The Adventures of the Crimson Blade 5

The Market Square at Pittsburgh Village, Two Months Later

Elizabeth sloved Christmastide at Pittsburgh Village. The marketplace was filled with so many sights and sounds! Her basket was filled with holly, greenery, and bread and pastries for the Inn's Christmastide dinner party.

It was such a beautiful day, most of the staff and residents of the Inn had opted to join at Pittsburgh Village's weekly market. Mackie and C.J were buying their meat. Maple had gone to get pastries and bread from the baker's cart. She was buying decorations for the Inn. While there were few produce carts at this time of the year, carts selling just about everything else imaginable, from local crafts to meats from the hog and cattle farmers outside of Pittsburgh, could be found on the streets

Lady Hilary's mind wasn't on the festivities. Elizabeth had insisted she come along, if only to get her mind off of Jeff. Hilary hadn't had a letter from him in weeks. Everyone at the Inn was worried, Lady Hilary most of all. They all remembered what happened the last time he was working in Boston.

“He'll be all right, Hilary,” Elizabeth said gently. “I'm sure of it. He's a big boy. He knows what he's doing. Besides, it's hard to get mail out of Boston right now, and there's all those brigands on the road.”

Hilary was only half-looking at the bolt of green velvet cloth spread across the table. “He said it would only be a few weeks, and he still hasn't come home.” She focused on the cloth, but her eyes were far away. “This is the first Christmastide we haven't spent together in five years. I miss him so much...”

“It must be hard for you.” Elizabeth sighed. “I miss...” She checked herself before she mentioned a man who was supposed to be dead. “I miss people, too.”

“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!” Scott Sherwood strode up to them, his red jacket and plumed hat standing out in the crowd. Elizabeth just sighed. Scott had tried to stick to her side since he took the job at the Inn. To give him some credit, he'd actually gotten pretty good at it, other than changing lines in the plays more often than Hilary preferred. He was certainly useful in the kitchen. The pots had never shown brighter. “How are the two prettiest ladies in Pittsburgh Village this morning?”

“What do you want, Scott?” Elizabeth knew him well enough by now to tell when he had some devious scheme in mind.

He put his arms around the two women. “Hilary, I just had a wonderful idea for that play we were doing today, 'The Hands of Time.' I thought we could get rid of all that boring romance stuff. I think what people want right now is a good, stirring story about politics.”

Hilary glared at him. “You leave my starring plays alone, you crafty, conniving con-man of a Sherwood! You're just a kitchen worker! You have no longer have any authority over me, no more than...than a pirate would have over a king!”

Maple, who was nibbling on Shrewsbury cakes from the baker's cart, joined them. “Someday, Your Ladyship, perhaps being a fancy lady will not matter so much, oui?”

Hilary finally threw up her hands. “None of you have any respect for my status! I am one of the Booths, one of the finest noble families in England...until we had to leave, due to...one or two dalliances I won't mention here.” She stormed off, towards one of the houses on the square. Perhaps a chat with her dear old friend Earl Giels of Aldrych would soothe her jangled nerves.

She had only gotten a few paces when she heard pistol fire in the square. She turned around...and ran smack into the barrel of a gun. “Not again!” she groaned. “What is with you men who continually insist on threatening my person?”

These men were hardly respectable publishers, though. They were hulking, grizzled sots in the striped shirts, tattered trousers, and grimy stocking caps of buccaneers straight out of illustrations in the penny press. “Well, hello there, baby cakes,” leered the tallest one. His hairy arms were long and ape-like, ending in a huge, heavy fist that held a battered pistol. “You look like a right rich bird, girlie.”

“GIRLIE!” She sputtered. “Do you know who I am?”

One of the pirates ogled her from behind. “You look like someone with a lot of dough to me.”

Two more were braying like a pair of exceedingly unattractive donkeys. “I bet she'd bring the boss a lotta money. She's someone they'd pay top dollar for.”

Hilary was starting to step back. “Now, gentlemen, surely you wouldn't want to hold me for ransom!”

She backed right into another one. He took her purse and pulled her arms behind her back. “I'm almost starting to miss Holstrom and his pistol. At least he smelled somewhat civilized. You reek of tobacco, limes, and old sweat.”

