Rebellious Cargo Read online

  Her head turned and he grinned at the blush that flooded her skin.

  “Good morning, Captain, I didn’t hear your knock…yet again.”

  “It was clearly audible, I promise. Can I be of service? You seem rather out of sorts.”

  She gave him a smirk. “I think not. These codes are highly complex.”

  Adam ignored the slight and walked to her side. “Perhaps I can supply a few qualities that you seem to lack. Patience, for one, and accuracy.” He flicked the paper ball into the bin with precision.

  Her eyes widened at his words before she gave a giggle that made his insides tingle. “Patience? You surely jest. If you only knew the hours I have poured over codes in my lifetime. As for accuracy” – she screwed up another piece of paper, aimed and deposited it successfully into the bin – “patience and accuracy, Captain, are a code breaker’s backbone.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “However, I gather you have made little progress with your task.”

  “No, unfortunately not.” Her shoulders slumped unladylike over the desk. Again he had to control his compulsion to sneak an arm around them to comfort her.

  “Perhaps your father did not intend you to be the one to unravel it. Perhaps it doesn’t mean anything.”

  Her head suddenly jerked up and she looked at him intensely.

  He waited for her to speak and then realised that she wasn’t looking at him as much as looking through him, deep in thought.

  “What is it, Jane?”

  “You are right.” She focused back on him, her eyes suddenly bright and animated.

  “It is something my father used to say. When there is no message where you expect it, there will be one where you do not expect it to be.”

  She paused, her mind silently calculating.

  “My father’s letter said I am the key to everything in his life that has been worthwhile. So if the mystery of this document is worth solving – and as it is in my father’s hand, I assume I must be the one who can unravel his last words. Yet I cannot find a message in the document.”

  She yanked the drawer of the desk open and spread out his letter. “There must be something here, something I’ve missed.” Her forefinger slowly followed each line of words.

  After another long pause Adam decided to leave her to her work. “I am going back to the Serena; it has returned to the harbour. I need to attend to unfinished business and work out how you were taken from my ship.”

  She glanced up. “Surely Crosby was the weak link. But then you never really believed that Crosby was the one behind my kidnap, did you?”

  “No! Although I think Crosby might have known who on board the ship was. Somehow the deck was left unobserved. Crosby would not have had the ability or the means to make sure the deck was clear enough for an abduction. I won’t rest until I have the answers to what happened the night you disappeared.”

  “I wish I could help, but I can’t remember anything after I came onto the deck. Maybe I should come back with you; something might jog my memory.”

  “No! It is too dangerous. You stay and puzzle over your father’s words.”

  “This letter really bothers me.”

  “Why?”

  “It is my father’s sentiments, but the words… I don’t know, they just don’t feel like the ones he would have chosen. You are the key. I am the key – to all that is worthwhile.”

  Adam watched her closely, unwilling to interrupt her train of thought as she studied the letter.

  “That is it!” She shot up and ran over and embraced him with an excited squeal. “Thank you, Adam. I have it – I do know the code he has used.”

  She dashed a hand to her forehead. "How stupid of me not to see it. I was so busy with the document I took the letter, like everyone else, to be just what it seemed. An affectionate last letter from father to daughter. Whilst all the country’s best code breakers have been pouring over the document, the key was in the letter. Childhood! It is all about the codes he taught to me in my childhood. All I have to do is figure out which particular text.”

  Adam was not arguing, but intensely aware of the pliant body in his arms and a soft sweet-smelling mop of mahogany hair buried under his chin. Whatever breakthrough he had unwittingly aided her with, he was very grateful. He placed a finger under her chin and turned it up towards him. “I have no idea what you are talking about, but I rather like the subject.”

  He bent farther, intent on capturing her lips, but she scuttled back just out of reach. Damn!

  She at least gave him an apologetic look. “I need to get back to work. I have been going about this the wrong way. You best go back to the Serena and I will update you on my progress when you return. I want no distractions, and you seriously impede my ability to think logically.”

  “I will take that as a positive attribute. One which I would dearly like to exploit.” With a sigh of defeat he turned to leave. “Shall I inform Cookson on this breakthrough?”

  She frowned. “Best it is kept quiet. I am sure I know the way to make this document talk to me, but I want to be certain before I raise his hopes. I don’t want to fail.”

  “No, of course not.” Failure is not an option with you, he thought, as he left her to her work.

  ***

  Celine had already kissed her life goodbye as the swirling mists of an incoherent world raged around and the water darkened into a sheet of finality. A last shudder coursed through her as something circled then bumped and nipped at her ankles. Then she was floating up towards the brightness.

  Her lungs grappled for air in a blinding flash of sunlight. Choking and heaving, her arms thrashed about, grazing against hard shingle. Something grasped her arm.

  “Ha! Thank goodness, Miss Celine. I thought you were about to become a fish supper.”

  Celine struggled to focus, not daring to speak lest the vision of the small figure would disappear. It wasn’t until the sun warmed her battered body that she finally recognised her rescuer. “Jake, you released me?” She looked at the boy in wonder.

