A pair of half-men waited at the gangway, keeping guard and another pair were on the ship fore and aft. He shivered. He’d heard they could see in the dark, and Tool had never seemed uncomfortable in dim light. Now, all of a sudden, the fear that they would pick him out in the blackness filled him with an almost paralyzing terror. They would see him. They would hand him to his father and he would die. His father would cut him open.

Nailer drew deeper under the dock, listening to the tramp of feet. A few conversations mentioned a captain, but no name to go with it… only “the captain” wanting to be under way. “The captain” having a schedule.

Nailer waited, hoping for some mention of the saintly Captain Sung. The waves jostled him. He was starting to get cold from a lack of exercise. Even this warm tropic water was starting to suck the heat from him. The floating dock and its anchor moved and swayed. Footsteps thumped overhead. The whine of a motor launch, someone burning biodiesel to reach the ship. Faces gleaming in the darkness. Men and women with scars and hard looks. Someone hurried down to greet the craft.

“Captain.”

The man didn’t respond, just climbed out. He looked back. “We need to be under way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nailer waited, heart thudding. It wasn’t Captain Sung. This was a man, not a woman. And there was nothing of the Chinese about him. Lucky Girl had been wrong. Things had changed. Nailer forced down his disappointment. They’d have to find another way.

The captain was standing almost directly above Nailer. He spit into the water no more than a foot away.

“Pyce’s people are all over the docks,” he said.

“I didn’t see a ship.”

The captain spit again. “Must have anchored off site and shuttled in.”

“What are they doing here?”

“No good, I’m guessing.”

Nailer closed his eyes. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, he thought. The captain and his lieutenant were climbing the gangplank. “We’ll leave with this tide,” the captain said. “I want to be under way before we have to speak with them.”

“What about the rest of the crew?”

“Send back for them. But hurry. I want to be gone before dawn.”

The lieutenant saluted and turned for the launch. Nailer took a deep breath. It was a risk, but he didn’t have any other choices. He swam out from under the dock and called up.

“Captain!”

The captain and his lieutenant both startled. They drew their pistols. “Who’s there?”

“Don’t shoot!” Nailer called. “I’m down here.”

“What the devil are you doing down in the water?”

Nailer swam close to the planking and grinned. “Hiding.”

“Get up here.” The captain still was wary. “Let’s see your face.”

Nailer scrambled out of the water, praying that he hadn’t made a mistake. He squatted, panting on the deck.

“Dock rat,” the lieutenant said with distaste.

“Swank.” Nailer made a face at him, then turned his attention to the captain. “I have a message for you.”

The captain didn’t approach and he didn’t put down his pistol. “Tell me, then.”

Nailer glanced at the lieutenant. “It’s only for you.”

The captain frowned. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.” He called behind him. “Knot! Vine! Toss this rat back in the water.” The two half-men rushed forward. Nailer was stunned at how fast they were. They were on him, grabbing his arms before he even had a chance to consider fleeing.

“Wait!” Nailer cried. He struggled against the iron grip of the half-men. “I have a message for you. From Nita Chaudhury!”

A sudden intake of breath. The captain and his lieutenant exchanged glances.

“What’s that?” the lieutenant asked. “What did you say?” He stormed over to where Nailer was held. “What’s that you say?”

Nailer hesitated. Could he be trusted? Could any of them? There were too many things he didn’t know. He had to gamble. Either he’d gotten lucky or he’d walked into a trap. “Nita Chaudhury. She’s here.”

The captain came up close, his face hard. “Don’t lie to me, boy.” He took Nailer’s face in his hand. “Who sent you? Who’s behind you with lies like this?”

“No one!”

“Bullshit.” He nodded at one of the half-men. “Whip him raw, Knot. Get me some answers. I want to know who sent him.”

“Nita sent me!” Nailer screamed. “She did, you rotten bastard! I told her we should run, but she said you could be trusted!”

The captain stopped. “Miss Nita is dead more than a month. Drowned and dead. The clan mourns.”

“No.” Nailer shook his head. “She’s here. Hiding. Back in the Orleans. She’s trying to get home. But Pyce is hunting her. She thought she could trust you.”

The lieutenant smirked. “Christ almighty. Look what the Fates dragged in.”

The captain stared at Nailer. “You baiting me?” he asked. “Is that it? You’re baiting me the way they did Kim?”

“I don’t know Kim.”

The captain grabbed him, pulled him close. “I’ll strangle you with your guts before I go down like she did.” He turned away. “Whip him. Find out who sent him. If the girl’s out there, we’ll go hunting.”

The lieutenant nodded and turned. As he did, the captain raised his gun and shot the man in the back. The gunfire echoed in the darkness, running flat across the water. The lieutenant crumpled to the planks. Smoke curled from the barrel of the captain’s pistol, slowly disbursing.

Nailer stared at the dead man. The captain turned back to the half-men. “Let the boy go.”

Nailer found his voice. “Why did you do that?”

“He was my minder,” the captain said simply. To the half-men he said, “Weigh him down and then go with the boy. We’re leaving with the tide.”

“And the rest of the crew?”

The captain grimaced. “Find Wu and Trimble and Cat and Midshipman Reynolds.” He stared out at the water. “And do it damn quietly. No one else, you understand?” He turned to look at Nailer. “You’d better not be lying to me, boy. I don’t fancy a life of piracy, so you’d better damn well be right.”

“I’m not lying.”

The half-men Knot and Vine guided him into the launch. They were huge and daunting. The boat moved slowly away from the dock, aiming for the deep streets of the Orleans.

“Where are we going?” Nailer asked. “She’s close to shore. We don’t need to go so deep into the drowned city.”

“First our men, then her,” Knot said.

Vine nodded. “She will need protection. It is better not to drag her into the open until we are ready to run.”

“Run from what?”

Vine grinned, showing sharp teeth. “The rest of our loyal crew.”

19

KNOT AND VINE were fast and efficient, moving from bar to nailshed to bar, seeking silently and collecting their fellows. They said little to Nailer as they worked the Orleans. The rest of the crew were regular people, not half-men at all. Wu: tall and blond and missing fingers. Trimble: thickly muscled, with forearms like hams and a tattoo of a mermaid on one bicep. Cat, with his green eyes and steady stare. Reynolds, with a long black braid running down her back, short and stocky and with a pistol in her belt.

Reynolds was the first located and she took command. At each venue, all she said was “Nita” and the drunken crew sobered or dropped their whores and came away until they were a fast-moving knot of muscle and bare steel cutting through the drowned city’s revelry of sailors and traders.

It was astonishing to watch how efficiently they moved. An entire team mobilized instantly at the invocation of Lucky Girl’s name. Astonishing to see the value these people placed on her. Until recently, Nailer had mostly thought of her just as a rich girl who bought the muscle she needed, but here was something else, this clustered tribe of weaponry and purpose. Total loyalty. More intense even than crew loyalty in the ship-breaking yards.