give these lads a hand,” Tonks said cheerfully. “Better to get ’em out of the cold.”

Thorias glanced at the growing
 
stack of wood, then back to Tonks as the full implication of the idea around ‘blend in’ dawned upon him.

“Certainly. It’s not fit for man or beast out here,” the doctor admitted, squatting down to grab the end of another stack of wood.

One of the dock hands, a burly man topped with a bright orange-yellow woolen cap and wrapped in a woolen great coat grinned broadly, “Aw, its quite all right ‘guv. Ya get used to it. We appreciate the help, though. Me name’s Henry.”

The doctor smiled, “well, it’s pleasant to meet you, Henry. I’m Thorias.”

“Ready?” Henry asked.

Thorias nodded, and the two men lifted the ten-foot long boards, carrying them in tandem to the end of the dock. As Henry and Thorias dropped the lumber onto the growing stack of wood, Tonks, who was standing nearby, glanced over his shoulder towards the shadowy corner where he had
first spotted their observer.

Unfortunately, a stack of crates blocked the pilot’s view of the man that had been watching them. Henry walked past Tonks to the end of the dock, just out of earshot, leaving the two alone for a moment.

“One trip, maybe two, ought to take care of it,” Tonks admitted to the doctor, “then he’ll be bored enough to stop watching.”

“Just what are ya two blokes playin’ at?” Henry asked suspiciously, catching them both unawares when he walked over to them. “Like I told ya, we appreciate the help, but it be as plain as the sun above that yer both dealin’ in a bit of mischief.” Henry folded his arms over his chest. “So, out with it, or I get the dockmaster.”

W
hen Tonks hesitated to answer, Thorias jumped in with a quick explanation. “We’re looking for a young lady we know, Henry. She is my … ward … and you see, she’s quite lost. Possibly run afoul of some rather unpleasant chaps. After all, she’s no more than ten, for heaven’s sake!”

Henry’s face darkened considerably. “Ten, ya say? This is no place for a girl her age. If she’s here, then it’s one of them bloody damn smugglers again that brought her up here.”

He jerked a calloused thumb at his chest. “Got four girls of me own down landside. I’m only up here working the season for some extra money so’s I can send the oldest to a proper school. You just say the word, and ol’ Henry here will round the lads, and we’ll set a few things right! Wouldn’t be the first time. Bet it won’t be the last!”

The doctor extended his
hand with a smile. “We may take you up on that. In the meantime, we believe one of those smugglers is watching us.” With a glance and a brief nod, Thorias indicated
past Henry’s right shoulder. The direction towards the dark corner where the suspicious thin, gangly man stood intently watching the
Griffin
. “We think that’s him in the shadows past the crates ten yards behind you.”

Henry instinctively looked over, then looked back with a bear-like grin. He flexed his muscular hands, “Oh, is he now? Easy enough to fix that.”

Before he could move, Tonks interrupted, “Hold it now, we can’t go lettin’ on we see him.”

“Ah! Right, it’d might make it harder to get the luverly lady back safe,” Henry said with a bold wink. “Well, I’ll pass the word with the lads, and we’ll keep an eye out. In the meantime, scurry off along the boardwalk here. You’ll be covered by crates for a good dozen paces or so. In the meantime, the lads and I will cook up somethin’ better for the bugger to look at.”

As Henry strode off down the pier, Tonks glanced over his shoulder, looking around for anyone else that might be watching them. Satisfied no one was, he looked back at the doctor. “This is exactly why I don’t play Liar’s dice with ya. Ya took a great big chance there. We don’t know if we can trust him one whit.”

“Gut feeling,” Thorias replied. “Just a gut feeling we could. Like the captain often says, ‘trust your instincts’.”

Unconvinced, Tonks watched Henry suspiciously for a long moment, then shook his head in dismay. “All right. Well, if we’re to trust him and whatever he’s plannin’, we’d better do as he suggests.”

Quickly, the doctor and the pilot ducked behind a long stack of crates as suggested. Just as Henry foretold, the stack was rather long, running for at least forty paces down the curved boardwalk. The wall it created was easily seven feet tall, obscuring their view of anyone who might be watching them. However, it likewise concealed them from the view of anyone who might be looking.

At the end of the row, Tonks waved a hand for Thorias to wait. The pilot eased out, looking as if he was just someone wasting time. All the while, he was watching out of the corner of his eye, keeping that same shadowy corner as before within sight.

There in the gloom, the thin, gangly man still stood. Only now, he was much more animated. Frantically, he looked out at the dock where he was obviously expecting Tonks and Thorias to be. On not seeing them, he moved away from the corner and into the sunlight for a better look.

