Tears of the Moon - Di Morrissey [144]
The boy shook his head fearfully. ‘Ahmed say me no give key to nobody.’
‘Quite right. But that doesn’t mean me, Mem Tyndall. I have business to attend to. Now give me the key, I’ll just be one minute.’ She held out her hand and glared at him.
‘You give back one minute?’
‘Of course. Wait there.’ Amy hurried up the stairs.
She unlocked the door to Tyndall’s office, glancing around at the scattered gear, ropes, whisky bottles and rug thrown over an old chaise lounge. She swiftly riffled through the piles of papers on his desk but, finding nothing of interest, turned her attention to the safe. It would be difficult but the right skilled person could possibly pick the lock. She opened the desk drawers on either side, flipped through their contents, and took out a folder detailing pearl sales. She then pulled the centre drawer. It held a flat bottle half-filled with rum and a set of keys.
‘Mem? You there, mem?’
‘Yes, I’m coining down.’ Amy hurriedly slammed the door closed, locking it with the set of keys she’d taken from the desk. Smiling, she slipped the keys in her pocket and went downstairs.
‘I have locked the office. There is no need for you to go up there.’
‘Terimah kasi, mem.’ He put the key in his pocket and settled on the chair again.
The next message she received from Karl Gunther was an invitation for dinner. It was dark when she set out in the sulky he had sent for her. At the jetty, the driver helped her down and, without a word being exchanged, she followed him along the wharf past several dark boats to where Gunther’s red and black schooner was moored, a lantern burning on the mast. He appeared on the deck and helped her on board.
‘Wait down below, we’re going out into the bay. Tide is dropping, don’t want to get stranded on the mud. Always like to be able to make a quick getaway.’
‘Me, too. So what am I supposed to do? Swim?’
‘I guess you’re at my mercy.’
They anchored and the sole crew member made himself scarce.
Gunther poured himself a rum. ‘Only got rum.’ He poured a shot into a second glass and pushed a bottle of sweet lemonade to her. ‘Put some of that in it.’
‘It’s not my favourite drink exactly,’ said Amy. ‘But I guess the French champagne will come after I strike gold, eh? So tell me what it’s all about.’
‘Pirates, my dear, pirates.’
Amy paled. ‘We’re not going down that path, Karl,’ she snapped. ‘Ye gods, man, you could look like a pirate readily enough, but count me out of joining in your swashbuckling fantasy.’ She paused, thought for a moment, then cocked her head to one side and queried cautiously, ‘Or is it just the rum talking?’
Gunther threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘Ah, you’re a cargo of fun, Amy. No, we’re not going to become pirates, we’re simply going to do business with them.’ He reached over and topped up her glass with rum.
‘I was not aware that piracy is still a business,’ replied Amy, both puzzled and amused at the suggestion. ‘Do you mean skull and crossed bones on flags and all that sort of thing?’
‘In a way, yes. You see, my pet, in the Sulu Sea to our north, piracy is a way of life for some of the natives. Small boat stuff, but quite a pretty penny in it. Problem is they’re being out-gunned by an increasing number of patrol boats from colonial governments. And that is where we come in. Guns, Amy.’
‘Sounds dangerous,’ she said guardedly.
‘Not really,’ he responded with a dismissive wave of a hand and leaned back against a bulkhead with his drink. ‘The trick is to have better guns than you’re trading.’
‘Is there good money in it?’
‘Not money … gold. Much easier to dispose of and there’s no need to deal with banks that might ask questions. Besides, the Sulu Sea mob are rather keen on hoarding gold, so there’s no waiting around for payment. They’re willing to pay big money for the latest weapons, particularly some of the new American rifles.’
‘And where do we find a cargo of American rifles? At Streeter’s?’
Gunther roared again and slapped his thigh, almost choking on his drink. ‘Oh, you’re a card, a right good one you