Lady Vixen (13 page)

There
was nothing she could do to stop him, she realized bleakly, uncertain if she
even really wanted to. At least with the books locked in his safe, they did
no
one
any harm!

Not
so strangely Nicole found herself very much in a quandary—she had a great
fondness for the United States, yet she still thought of herself as English.
And those little black books put her in a very uncomfortable position indeed.
One part of her wanted them destroyed and yet, deep inside, she sympathized
with the Americans. Sighing unhappily, she discovered that she no longer knew
what she thought of the war between England and the United States.

Seeking
a breath of air that night, she saw Allen as she walked alone near the bow of
the ship, and she told him that she wished the books would vanish. Allen threw
her a peculiar look and asked, "Doesn't it bother you that the Americans
will use the information against your own countrymen—that a lot of British
sailors are going to die as a result?"

Feeling
inexplicably guilty, as if it were her fault that the wretched books had been
found at all, Nicole said in a small voice, "Yes, it does. But, Allen, we
are at war and I'm certain that the British ships manage to steal American
secrets too!"

Allen's
face tightened. "Listen, you little fool," he snarled in a harsh
undertone, "Britain is fighting for her life—do you think this war is
being fought for amusement?"

The
struggle within herself increasing, Nicole whispered unhappily, "No. But,
Allen, please understand—it is very hard for me to take sides—I have been away
from England for five years and all I have known during that time are
Americans."

Allen's
features froze and the blue eyes went nearly black with some strong emotion.
His fist clenched as it rested near Nicole's own, and she had the troubling
feeling that if they were somewhere safe from prying eyes, he would have shook
her with anger.

Then
slowly she asked out loud the question that had lain between them for so long.
"You're not truly a British deserter, are you, Allen?"

She
couldn't read his expression in the darkness but she felt his tenseness. There
was silence for several long seconds; both of them stared out over the rail at
the sea that flowed endless and black before them.

Finally
Allen said, "Let's just say I would like to see this damn war over! And
that I'll do everything within my power to see that it ends as quickly as
possible."

Nicole
swallowed, uncertain whether she was glad or not that Allen had refused to
answer her. Did it really matter? The important thing was that the war end, and
was it truly imperative that one take sides? Nicole thought not.

Pensively
she murmured, "I, too, would do anything to help bring about the end. It's
not right that two countries with such close ties should be at war with one
another."

Quickly
Allen said, "Then help me, Nick! Those code books will lead to more
bloodshed, more men and ships lost to both sides. But if we were to steal them
from Saber—steal them and destroy them—then neither side would have them."

"Steal
them from Saber?" she asked uncertainly, not liking the idea of pitting
herself against him.

"Yes!
We have to, Nick. If those books and papers are destroyed, then not only will
the Americans not have them, but neither will the British! Don't you see—it
will save the lives of many men—Americans and British. Help me!"

Still
Nicole hesitated, knowing Saber would be furious and that she was being
disloyal. But then, convinced that she would be helping to end the war, and in
some hidden recess realizing that by throwing in her lot with Allen, she would
be severing forever her strange relationship with Saber, she agreed. It was not
a wholehearted capitulation, but determinedly she pushed her doubts aside. She
would help Allen and do her part to end the hostilities between America and
England.

Her
eyes reflecting her inner turmoil, she said reluctantly, "Yes, I will help
you. What do you want me to do?"

Allen
stared at her very hard, aware that her heart was not fully committed, but then
he shrugged—he needed Nick's help and knew she would prove a willing tool when
the final moments came. Quietly he said, "It will do us no good to act
now—even if we could. We have no way of escape, and once the books were missed,
Saber would know damn well that they had been stolen by someone on board this
ship. We'll just wait until we reach Barataria. All you can do in the meantime
is keep an eye on Saber and let me know the instant he removes them from that
safe."

They
parted shortly after that, Nicole going silently to her little cupboard and
Allen remaining leaning on the railing, staring out blankly over the shifting
sea. He wanted those code books so badly it was all he could do to control the
impulse to steal them right now, tonight, whatever the risks. His only consolation
was the fact that the books did Saber little good. Unfortunately in no time
they would be in the hands of the American authorities. If only he had been the
one to discover the frantic young officer, a Lieutenant Jennings-Smythe,
attempting to destroy that damning information. Now instead of reposing safely
on the bottom of the sea, where they belonged, he thought viciously, they
rested snugly in Saber's safe. Those books must not fall into the hands of the
Americans, Allen decided fiercely. They must not!

Though
Saber created no more disturbing scenes, Nicole was in constant conflict with
her conscience in connection with him. She dreamed of those wretched code books
disappearing into thin air, thereby relieving her of the necessity of aligning
herself against Saber. Alone in Saber's quarters she spent hours staring at the
massive safe, trying to will it to vanish. But it did not and she knew she was
committed to stealing those little black books.

The
return to Barataria Bay was accomplished easily. It was with a sense of
homecoming that Nicole saw the outlines of the islands, Grand Terre and Grand
Isle, heave into sight.

For
five years Grand Terre, the main headquarters of Jean Lafitte, the notorious
and aristocratic smuggler, had been like a second home to her, the first being
La
Belle Garce.
It was here on Grand Terre, lying to the east of Grand Isle,
that Lafitte had erected enormous warehouses to hold the plunder taken by the
many ships that filled the bay. Here he had built a large and frequently
well-stocked slave barracoon, bordellos, gambling houses, and cafes for the
entertainment of the pirates. Lafitte was king of the smugglers, and he
wandered brazenly through New Orleans, a tall, handsome man, rubbing shoulders
with the wealthy and highborn, as if daring anyone to question his right to be
there.

