“Of course we’ve not sailed to Reykjavík,” Jason conceded. “Honestly, I’d hoped to circumvent any formal meeting with pirates and steal away with the captives without relinquishing a single farthing. The ransom was difficult for my uncle but not impossible. Themoney sent by the families of the other merchants, however, will bankrupt them. And it’s not as if they could scratch togethergoldon such short notice. They’ve sent bank notes. Not a pirate’s preferred form of currency, one would assume.”
“Alright,” conceded Isobel slowly. “So you hope to evade the ransom and outwit the pirates. How?”
“Well,” Jason ventured cautiously, “by using whatever lovely intelligence you share with us.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Me?Me?Is that all? You know no one in Iceland and will have no local support?”
Jason drummed two fingers on the desktop, allowing this (apparently) unsettling bit of (also apparently) bad news to sink in.
Shaking her head, Isobel began scribbling a note on a piece of parchment. Jason tried to read it but saw that it was in a different language. He felt a little like an insubordinate pupil who had just been taken to task by a very irritated, very pretty teacher. Unbidden, he felt a pulse of desire.
Isobel continued. “But what will you claim when you sail this not-small brigantine into the very tiny harbor of Stokkseyri and drop anchor? The locals will be curious. You must have some narrative about who you are and why you’ve come. If the pirates have a man in Reykjavík, you can be certain that Stokkseyri is thick with their spies and allies. It’s far closer to the glacier caves.”
“Honestly, I hadn’t planned to offer any excuses at all. When I discern the way the wind blows, so to speak, I’ll either steal away with my cousin and his colleagues in the middle of the night. Or I might simply demand that they are returned. I didn’t set out on this mission withtwenty . . .” He looked at Shaw. “How did she describe you?”
“ ‘Hired thugs,’ Your Grace,” provided Shaw.
“Ah yes, I didn’t embark with twenty hired thugs to be marched around by pirates or protocol.”
Isobel shook her head and made more notes. “That will never do. You underestimate Doucette.”
“Doucette?” asked Shaw.
“The pirate band that make Iceland their summer home is led by a Frenchman called Phillipe Doucette,” said Isobel.
“Fine,” said Jason, “we’ll say we’re scientific researchers, come to study the volcanoes or the... moss.”
Isobel narrowed her eyes and glanced appraisingly back and forth between Jason and Declan Shaw. “You look nothing like scientists, neither of you—and I’ve seen the others. You look like woodsmen. And before you take a shine to that idea, let me remind you that Iceland is almost entirely devoid of trees.”
“Perhaps we’ll say we lost our way at sea...” considered Jason.
“So you mean to portray yourselves as idiots?” Isobel surmised.
Shaw chuckled.
Jason said, “Why don’t we simply suggest that there is some mechanical issue with the brigantine, and that we’ve sought safe harbor to repair it?”
Isobel thought for a moment. “That should work, so long as the captain can name some legitimate issue with the ship, something about which the locals can reliably gossip. You’ll want to order up repairs from the village. Everyone will be curious. Visitors are a rare and precious commodity in Stokkseyri.”
“But should we drop anchor out of view and endeavor to slip into the port unnoticed?” asked Shaw.
“Not if your plan is no plan at all. Even if you knew the location of the captives and meant to steal in and out in a night, complete anonymity would be a challenge. Anything out of the ordinary will be noticed. This part of the island is flat and treeless; there is literally nowhere to hide. Youwill beseen, that is my opinion. It sounds reasonable to claim damage to the ship, but you must also be able to say where you were going and how you came to limp into Stokkseyri.”
“Fine,” said Jason. “I’ll say I’m writing a book of travel essays, and we were bound for Greenland. How’s that?”
“That should... suffice.” She was clearly not impressed.
“If we devise this elaborate fiction and chat up the locals, then I can rely on town gossip to inform what’s become of my cousin.”
Isobel looked at him, tapping her pencil against the back of her hand. “Are you asking me or telling me, Your Grace?”
“Ah...” Jason hedged. She was so very stern and irritated and... alive. He felt another lick of desire.
She went on. “Am I to believe that you’ve no plan at all, Your Grace? Nothing?”
Jason suppressed a smile. She was so very difficult to impress. He should not value this, but he did. Impressing her became the most important thing on his list of Important Things. After recovering poor Reggie, of course.
He cleared his throat. “The manner in which I’ve always conducted my work, Miss Tinker, tends to be a more gradual, friendly kind of...amble. I turn up,I make friends—lucky for me, I’m a likable sort of fellow—and I observe. I scout for weakness and oversight. Unless I’m meant to infiltrate known enemy territory, I prefer a relaxed perusal of the field of play. I take it all in. I seek alliances. You’ll recall this tactic from the first time I encountered you.”
