AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It is one of the reasons I sail the Windkraft. When Herr Von Krebs does not need her, she is mine to sail at will. As long as I am careful. I am very careful.”
“One of the best sailors on the Baltic,” Von Krebs replied in agreement. “I am glad you are acquainted with my captain. It is all the confirmation I need that you are who you represent yourselves to be. I was not expecting such an intriguing party. Though I should not be surprised, being Americans. You never can tell with Americans. And our large hairy ally who carries the bags.”
“He’s the representative of the Kentucky Alliance.” Valentine flared. “You’ve probably heard of him. He was involved in the Coal Country revolt. I believe the international newscasts from the Baltic League mentioned him more than once.”
Leave it to Valentine, Duvalier thought. I’ve heard of a girl in every port, but one in every ocean? That’s a little hard to swallow.
“We must have drinks tonight to celebrate this reunion. I did not think you American soldiers lasted like this. I am very pleased.”
“Good God, Valentine!” Duvalier sputtered. “How far do we have to travel to run into a woman you haven’t been with?”
“Is she yours?” Stepanek asked. “You misunderstand our brief acquaintance, my girlfriend.”
“She’s not ‘mine’ in that sense, Captain,” Valentine said. “She’s my partner—comrade. We’ve worked together many times.” He gave her the what the hell are you doing? look, which further infuriated her.
Emotions she couldn’t quite control needed an outlet. “You’d think a few thousand miles and we’d be in uncharted territory for the legendary cocksmanship of David Valentine, but you’d be wrong, wouldn’t you? Where do we have to go to meet someone you haven’t penetrated? Beyond the Great Wall of China? Pitcairn Island?”
She regretted the words almost instantly. It was one thing to joke with Valentine in private, another to lose her temper in front of the delegation and a group of Baltic sailors. “Redhead crazy woman,” they were probably muttering under their breath. Even those who couldn’t speak a word of English must have known something about Stepanek and Valentine aggravated her.
“Calm down, Ali. We met once, on Lake Michigan. No joke, she was on a ship that had to take Southern Command dispatches to other freeholds.”
“I was there to try to track down some art from the museum in Chicago,” Stepanek put in. “We were not lovers; there was no time.”
Really, neither of them owed her an explanation for anything. She’d made Val angry and the rest of the party from both freeholds was staring. Except for Ahn-Kha, of course, who’d suddenly taken an interest in how the dinghy was being stored on a sturdy davit at the stern.
“I’m sorry. Cooped up too long.”
The food on the Windkraft was some of the best she’d ever eaten, though the cook favored dishes that could be prepared in a big stockpot or roasting pan. The first night out they had a sort of very tender beef stew served over an exotic rice. The flavorful meat and potato and vegetables needed only the slightest touch of the edge of a fork to part. Von Krebs apologized for not having fresh bread to go with it; they “made do” with wonderful buttery crackers and pieces of biscuit with garlic butter. And wines, beers, and spirits. While Sime spoke about the wine with Von Krebs and recommended a selection, Valentine stuck with the milk they’d been offered with the tea, Ahn-Kha had apple cider, and she sampled the “Baltic tea.” While she had drunk tea and coffee often enough in the past, usually it was just to get the warm heat-calories inside her. The bracing tea Von Krebs had acquired was a real pleasure to enjoy, especially in the manner he recommended, with a little German honey and lemon (“All the way from Greece,” Von Krebs boasted).
“Do you always live this well here?” Sime asked their host.
“I keep myself well stocked with luxury items. It greases the machinery of the ports, both Kurian and of the free Baltic League. Would anyone care for a cigar? They are Spanish, but I’m told they are very good.”
She spent the first night out of Kiel, a glorious evening in the mid-Baltic, chatting with Postle. The after-dinner habit that had begun with the cycling team continued in compact folding deck chairs made out of canvas and wood, and they put their feet up on the taffrail and watched the wake of the ship fade into the calm summer water.
He talked a little about his boyhood in Missouri. He’d grown up near Grog country, in the midst of the raiding and counterraiding of each other’s homes and livestock. He lost his father on a “hut burn” and two uncles defending their own barns against Grog warriors out to make names for themselves. Like Valentine, he’d sought solace in books. He loved westerns, with their simple heroes who tried to stay out of conflicts until pushed one too many times just a little too far. Unlike Valentine, he’d
been raised among throngs of family, mostly women, with several widows like his mother.
He extracted a silver cigar case from his “duty vest,” which held a little bit of this and that a bodyguard might need. It had some simple filigree around the edges.
“Belonged to the Earp brothers. Wyatt Earp—ever heard of him?”
“Most folks brought up in Kansas have,” she said.
“This belonged to him and came down through his family, according to the guy I bought it from.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“It came with a certificate, but about all the certificate proves for certain is that I paid three hundred dollars for it. Still, it’s old, it’s nice-looking, and it makes a good story.”
“You must like cigars. Do you keep a few expensive ones for special occasions? I don’t remember seeing you smoke a cigar.”
“Nah.” He opened it up and extracted a little sheaf of pictures and a news clipping kept in a waterproof plastic bag. There was a little bag like a sugar packet that said DO NOT EAT.
“Poison in case of capture?” she asked.
“Ach, no. That’s just a little sand to suck up moisture, just in case.”