Few
did, for smuggling was
almost
a respectable pastime in lower Louisiana,
and there was more than one aristocratic family that owed its good fortune to
smuggling—much to the consternation and confusion of the Americans. The Creoles
saw little wrong with it, and when the American businessmen and officials
attempted to point out that it was unlawful, they were met with blank stares
and shocked tones. "Surely, Monsieur is wrong, my grandfather was a great
smuggler! It is just a way of life, n'est-ce pas?"

It
was a way of life, and the many bayous below New

Orleans
made an ideal setting for the smugglers. The swampy area was like a catacomb,
with hidden places for storing goods before transporting them secretly over the
watery bayou roadways to the warehouses in the city.

There
were many small smuggling operations carried on, but Lafitte's group, situated
on Grand Terre, was by far the largest, numbering over a thousand men.
Barataria Bay was filled with ships of all sizes; feluccas, red-sailed luggers,
and schooners; some captured vessels being refitted; some pirate ships and a
few privateers; and there, arrogantly, with her three prizes following her,
La
Belle Garce.

As
always with the return of a ship, there was a great deal of activity both
aboard ship as well as onshore. Ordinarily Nicole loved this period of intense
excitement, but this trip had been different in many unpleasant ways, and she
was tense and edgy, knowing that soon she and Allen would be out in the open.
Once those code books were in their hands, there was no going back. No more
would she sail on
La Belle Garce,
the Captain's secretary-cabin boy, and
never again would she sleep in her little cubbyhole, hiding her identity
beneath a boyish exterior. It was the finish of an adventure that had started
the moment she'd been pulled behind Saber all those years before, and
truthfully she couldn't tell whether she was happy or sad.

She
and Allen had settled upon a simple plan. Knowing the majority of the crew
would be ashore and that the Captain would remain on board until after the
first exodus, they planned to overpower him in his quarters on the nearly
deserted ship. After gagging and binding him, it would be easy to remove the
key that hung around his neck, open the safe, remove the books, and row
themselves to shore. They would leave him tied in his bunk, to be discovered at
some later hour. No one would think anything about their arriving together;
young Nick usually tagged after Ballard. Nor would anyone think it strange that
they carried a small trunk with them or that they set off immediately in the
direction of New Orleans. Many of the crew were already making plans for the
orgy of drink and women they would find in that wide-open city. Only Nicole and
Allen would know that their ultimate destination was not to be New Orleans.

The
tiny flaw in the plan was that Saber might leave with the code books earlier
than anticipated. It was essential that the ship be nearly deserted; it would
be disastrous if a crewman should blunder into the Captain's quarters with some
last-minute request! Allen would remain outside but nearby, and it would be up
to Nicole to see that Saber stayed inside the cabin until after the crew had
dispersed. For this purpose Allen had slipped Nicole a small ivory-handled
pistol, cautioning her to use it only if Saber attempted to leave. They hoped
he would not make that attempt until Allen was ready for him.

Nicole
was as jittery as a high-strung filly before her first race. The small pistol,
concealed about her waist, felt as if it were a cannon, and everytime Saber
spoke, she knew he had discovered the plot. She forced herself to remain cool
and aloof and pretended to be straightening her table, as she resolutely ignored
Saber's upsetting nearness.

Higgins
came in for a brief conversation, during which Saber ordered Nicole to run an
errand to the storeroom. She almost balked, but with Higgins standing right
next to him, she could only obey. She hurried as fast as she could, fearful
that Saber would leave before she returned; she raced back with the information
he wanted and entered the room slightly breathless. Saber was alone and gave a
disinterested grunt at her information, paying her no further attention.

He
seemed in no hurry to leave. For that she was thankful. Not that she doubted
her ability to hold him. She knew that few men will argue with a pistol, but
she would have felt more confident if Allen had been at her side! She was, if
the truth be known, just a bit torn. Deep down she knew she owed Saber a
certain amount of loyalty, yet she simply could
not
allow him to turn
those wretched code books over to the Americans. Unconsciously she frowned at
the unhappy thoughts.

"Worried
about something, Nick?" Saber asked softly, and Nicole started at his
words.

She
left off her shuffling of papers and turned slowly to face him, willing the
frown to vanish. "Why no, sir. I was just concentrating. You know how it
is when one's mind is busy."

A
disbelieving snort greeted her prim words. Saber was relaxing in one of the
large leather chairs near his desk. He was in a state of semi-undress, with his
white linen shirt gaping open, and Nicole was suddenly prey to an unnerving
desire to run her hands over his muscular chest. One hand rested lightly on his
desk and clasped a tumbler of dark rum, despite the morning hour. He was
smoking a thin black cigar, and its heady scent drifted lightly in the air.
Glancing at him beneath her lashes, she was again uneasily conscious of the feeling
of leashed power that emanated from him. For a tiny second she questioned the
wisdom of earning his enmity; she knew all too well what a merciless foe he
would make. There was silence except for the slap of the bay on the hull.
Feeling something more was expected of her, Nicole asked tartly, "Didn't
you like my answer, sir?"

Crushing
his cigar in a small china dish, apparently absorbed in the task, he said
thoughtfully, "No, I didn't like your answer, but then, I
never
do
... do I?"

Not
wishing another argument to spring up between them, Nicole held her tongue, and
at her lack of retort he swung his golden gaze to her face. "Nothing to
say, young Nick?"

Nicole
shook her head, deliberately turning her back on him. She heard the movements
as he rose from his chair, and her heart leaped within her breast when he
remarked, "A quiet Nick is unusual. Are you planning something, I
wonder?"

Studiously,
Nicole kept her head bent, willing him to leave well enough alone. She couldn't
bear it if he started another of those queer, unsettling conversations that
seemed to lead nowhere.