Suddenly, from back the way they had come, shouts of alarm cut through the air as a gout of hot steam erupted like a geyser. Thorias looked back to see Henry, accompanied by the four other dock hands along with the man inside the CASS. They had surrounded the spider-legged, steam-powered cargo winch.

From the top of the winch, steam blew out of the engine’s boiler with a furious hiss, immediately cooling into fog-like, snowy clouds. As the fog rapidly descended upon the dock and boardwalk, the cluster of dock workers stood huddled together, deep in conversation about what needed to be done.

The doctor chuckled, “I think we can trust them.”

Tonks, who was still watching the thin, gangly man several yards away, made a wry face, “for our sake, I’m hopin’ so.”

Just then, the white cottony cloud of chilled steam blew across the boardwalk, obscuring Tonks’ view. More importantly, it obscured any view of Tonks and Thorias from across the boardwalk.

“Time to go. That won’t last long out here,” he said curtly. The two men walked briskly out from behind the crates, proceeding along the boardwalk to put as much distance between them and the
Brass Griffin
as they could.

Several yards and many quick steps later, the pair slowed their pace. Tonks looked around. The area of the boardwalk they were in was not that much different than the one they had left. The buildings sitting on the edge of the boardwalk neatly followed the circular curve of the station. Brightly colored awnings were fluttering in the icy wind. People briskly walked along, either carrying packages or looking as if they might purchase something from one of the few available shops.

Out in front of the stores, the wide boardwalk separated the buildings from the regular appearance of a dock, thrust out into the cold, crisp air. Ships of many different kinds were berthed in many of the docking slips there. From where the two crewmen from the
Brass Griffin
stood, they could see at least ten ships, if not more. All of them were easily large enough to carry the entire compliment of kidnapped passengers from the
Fair Winds
.

“I say, we have our work cut out for us,” Thorias admitted begrudgingly. “Any idea how we’ll find anything in all this?”

“Luck,” Tonks said with a wry grin, “and a lot of walkin’.”

“Brilliant,” Thorias replied, not quite as amused.

Tonks flexed his gloved hands as the cold tried to seep in. “Well, lets be thinkin’ this through. Other than the people he’s taken, there’s the matter of that cargo he pinched.”

“Not that we’re quite sure of what he did take,” Thorias replied, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets to warm them.

The pilot nodded, then shrugged in resignation, “Ya have me there. But he took some things, so he’ll want to offload them,
 
I’d think. For no other reason than to buy fuel, food and such. We could check the crates that have been offloaded. One or more might still be stamped ‘for London’ on ’em? It might give an idea which ship is dealing what.”

Thorias looked at the long rows of crates stacked two and three deep on the cold boardwalk. All around them, sailors and station hands briskly worked, never being far from any for an amount of time. His sharp elven hearing suddenly picked up the snatch of a conversation, too soft for Tonks to hear.

“Best dried meats imported from the Continent, Ah tell ye!” Growled a voice from a nearby shop. “Fish, fresh off the boat! Salted pork!”

The doctor looked around, smiling when he saw the sign for a butcher’s shop. He nudged Tonks.

“Or, instead of slaving away like some steam-powered automatons out in the cold,” Thorias explained, “we can go check with the butcher and at other similar shops. There can’t be that many.”

“And what? Just ask?” Tonks replied skeptically.

The doctor bowed slightly, with his best thespian air, “why of course, my good man. After all, my young ward is lost, and she might have sought refuge in such a place.”

“The meanin’ of ‘discreet’ is lost on ya, isn’t it?” Tonks asked irritably.

“No,” Dr. Llwellyn admitted, “but I’ve a clearer understanding of the word ‘imperative’. It’s cold out here. While those poor people languish in Clark’s hold – wherever it is – they are out of the elements. Angela isn’t. If speaking to the grocer – thereby risking a knife in the back – ensures we find her alive instead of frozen dead or worse, then so be it!” 

A
gray, cold specter of weather encroached upon the station over the next few hours. Wraith-like clouds paused in their churning approach to slowly, silently regroup into a single, large cloud bank. Once reformed, it resumed its relentless advance; a juggernaut heralded only by an unforgiving cold blast of wind.

Blissfully unaware, the small butcher’s shop sat quietly as it always did on the western side of Port Signal between its tall, metal-shod siblings. The little shop was a small, narrow building dressed in black paint that was cracking and flaking away from the embossed window frames and weathered wood.
 
Two prominent store front windows, braced by a pair of stout wrought iron banded shutters, reflected the cold blue sky and ghostly clouds overhead.