Hilary's eyes widened as another pirate joined them...but this didn't look like any pirate she'd ever seen. This “pirate” was tall, slender, and willowy. Her exotic dark eyes gazed at her under languid lids. She wore a tight-fitting red and blue dress and a cunning cap with a blue ribbon. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Her voice was a soft German drawl. “If it isn't Lady Hilary Booth herself, the former wife of Lord Jeffrey Singer.”

“Former?” Hilary snarled. “You watch what you say about my husband, you predatory river shark!”

“I'm not talking about your husband, Your Ladyship. I'm talking about mine.” She turned to the man who held Hilary. “Bring her to the waterfront. I have a letter to her from her ex-husband that may interest her. I'll write the ransom note for her friends.” She smirked. “The rest of you, take whatever booty you can find and bring it to the ship within the hour.”

Hilary struggled and let out a scream, but the man hauled her off. Captain Pavla DeVile followed, smirking.

The pirates had started to spread across the market, knocking over booths and wrecking havoc. They stole food, threw it at people and each other, and grabbed at jewelry and purses. Scott immediately pushed Elizabeth behind his back. “Liz, go see if you can find the others and get the guards. I can take these guys.”

“Want some help, Sherwood?” Mackie stepped next to him. “I'm pretty handy in a fight. I've had to deal with my fair share of bar brawls at the Buttery Tavern.”

“The more the merrier, Mackie!” Scott lunged for the first guy who tried to reach for Elizabeth's purse and basket of greenery. Mackie aimed a right hook at a shorter guy next to him.

Maple and C.J ducked into the doorway of the bakery. C.J nodded at the squall in the square. Scott was starting to wear down. Mackie had been tackled by two guys and was on the ground. “Maple, I think now would be a good time to give Scott a hand. I'll go get the others.”

“Oui, Monsieur Byrnes.” Maple was grateful the baker had gone outside to take a look at the chaos. She untied her cloak, revealing a tight red blouse, then made for the bakery's second floor.

Elizabeth tried to make her way through the crowds. The market was a mess. The streets were slippery with debris from spilled carts and broken booths. She finally ducked behind an overturned pie cart. Eugenia was throwing the remaining pies at the pirates. Mr. Foley was more interested in eating one. His face was covered in reddish goo.

“Oh Elizabeth, this is awful!” Eugenia hit another pirate in the face with what looked like an apple cranberry pie. “Where did all these nasty pirates come from?”

“The wharf, I imagine.” Elizabeth made a face. “I guess they aren't as well-patrolled as we'd been told.”

Mackie jumped in with them. He had a black eye and his spectacles were half-hanging off his nose. “I thought things might be a little safer back here,” he breathed as his fixed his glasses. “When those guys hit, they really hit below the belt!”

Elizabeth watched in horror as Scott was surrounded by a hoard of grotesque, hulking pirates. Two of them grabbed his arms; another hit him hard in the gut. He doubled over, but they forced him back to his feet.

She was about to run out to him when Mr. Foley tugged on her sleeve. “Mr. Foley, what is it?”

He pointed upwards...and at the four pirates leering over them. Eugenia screamed, throwing her last cream pie right into the face of the one reaching for her.

“HEY YOU GUYSSSS!” They all stood up, just in time to see someone swing down and into the crowd from the tall evergreen near the bakery. They swung right into the two men holding holding Scott, kicking them to the ground. They made a soft landing on a pile of pirates. More men in black with red belts rushed into the square.

“Scott, are you all right?” Elizabeth could clearly see that the person was dressed like the Crimson Blade, in a red shirt and black trousers with a red belt and a hood....but they were a little shorter and far more slender than the Crimson Blade she knew. The way the shirt clung to her chest clearly indicated that this Crimson Blade was very, very female.

“Yeah, I'm all right Ma...Crimson Blade.” He leaned over her ear. “I'll tell C.J to take the money around to the poor box at the church, then get the Inn staff out of here,” he whispered. “You help the guys take care of the rest of these jerks.”

“Sure, Sc...sir.” She skewered two pirates with swords, then ducked around two more. The other people in black either dueled with pirates or knocked them out.