  “I did – and it wasn’t easy. You are heavy, Miss Celine.” He stood beside her breathing deeply. “Captain Marston left me to search this part of the island in case you had got yourself in trouble. And you sure were in trouble. Another few seconds…” He shook his head gravely and stood, hands on hips, looking at the sea. She had often seen Captain Marston adopt the same pose on his quarterdeck.

  Jake turned back to her. “I dragged you out after slipping the chains off the leg shackle. You women sure need a lot of looking after. The captain was wise to recruit me.”

  Celine scanned the beach beyond the small figure. “Where is Captain Marston?”

  “He is busy looking after your friend.”

  Celine eyes widened. Jane! “He is with Mrs. Charlesworth?”

  “Sure. He had to rescue her first, of course – but that was a darned sight easier than this.” He gestured towards the cave, the entrance now shielded by the raging waves. “The captain took her back to Valetta hoping that was where you would head for.”

  Celine shuddered. “I thought she was dead. Harrow said she had fallen over the cliffs.” She reached out and grabbed the boy’s hand. “Oh Jake, you are amazing. I love you.”

  He screwed up his face as she turned away to expel another stomachful of sea water.

  ***

  Jane listed in her head the stories that she had used in her childhood to break the codes her father used to set for her. She had loved the challenge; it had been a great game between the two of them.

  Most likely it had to be one they both knew by heart – so she could apply it anywhere at any time. She took a breath as her excitement bubbled over. It had to be “The Shark and the Mermaid.”

  That was her favourite; the excitement inside her mingled with a tide of nostalgia. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the timbre of his voice changing as he took on the character’s dialogues as he read the familiar story to her.

  It was written in rhy
ming couplets and two pages long. It made sense that he would use that story – they both knew it by heart. Shaking with excitement, she took up her pen and started to write down the story as she remembered. She stopped to alter her words a few times until satisfied she had reproduced the story accurately. She took up the document Cookson had waited so long for her to decode and laid it out next to her transcript.

  The first line had a corresponding word. It meant nothing on its own, she then applied the childhood magic as her father had taught her and the word took on several other possibilities of characters and numbers. The message would be hidden for hours but she knew she was on the trail. As the night turned into dawn, Jane lost herself in her task as the rest of the world slid away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jane entered Cookson’s office the next morning with a step of excitement. Not having taken to her bed, she still had her clothes on from the previous evening, and had lost all sense of time. Her heart was racing. She had translated what she suspected could be map coordinates, but she needed a chart to test her findings. Her father had also written down a woman’s name, Rosa Santos, which meant nothing to her.

  Cookson threw her a surprised look as she approached his desk without giving his servant time to announce her. “Good morning, my dear.”

  Jane barely let him finish his greeting in her eagerness. “I think I have something, sir, I just need the use of your charts, if I may…” The words died on her lips.

  From the corner of her eye a movement alerted her of the presence of another person in the room. In her haste to talk to Cookson, she had assumed he was alone. A figure leaned forward and then rose from the wing chair angled to the left of Cookson.

  Jane cursed herself for her impulsiveness and smothered her enthusiasm in the face of the stocky stranger.

  “We have not been introduced, madam.” The man stepped towards her and Jane found herself looking into hard bright blue eyes.

  “Captain Harrow, at your service.” He executed a small bow.

  She studied the uniformed man. Captain Harrow – this was the man who had been sent to escort her from the Serena the night she disappeared.

  He continued. “I am glad to find you have been returned to us safe and well.”

  Jane was sure she had never met him before but something twisted low in her gut. That voice, there was something about the soft English west country burr, some seed of recognition.

  She bobbed the man a stiff curtsey, watching him from under her lashes. “Thank you, sir. I have Captain Marston to thank for that. He rescued me from my assailants.” She should not have been irritated or uneasy by Harrow’s presence but she couldn’t help it. It had been his men who had lost Crosby and, although he had not said so, she had sensed Captain Marston did not like him. Perhaps she was being unfair; after all, he was Cookson’s second in command. Or was it the usual trigger for her fear, that blue-and-gold uniform?

  “Have you any news of my companion, Captain Harrow?”

  “I am afraid not.” He stood hands clasped behind his back His thick eyebrows met in a frown. “I have been updated on your kidnap, Mrs. Charlesworth, and your encounter with Crosby. I feel responsible – he was in my officer’s care when he tricked them and escaped. But his body has been found, I understand, so he will no longer be a threat to you.”

  “No indeed. I sleep a little sounder knowing he is no longer pursuing me.” That voice – it bothered her – she couldn’t place it but she had heard it recently.

  Harrow smiled. “Captain Marston must be relieved there is no longer a traitor amongst his crew. Crosby must have been the one responsible for your abduction from the deck. Although, of course, there was some slackness of the watch to have allowed the whole incident to occur.”

  Jane raised her eyebrow. “There are still many unanswered questions, Captain Harrow. There is little I can remember about the evening, but I trust Captain Marston to get to the bottom of the matter.” There was no way this man was going to slight Adam, not in her presence.

