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“You there!” he shouted. “Land your craft immediately!”
Maria pretended she hadn’t heard, or hadn’t understood. “I’m sorry?” she mouthed, and pointed at her ears. “Too loud! So much wind!”
“Land this craft immediately!” he tried again.
“They want us to land,” Henry said, staring straight ahead.
“Thank you, dear, I heard them,” she muttered. Then to the craft, as loudly as she could, “I’m very sorry, we can’t hear you!” She trusted they’d get the gist.
They did, and it made them angry.
“Land the craft immediately! Right now!” And this time, he brandished a gun in a threatening fashion.
“I’ve seen bigger!” she yelled.
“Now you’re just antagonizing them!” Henry complained.
“Oh, they can’t hear a word I’m saying. Can we outrun them?”
He said, “I’m not sure. Maybe. Maybe not. ”
“Well, we can’t just land. They’ll kill us both, and that’ll be the end of it. ”
“I thought you liked pirates. ”
“They aren’t pirates,” she said with more confidence than before. “They’re mercenaries. ”
While the man at the window gestured with his megaphone and firearm, Maria lifted the spyglass again, to get a better look. Not at the man, but at the crates on the floor behind him. Something was stenciled thereon, and she could just discern the logo. “Baldwin-Felts. ” She said it like a curse.
“The detective agency? Something like the Pinks?”
“Nothing like the Pinks. ” She snapped the spyglass shut and stuffed it into her satchel, since that one was the closest. “Oh, all right, something like the Pinks—like a Southern version of the Pinks, with fewer morals, leaner pockets, and no problem with assassinating innocent bystanders. ”
“But people do say similar things about—”
She growled, “When the Pinkertons misbehave, they reflect badly on Chicago. The Baldwin-Felts reflect badly on Virginia. ”
“I see. ”
“How much ammunition do you have on you?”
“Look, there’s a megaphone in the back. If you can reach it, maybe I can talk some sense into them. I’m a U. S. Marshal, after all. They may think twice about—”
“They won’t. ” She held up one finger to the man in the other dirigible, asking him for just a moment while she rifled through her luggage in search of her gun. “They’ll just bury you deeper, and figure no one’ll find you ’til it doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve threatened us, they’re giving us orders, and they will shoot us down if we don’t land ourselves. That’s what the man’s gun means, Henry. When he waves it around like that, he’s telling us he’s willing to use it. ”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Henry said, jaw locked tight. “I’m clear on that. I just wonder if we shouldn’t have some kind of plan, apart from shooting first. ”
“I’m a pretty good shot. Better with a ball turret. Pity we seem to be missing one. ” Using her shoulders to shield the other ship from what she was doing, she checked her chambers, grabbed a fistful of bullets for future use, and took a deep breath.
“I can’t believe they’re just … waiting on you. To see what you’re doing. ”
“Men are trained from birth to wait on the whims of women. Even murderers expect it. ” She adjusted her goggles, looked back at the unnamed ship, and then at Henry. She leaned in close, so close that her breath warmed his ear. “All right, here’s what I’m doing: Our ship is smaller than theirs, we’re possibly slower than they are, and we’re outnumbered. Our only advantage is surprise, and I intend to cash in that advantage before it’s wasted. If you can fly as well as I can shoot, we might make it to our destination—and so far, you’re doing a hell of a job. So don’t stop now. ”
Before Henry could respond, she looked back over her shoulder. She saw that the man was getting impatient, but the window was still open, and he still hung halfway out of it—anchored by his feet somewhere beyond her view. She slipped her hand around the gun, put her finger on the trigger, and felt its gentle resistance against her glove.
She whipped out the gun.
Aimed in a fraction of a second.