Scott got over to the cart just in time to see it topple onto three pirates. The fourth was wiping cream out of his eyes. Mackie, Elizabeth, Eugenia, and Mr. Foley hurried out from under it. “Good work, crew.” He pulled out his infamous pocket watch as the governor’s guards started to troop into the remains of the market. “Oh, would you look at the time? I think we need to get back to the Inn and let the governor’s boys do what they do best.”

Eugenia looked worried. “But where are the others? Hilary and Maple and C.J? I don't think we should leave without them!”

Scott shrugged. “I'm sure they'll turn up sometime.”

The Crimson Blade followed the last remaining pirate to an alley in the docks. She finally cornered him by a barrel of herring. “I demand to know why you are making mess of nice market! And at Noel, too!”

“You don't tell me what to do, baby cakes.” He lunged at her with his own sword, but he was unsteady and probably a little drunk. The Crimson Blade was quite sober. She easily got him against the barrel, holding her sword to his throat.

“What is it that you are doing here?” She pushed a little harder into his throat. “Tell me.”

He thrust a note in her hands. “I'm supposed to give this to the friends of Lady Hilary Booth.”

“I'm her amie.” She grabbed the paper. “I will take this to proper authors.” She shoved him away. “Now, you get outta here, before I put this sword in place that will really hurt!”

She watched him run off towards the big, bright-colored ship across the wharf. She opened the note and read it...and let out a yelp of anger before hurrying back towards the market.

The Second Floor of O'Malley's Bar, At That Moment

Lady Hilary stumbled when she was shoved into the small, poorly-lit room. It was barely big enough to contain a bed, a table, and some chairs. There was nothing homey about it at all, and she was relatively certain it was probably infested with one or more breeds of noxious animal life.

Another form of noxious animal life followed her into the room. “You!” Hilary hissed as Captain Pavla DeVile strode in. “You hussy of a sea witch! How dare you bring me to this...this filthy den of iniquity! I am Lady Hilary Booth, one of the London Booths, and I demand that you return me to my home this very minute, before I have you arrested and sent to the nearest scaffolding to dangle by that skinny neck of yours!”

“That isn't possible. My men are guarding the door. If you try to escape...well, they aren't as respectful of aristocratic actresses as I am.”

“I don't see how you're being respectful. You're a lowly pirate. I am the wife of a...”

“No, you are not. You obviously do not know who you are.” She handed her a letter. “This will tell you. You are the ex-Lady Singer.”

Hilary read the letter over. “Life is too short not to know who I really am. I only pray we can remain caring, loving friends...” It took all her willpower not to cry. She finally turned a smirk to Pavla. “I can see your influence on him already. How long did it take you to get into his heart...and other important places, I'm sure?”

“Oh, I met Jeff at a party for several Congressmen at the home of the Massachusetts governor. He was such a sweet man. He swept me off my feet.”

“He should have swept you into the Atlantic Ocean.” She gave her the glare that sent every servant in the Monongahela Inn trembling. “Tell me, Pablum, if Jeff is still in Boston, what are you doing here?”

“It's Pavla,” Captain DeVile snapped. She was not a woman who was easily cowed. “I'm pursuing a...sideline job, you might say. I am an actress.”

“An actress.” She laughed. “And Jeff is an actor with connections to quite a few government officials and major producers. Very convenient for you.” She stood face-to-face with the exotic woman. “And what, pray tell, do you intend for me?”

“We are holding you for ransom. Your friends are to bring a certain...party...who is visiting the village today to me by midnight. If they refuse the request, you will die.”

“You wouldn't kill me! That would kill your hold over Jeffrey. Even if he did marry another woman, he'd never approve of this!”

“Don't be too sure.” Pavla DeVile turned on her three-inch-heels and strode out. Hilary could hear the door lock behind her. She managed to stand for a few minutes in shock before she finally crumpled to the bed, tears pouring down her cheeks.  

The Docks at the Monongahela River, That Night

Elizabeth had never felt so nervous. Every noise made her jump. The docks of Pittsburgh Village were rough territory during the day, never mind at night! She was glad Scott and C.J were there, too. The note had only said that Captain Pavla DeVile had Lady Hilary at O'Malley's Bar and would be willing to exchange her for an audience with the head of the same theater troupe Cecilia had left with. Evidently, she had a yen to be on the stage.