  “Yes indeed,” Cookson agreed, as he re-entered the conversation. “Loose ends are always dangerous. So, Jane, what is your news?” He peered over the top of his spectacles.

  Jane cast a look at Harrow. Second in command he might be, but the man unsettled her. “No, it really is nothing important, Sir Robert. My progress is slow, I am afraid. I was just excited by the possible formation of a couple of numbers, but nothing significant. I wanted to borrow a few charts and reference books to assist me. I still have a lot of work to do,” she lied.

  “I am pleased you are making progress, however slow,” Cookson said, regarding her closely. “There is a small library of reference books in the study down the hall. Please feel free to use anything of use. I have to attend to some urgent matters down at the harbour that has just been brought to my attention. Meanwhile, I will leave you in the capable hands of Captain Harrow. Perhaps we can catch up on any developments this evening.”

  Jane tried to mask her growing unease. First Adam had left her, now Cookson. “I may have strung two words together by then. But it is complex.” She tried to make the next remark sound like a casual enquiry, but inside the question was tearing her apart. “Are we expecting Captain Marston to return today?”

  Cookson gave her an apologetic look. “I am afraid Captain Marston has returned to his ship. He is expected to sail very soon.”

  Her breath caught. Had he abandoned her again? Barely able to contain her sorrow, she turned.

  “I will leave you then, gentlemen. I have work to do.”

  Harrow’s probing stare troubled her as he stepped forward to open the door for her to leave. “If you need any assistance, Mrs. Charlesworth, I am at your disposal.”

  She nodded, desperately searching her memory. Where had she heard that voice?

  Blinking back her tears at the thought of Adam’s imminent departure, she made her way to the study that Cookson had indicated and collected a few charts and volumes then returned to her rooms. She might have translated the message but still had to figure out what it meant. When Cookson returned, she wanted to have a clearer picture of what the coordinates – if that is indeed what they were – could refer to. And who was Rosa Santos?

  ***

  Jane let the maid fasten her into a clean morning dress and quickly dismissed her. She heard the woman tidying her clothes away in the adjoining chamber and, impatient to be left alone, she called to her. “That is all, thank you. I will not need you for the rest of the afternoon…” The words died in her throat as she realised it was not her maid but Captain Harrow who appeared in the doorway.

  “Mrs. Charlesworth. I thought we could have a talk.” He came forward, shutting the door behind him.

  Then it hit her! That voice – she had heard it outside the house where Crosby had imprisoned her. Harrow was one of the riders that had arrived just after her escape. He was giving orders to his men whilst she lay crouched in the undergrowth. She had only seen silhouettes but the accent was unmistakable. In a flash of clarity she realised that Crosby had been working for Harrow. He must have arranged her abduction from the Serena just hours before he had come to formally collect her.

  His eyes held hers in a steady gaze as he approached. So this was the man who had gone to so much trouble to capture her. Was it possible the translation of this document discredited him somehow? And was Cookson a traitor as well – her father’s dear friend? Had he not just left her in Harrow’s care? Was there anyone she could really trust? She struggled to keep her face free of the terror tumbling inside her.

  “Why, Captain Harrow, I failed to hear my maid announce you. I presume your visit is of importance to enter my private chambers?”

  “It is indeed, Mrs. Charlesworth. Very important.” He stopped close to her. She resisted taking a step back, as he continued.

  “I want the translation of the document. And please don’t waste time telling me you have not already completed it. When you entered Cookson’s office you
were after charts – so perhaps you have discovered let us say…” He tapped his chin thoughtfully with one finger. “Coordinates! Ones which will lead to something which I am afraid belongs to me. But maybe you already know that by the suspicious way you looked at me at our introduction.”

  Jane’s mouth dried with the realisation that Harrow had command of the house. There would be no help for her – she had to use her wits. He shifted a step closer and she could feel his breath as he spoke close to her ear.

  “You were about to reveal your findings to Cookson, were you not? I think perhaps you should share them with me. In fact, I insist.”

  Her mind raced. Should she feign innocence of his treachery or should she just run? But it was already too late for that. The man who blocked her exit was powerful in build and his gaze looked brutal.

  “Why would I do that, Captain Harrow? Anything I translate is for Sir Robert Cookson’s eyes only. If he chooses to pass the information to you then that is entirely his decision, not mine. But as I have nothing to impart in the first place – ouch!” she cried as he imprisoned her arm and pulled her against him with such force that her head jerked back.

  “Don’t play with me, girl. I have a very short temper. You gave yourself away by requesting charts. I had suspected there were coordinates contained in your father’s document.”

  With his free arm he shuffled through the papers on her desk. “‘The Mermaid and the Shark,’” he muttered, before tossing it aside in disgust. Then he took up the notes where she had ringed and crossed out letters. He let them drop back on the desk with a grunt of impatience – it was just as unintelligible as the code itself.

  “You will give the finished translation to me now.” He held out one hand whilst his other tightened around her arm making her cry out with pain.

  “Leave me be, you can see I have not found anything.”

  “Very well. I shall have to find it myself then. I presume you have it on your person.”