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recognised, from the back of Bates’ shop. Smith emerged from the shadows a moment later, the benevolent smile on his face not quite managing to mask his natural air of malevolence. ‘You haven’t forgotten me already, have you?’

Samson raised an eyebrow. ‘Mister Smith. I’m afraid I don’t have your datapad with me, if that’s what you’re after.’

Smith smiled, and Samson instantly understood how Smith had known they were coming—the datapad had a tracker. What an idiot he’d been. He forced himself to remain impassive, and not give away the fact that he’d only now realised his mistake. With a little luck, Smith would think that his bringing it up meant he had known all along.

‘No, you’re welcome to hold onto that,’ Smith said. ‘There’s something else I want to talk to you about.’ He was still smiling, but there was no mirth in it.

‘You want to come clean about something we didn’t find?’ Samson was concerned. The balance of power had shifted substantially since their last meeting. Who knew how many of Smith’s henchmen lurked outside, waiting for their order to come in and knock the hell out of them.

Smith laughed. ‘No, that’s not it.’

‘Although I’m intrigued, I really don’t have the time right now,’ Samson said. Instinct told him to draw his pistol, but reason told him that if Smith had wanted to take them hostage or have them done over, he wouldn’t have made a personal appearance.

‘As fond as I am of Sirion here, he can’t hold his piss. Anything we talk about will be doing the rounds of town before nightfall. Come and talk to me in private. It won’t take long.’

Samson was beginning to regret having played the heavy Navy hand. He was tempted to look to Price to gauge his reaction, but knew the responsibility lay with him.

‘Fine. Where?’

‘Sirion’s been kind enough to let us use his office.’ Smith gestured with his hand.

Samson nodded and both he and Price started off.

‘No, no, gentlemen. Just you, Captain.’

‘I’ll go and see what he has to say,’ Samson said to Price. ‘Keep your weapon handy.’

Smith led Samson toward the back of the chandler’s, thankfully, instead of toward the brothel in the other half of the building.

‘If I find any listening devices in here, Sirion,’ Smith said with a broad smile, ‘I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you.’

There was something cheerful about the way he delivered the threat which Samson found bizarre and difficult to reconcile, but he had no doubt Smith meant it.

The office was small and pokey—exactly what Samson would expect from someone like Bates. With luck, he wouldn’t be there for too long. At least there weren’t any goons waiting to beat the hell out of him for inconveniencing the mysterious Kingston Smith.

‘Well, you’ve got me here,’ Samson said. ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’

‘I couldn’t help overhearing what happened with the other naval ships.’

Samson bit his lip and cursed. Tracker and audio. That datapad was a seriously sophisticated piece of technology to send audio data across such a big distance. It was a big slip-up on his part, and whatever trouble it got him into with his commanders was well deserved. What doubled Samson’s surprise, however, was how calm Smith was about it. He must have had ice-water for blood.

‘You don’t seem too surprised.’

Smith shrugged. ‘When you’ve seen as much as I have over the years, not much shocks you anymore. That, and I already had an inkling that there was something out here.’

‘An inkling?’

‘Well, perhaps “inkling” understates it a bit. I’ve found something I think you might like to see,’ he said.

Samson felt his frustration rise. ‘Knowing what you know, I’d expect you to realise I don’t have the time to be dealing with distractions,’ Samson said. ‘I have some pretty big problems to deal with so I’m afraid I’m going to need something a little more solid to catch my attention.’

‘First things first,’ Smith said. ‘This is far more than a distraction, and I don’t think you’re going to find it a waste of time. But I’m going to need something in return.’

Samson felt that control of the encounter lay entirely with Smith. There was something domineering about his presence, and Samson didn’t like it. Shady figures didn’t tell the Navy what to do, yet here was Smith acting like he was president of the Union, albeit in a less impressive office.

‘First things first,’ Samson said. ‘You tell me what this thing is, or I’ll have Sergeant Price drag you back to our brig and we’ll see how long it takes you to decide to be a bit more forthcoming.’

Smith laughed for far longer than Samson felt the threat justified. Just when he thought Smith had stopped, he let out another chortle.

‘Listen, mate, don’t think you’d be the first naval officer I’ve killed. Marine sergeant neither,’ he said. ‘If I wanted this little chat to be anything less than friendly, my boys’d already be digging holes in the ground for you. Believe me, you want to keep this friendly. I’m trying to do you a favour. You’re a young lad, so I’ll give you that one pass. Just the one, mind you. Now, if you’re done trying to prove you’ve got a bigger cock than me, I’ll continue.’

Samson had no idea how to respond, so he kept his mouth shut.

‘I’ve had a few issues with the law in the past, not entirely my fault, but the end result is that there’s a warrant out on me, and at least two official bounties. I want the bounties lifted, and a full pardon from the Union,’ Smith said. ‘And not just for the things your lot think I’ve done, but for anything up to now they might find out about later and try to pin on me. No pursuit of illegally-obtained enrichment, either. What’s mine is mine. I want to be free to take the fruits of my labours and go home. Back to New Portsmouth to see out

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