“This is crazy!” Elizabeth muttered as they entered the dilapidated building. “Why couldn't we have gotten her to bring Lady Hilary to the Inn?”

“We don't need to get the others involved in this.” Scott took her hand. Elizabeth was so scared, she didn't bother to scold him for being forward.

“Did you tell him when to meet you?” C.J asked. Scott just nodded as they entered the bar.

The bar was typical of the Pittsburgh waterfront. The scarred wooden counter ran most of the length of the one room. A few battered tables and chairs made up the rest of the furnishings. Elizabeth was just grateful that it was empty at this hour. A woman in a tight red and blue suit with a matching blue tri-corn hat sat at one table. Scott addressed her first. “Captain DeVile?”

She nodded. “Yes, I'm she.” Her grin turned predatory. “Although you should address me by my real last name, Mrs. Singer.”

Elizabeth stepped to Scott's side. “You said that in your note. How did it happen? I thought...”

“You thought wrong.” She pulled out several papers. “You'll see it is all very above-board. Far more so than your so-called Lady and Lord's marriage in the Mexican colonies by the local butcher.”

C.J lead another figure into the room. “Here he is, miss. The head of the troupe himself.” Pavla's smirk became even more like a cat that ate the canary. It was a very small, old, and timid-looking man with a thin mustache. What she didn't see was Elizabeth and Scott exchange small, knowing smiles of their own.

“We kept our end of the deal, Captain.” Elizabeth's voice sounded more steady than she felt. “Now you keep yours. Where is Lady Hilary Booth?”

“Oh, she's around here somewhere. I'll bring her out after I talk to Mr. Zanish here.”

Elizabeth had to grit out a smile. “All right.” She nodded. “Come on, Scott. Let's let them...talk.”

Scott nodded. He, C.J, and Elizabeth made their way out. Scott turned to Elizabeth. “You got your tools, Liz?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I'll write down everything Pavla says.” She frowned. “Are you sure you can get Lady Hilary? I know they're holding her somewhere.”

Scott's big grin nearly split his face. “My friends are already on their way upstairs. They're probably getting her now. Piece of cake!” He tapped C.J's shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let's go.”

Elizabeth gulped and leaned against the window. Thank goodness the walls here were thin as the paper she was writing on. She heard Pavla talk about how badly she wanted to give up larceny for acting...and how being married to Lord Jeffrey and his title meant she could now pursue whatever career she wanted to. She never once mentioned having married Jeff because she really cared about him. She's only after his power and status, Elizabeth thought angrily. She doesn't love him! She's probably never loved anybody but herself.

Pavla had just started telling Mr. Zanish that she'd join his acting troupe when Elizabeth felt a hand on her shoulder. “I think we have enough to incriminate Pablo, don't you?”

“Lady Hilary!” Elizabeth shot to her feet. “You're all right!”

“I am now, thanks to my friends here.” Scott and C.J flanked her on either side, followed by several figures in black. “I was locked in a room upstairs. I heard everything Pablum said.”

“So did I.” She held up the paper. “And I have it all down here.”

Pavla's eyes widened as Hilary stepped into the room, followed by the others. Scott and C.J drew swords. “What is this? How...”

Scott put a hand on Hilary's shoulder. “It was a collaborative effort.”

Elizabeth's grin was as nasty as she could manage. “Mr. Foley usually takes better notes than me, but...he was busy.”

Pavla's face became even more aghast as “Mr. Zanish” took off his wig and false mustache and eyebrows, revealing the little music teacher. She jumped to her feet. “This is blackmail.”

“Au contraire, petit German libertine.” She held out the notes Elizabeth had taken. “The only thing I want is to know that, as you're rolling along the Monongahela and rolling over every ship from here to Boston, that you're worrying about when I might be sending these notes to MY Jeff...or better yet, when I'll show them to him after he gets back.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, get OUT of my town, before I have you arrested for kidnapping and letting those beasts of yours disturb the peace.”

Captain DeVile could only stride angrily out of the bar and down to her ship. The others watched her. “I don't think we've seen the last of her,” Elizabeth fretted.

“She's gone now. That's all I care about.” Hilary took the papers from Elizabeth. “I'll keep this, dear. It'll be good leverage for when Jeff comes back.” She made a face. “I only wish they were heavier. I'd like to break them over his thick head.”

Scott frowned. “There's something fishy about all of this, Your Ladyship. This doesn't sound like the Jeff I know.” Mr. Foley nodded in agreement.

Elizabeth sighed. “We won't find out anything until he gets back.”

The Basement of the Monongahela Inn, An Hour Later

“I don't like this.” Scott paced up and down the length of the hard rock floor. “Captain Pavla DeVile is one of the most notorious pirates on the East Coast. I doubt she married Jeff because she suddenly fell in love with him. Pavla deals in information. She keeps herself out of hot water with the authorities by trading knowledge about Patriot activities for illegal goods to sell on the black market.”

Maple made a face. “I have heard that is not all she trades. She does not mind trading...favors...for knowledge, either.”

C.J nodded. “If Pavla's after Jeff, it's because he knows something about the Patriots. But what?”

“If we could figure that out, we'd be going after her before she jumps town.”

Maple finally grabbed Scott's arm. “Scotty, enough with the around and around like a top. You make me dizzy. Not to mention, someone may hear you.”

“I know you're worried,” C.J added. “I don't blame you. Pruitt's increased guard patrols on the roads and in Pittsburgh Village and upped the price on the Crimson Blade's head to fifteen thousand dollars. We're going to have to be a lot more careful. We were lucky no one was hurt or caught today.”

“And we've really been short-handed with Jeff gone.” Scott sighed. “Even if I'm about ready to help Hilary throttle him over this whole Pavla mess.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” said a familiar voice from the top of the stairs. “It'll be nice to have some help with throttling him when he gets back. He does squirm so.” Lady Hilary Booth and Mackie Bloom stood together. Hilary was still in the clothes she'd worn that day; Mackie wore his nightshirt and cap.

Scott groaned. “This place is the worst-kept secret in Pittsburgh! How did you find us?”

“Jeff told me the night of the ball.” Hilary gathered her skirts and lead Mackie into the dusty room. “At least, he told me most of it. Hearing about the Crimson Blade's exploits in the market today gave away the rest. I got Mackie out of bed and followed you here when we came home.” She scowled at the dust. “Couldn't you have found somewhere a little cleaner to meet? I doubt anyone's dusted down here since prehistoric times.”

Mackie chuckled. “Yeah, I figured it out, too. Maple, you're a nice girl, but you're not good at hiding anything. You, Jeff, and Scott have been disappearing at weird times for months. There had to be a good reason for it. I doubt you were just going out for ale at the Buttery Tavern.”

Hilary pulled out a lacy handkerchief, dusted off a crate, and finally sat down. “Scott, in exchange for not telling the world your identities, we only ask one thing.”

Scott looked impassive. “What, Your Ladyship?”

Mackie grinned. “We want in on this. You saw me fight today. I may not be a conniving con-artist or a peer of the realm, but I'm good with my fists, and I've been in this village a while. I know people. And I listen to guests who've had a little too much ale.”

Hilary smoothed out a wrinkle on her overskirt. “I refuse to have anything to do with the actual stealing. I won't have that blot on the Booth family name.” She tugged at her ruffled sleeves. “However, I too hear things...and I hear things from a far higher branch of society than Mackie or the rest of you. I wouldn't have any problems relating one or two bits of information that could be of use to you. And if things do get too hot,” she added with a smirk, “I know how to defend myself. Besides, I never did thank the Crimson Blade's men for rescuing me tonight.”

Scott nodded. “Ok, you're both in. We're going to need all the help we can get. Pruitt's been adding more guards to the roads. He's smart, all right. We'll just have to be smarter.” His big, plump-cheeked grin spread across his face. “Very exciting!”

The Governor’s Mansion, the Next Morning

Governor Rolleigh Pruitt was yelling at three of his best men in his office. “How could you have missed them? They were right there, in the middle of the square! They made off with nearly five hundred dollars' worth of jewelry and money from the crowds after that pirate raid.”

“Sir,” pointed out his head lieutenant, “they did stop that pirate raid. It would have gotten worse if it wasn't for the Crimson Blade and his people.”

“Her people.” The second guard smirked. “That body couldn't belong to anyone but a woman. The things I felt when she swung into the square...let's just say I couldn't repeat them around my wife.”

The Governor raised an eyebrow. “I was lead to believe that the Crimson Blade was a man. I know I fought with a man the night of the ball.”

The third guard shook his head. “The Crimson Blade was female, all right. The way her shirt clung to her made it pretty obvious. The voice was a Frenchwoman's.”

Pruitt scowled. “The scoundrel I fought with at the ball had a heavy Irish accent. There are definitely two Crimson Blades.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Triple the patrols on the roads and around Pittsburgh Village. Stop every traveler who even resembles the Crimson Blade, man or woman. Raise the price on his...her head to 10,000 dollars! I want this criminal's reign ended, once and for all! He's undermining my authority and the safety of this village!”

Priscilla Cosgrave stomped into the office, looking annoyed. “R.P, that...that woman is here to see you. She said it was important.”

“Bring her in.” He turned to the men. “You're dismissed...and if you don't capture that red-shirted rogue and his...her band of do-gooding cutthroats, you'll be dismissed for good!”

The guards stumbled out, marveling at Captain Pavla DeVile in another well-fitted, colorful suit and plumed hat on their way. For once, Captain DeVile was in no mood to acknowledge their admiration of her decolletage. She pushed past Cosgrave and up to Pruitt's desk. “I'm not doing any more work for you. That Lady Booth, whom you said would be no problem to deal with, lead me on a merry chase yesterday. She and those blasted friends of hers from that little inn. They made a fool of me!”

“You forget your position, Captain DeVile.” Pruitt waved at a chair; she slowly sat down. “I need you and that ship of yours to keep me informed about General Washington and that so-called army he's forming. That's the only reason you're allowed to ply your trade. That, and certain society families are willing to pay a high price for the luxury goods you supply. If you turn on me, I could have you out of the water and before a firing squad in an instant.”

“You forget as well, Governor, that I am a woman, and well thought of in certain circles. If I were to pass rumors that you've been conspiring with other local business owners to help keep the colonies under British rule, I suspect you'd find yourself spending a great deal of time in jail...or on the end of a short noose.”

“It looks like we're at an impasse. You may still be useful to me.” He pulled out a stack of papers from his desk. “A friend of mine who owns the Weeping Joker Inn her in Pittsburgh is interested in buying the Monongahela Inn. Lady Redmond may be persuaded to sell. She hasn't been quite herself since her husband died in a carriage accident last year. It would certainly eliminate some thorns in my side.”

He scowled. “I wouldn't mind taking that Elizabeth Roberts for myself. She's a lovely and intelligent girl. She would be a great asset to my empire. Without her, those idiots at the Inn would be nothing. Trouble is, she ignores my advances.”

Captain DeVile shook her head. “If I attempt to go to the Inn, the staff will toss me out the moment I come near. I'm afraid I'm too well-known to them.” Her smile turned predatory. “There is, however, still the matter of my husband Jeffrey to deal with. Perhaps it's time I visited him and discussed our...mutual interests.”

Pruitt handed her one of the pamphlets. “Have you read the work of Jonathan Arnold, Captain DeVile?”

“Yes, many times. I don't agree with all of his opinions, but I can appreciate his passionate writing style.”

Pruitt snorted. “I want to find out who Jonathan Arnold is. It's come to my attention that he's found information that could be vital to keeping the colonies in line. Arnold is said to keep to himself. I'm sure with your...sources...it shouldn't be difficult to find out.”

Pavla's smirk was very nasty. “Perhaps it's time I visited my husband and asked him a few questions about his friend Jonathan Arnold...and Victor Comstock.”

A Room at the King's Inn, Boston, Massachusetts, Three Weeks Later

Victor Comstock was putting the finishing touches on his latest pamphlet when he heard a knock at the door. “Hello?” he said in the thickest British accent he could manage. “Who is it?”

“It's Lord Jeffrey Singer! Johnathan, open up! That's a direct order!”

Victor did so. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Jeff, what's wrong? You're not supposed to contact me unless there's an emergency.”

“There is an emergency.” Jeff ducked into the room. “Victor, I just had an encounter with my wife.”

“I thought Lady Hilary was back in Pittsburgh.”

“Not Hilary.” He looked quickly out the window. “Pavla. I hope I wasn't followed here.”

“Pavla?”

“Captain Pavla DeVile.” He pulled back in, his face full of fear. “We have to get out of here. Victor, she knows that you're Jonathan Arnold. I don't know how or why, but she must have tattled to the British officials here in Boston. There's guards on their way here right now to arrest you...”

Both men looked up as a fervent knock was heard on the door. “Open up! Johnathan Arnold, you're under arrest, by orders of the Governor of the Massachusetts Colony!”

“Jeff, get out of here!” Victor started pushing him towards the open window.

“But what about you?”

“I'll stall them as long as I can. You have to get back to Pittsburgh and tell Elizabeth what happened. ”

“Elizabeth?” Jeff didn't have the time to ask why Elizabeth. He got out the window just in time. Even as he was landing with a curse on an azalea bush and hurrying down the alley, the door into the room burst open, blowing off its hinges.

“You know,” Victor said in his heavy (and very fake) British accent, “you didn't need to do that, mate. I would have opened it. I was just finishing up some work.”

“You can drop the voice now, Herr Comstock.” A slender, exotic-looking woman in a bright suit slunk into the room, followed by a cluster of the Governor’s guardsmen. “We know who you are.” She sauntered up to him, looking him over. “You're not unattractive, for a double spy.”

“What makes you think I'm a bloomin' spy?”

She got closer to him. “That,” she hissed softly into his ear, “is for me to know,” she ran her fingers down his cheeks, and then to his chest, “and you to find out.”

He pushed her away. “I'm not interested, miss.” He pulled his sword out from under his bed. One of the men lunged for him. Victor managed to disarm him and wound another, but they quickly overwhelmed him. Two of the guards yanked his arms behind his back. Pavla took his sword. “You're very foolish, Herr Comstock.” She once again pulled herself close to him. “I'll show you what happens to Patriot fools like you.” She grabbed his head to give him a very rough kiss.

He only turned his head away. “Miss, I find your attentions to be most unseemly. Take your hands off of my private person.”

She gave him a sound slap instead. “You have no more passion than a...a dead fish!” She turned on that shark-like smirk again. “If you are not interested in attentions, perhaps your friend Lord Singer will be.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “You stay away from Jeff. He has nothing to do with my work.”

“We shall see.” Her smile only grew wider as they lead the tall writer away.

Boar's Head Tavern, Boston, Later That Night

Jeff was sipping rum at the bar when she walked in. He stood...but she pushed him back down. “I want to talk to you, husband.”

“I'm not your husband. I know what you did to Victor. I saw you on your way to his room this morning.”

“Oh, but you are my husband.” She lead him to a more private table in the back of the room. “It's all signed, sealed, and notarized.”

“I only did it to save Victor.” He growled. “You went back on the deal!You told me if I helped you become an actress and give up piracy, you'd keep quiet about Johnathan Arnold.”

“Your can blame your precious Hilary Booth and all those troublesome people who work at that little inn.” She grabbed his arm. “You know, I still have contacts in Pittsburgh, some quite high in the government. I could get in touch with a few of them, perhaps make sure your Hilary and her friends meet with some unfortunate...accident...”

Jeff's voice rose considerably. “Don't you dare touch her!”

“I might. Or I might not.” She caressed his arm. “I want you to use your power to get me on the stage. Tomorrow. I know some good theaters here in Boston I could talk to. Or,” she squeezed his arm, “your beloved Hilary may not live to recite another Shakespearean sonnet.”

“I'll consider it. Give me until tomorrow.”

She let him go. “You have one hour.” He watched her as she strode out of the bar. Several men watched her wiggling backside with leering eyes.

Jeff handed the bartender money. “Here. I think I have to leave town for a while.” He hurried out as fast as he could. He wasn't going to wait an hour, or even another second. He had to warn Hilary and Elizabeth, before Pavla got her hands on them...or far worse. God only knew what they were going to do to Victor.