Forgotten Fragrance (22 page)

Less than a second later Bristol and Catz barrelled out of the building and headed for the beach. Charlotte let out a long, slow sigh and step by step, palms flat against the sandstone, eased her way along the side of the building. The massive walls cast ominous shadows in the moonlight and the eerie silence clung to her damp skin as she inched closer along the wall of the building, concentrating on every step.

‘Got you, my pretty!' Henk's bulk brought her to a shuddering halt. He slammed her against the wall. The air whistled out of her lungs and his rank odour filled her. His arm clamped her throat as he pinned her to the wall. Filthy sweaty hands reached down and hoisted her skirts. Kicking and flaying, she struggled against him. His weight alone held her while he fumbled with his trousers. Within seconds he had freed himself and lifted her bodily off the ground, hoicked her skirt up and spread her thighs with his brutal fingers. His hips thrust hard as he tried to find his mark.

‘I don't want you, you stinking pig,' Charlotte snarled.

Henk grunted with satisfaction and adjusted his position.

Fighting every natural response Charlotte let her body go limp and brought her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

‘That's it,' he sighed, searching for her warmth, ‘You know you want to give it to me.'

Charlotte curled her fingers into the sparse hair on his face, cradling his cheeks for a moment then raked her fingers downwards, the torn flesh filling her nails. Before he could react she reached for his eyeballs and rammed both thumbs home.

His roar of rage filled her ears and he broke free. ‘You cunt, slag, fuckin' bitch…I'll have you if it's the last thing I do.' A smacking thud of flesh on flesh filled her ears then the piercing pain hit. Her legs turned to jelly and terror blocked her windpipe. Limp, she slid back into his arms.

Henk smirked. ‘That's better.' He stiffened against her. ‘Enjoy it.'

‘I don't think she will.' The deep tone of Christian's voice broke the silence.

Henk stilled his rutting and sucked in a breath. Peering nonchalantly over his shoulder, he said, ‘Mind your own soddin' business, boy,' then turned his attention back to Charlotte, grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back and forced his knee between her legs.

The rough canvas of his trousers chafed the tender skin of her thighs. Blood trickled down the back of her throat from his punch. She coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe through the glutinous mess. Her whole face throbbed in agony. What he did to her now didn't matter. If she couldn't even draw breath what was the point? She let her eyelids fall and sucked in a faltering gasp. A cold gust of air washed over her. Unsupported she slumped to the ground.

‘Murdering swine. Piss orf.' Henk's curses followed by a dull thud and the crunch of bone registered somewhere in her mind as she swiped at her mouth, trying to remove the gush of blood coursing over her lips and down her chin. The salty coppery taste filled her mouth and she wasted a much-needed breath trying to spit it away.

‘Come on, you little turd. What's one more corpse on your tally?' Henk bull-like and tense faced Christian.

Blinking away the tears of pain Charlotte heaved herself onto her feet. A blade flashed in Henk's hand as he skirted Christian in some macabre dance. He lunged. Finding a breath she didn't know she had, she screamed, ‘Knife!'

Christian spun away with his familiar agility, avoiding the worst of Henk's blade. It ripped through his loose shirt as he leapt clear.

Henk charged head down across the dried grass, bent on his prey. Christian hovered, muscles tight and ready to strike, then flew at him. Grasping Henk in a bear hug he pinned his thick meaty arms to his torso, squeezing until Henk's face filled with blood. With a monstrous roar Henk broke free. Raising the knife above his head he swiped down.

‘Christian!' She clamped her hand over her mouth as she called his name. He locked eyes with her and her mistake became evident. She'd distracted him.

Henk lowered his head and charged, ramming Christian in the stomach, sending him flying through the air. He landed with a sickening thud on his back.

‘Got you. You shit-faced little cut-throat.' Standing astride Christian's prostrate body Henk raised his knife high above his head, both hands clasped around the hilt.

The air rushed out of Charlotte's lungs and her mouth gaped as Henk plunged downwards. In the nick of time Christian curled his legs and kicked out. Henk toppled back, staggering like a drunkard. His laboured breath rasped as he slammed into the wall next to her.

‘Over here, Capt'n,' Cookie's breathless voice sounded.

A large Bowie knife wheeled through the air, the blade glinting in the moonlight. It arced into Christian's palm.

‘What about a little memento of your trip, girlie?' Henk lunged, waving his knife in her face. His eyes narrowed as he loomed over her, his intention clear. ‘I'm going to slash your pretty little face.'

A spine-chilling shriek flew from her mouth and she threw her arm over her face, blindly lashing out with her feet. Henk staggered and she thrust him away from her with all her might.

For an agonising moment Christian's face loomed behind Henk, his eyes glinting with rage, then Henk's mouth slackened and his eyes opened wide, their green-grey cast dimming. ‘Another murder on your hands,' he wheezed on a long low sigh. He slid gracefully to his knees as though in prayer then toppled face down into the dry dirt.

The elongated shadow of Christian's body hung wraithlike over the crumpled Dutchman. The blank mask of his face filled her vision and then her eyes travelled to the long Bowie knife clutched in his hand, blood dripping from the blade.

A sound, no more than a moan echoed in the silence. Their gazes locked. Another body and another time. The memory hovered between them.

With a shudder Christian took two steps back. ‘It's over.' He turned to Marcus who stood with his mouth hanging open. ‘See to your wife-to-be. She needs you.'

Marcus nodded his head and scurried over, his panting breath more strained than hers. He reached out for her arm.

‘He's dead.' Pushing Marcus aside Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and set her teeth into her lower lip. ‘The girls are in the back of the building. I think they're locked in. We must free them.'

‘We must.' Christian strode off. Cookie and Jinks scampered after him brandishing their guns.

‘Let me help you, my dear.' Marcus pulled a large white handkerchief from his pocket.

His ineffectual dabs at the blood staining her mouth and chin snapped her patience. ‘Marcus, leave me. I will be fine.' Only a matter of hours ago he'd labelled her a whore and now he treated her as if she was made of porcelain. ‘I'll fix it when we get back to the ship. We need to help Christian release the girls. They're tied up, imprisoned, maybe guarded.' She snatched his handkerchief and clasped it to her bleeding nose.

‘I must get you back to the boat. Away from this dreadful man.' Marcus threw a glance in the direction of Henk's sprawling body and gave a dramatic shudder.

‘It's a shame you didn't come to that conclusion earlier. The
dreadful man
was your business partner.' She pulled the handkerchief from her face and thrust it into her pocket. ‘I am going to help Christian. I care about those poor girls even if you don't.'

‘Charlotte, please. Of course I care about those women, of course I care about you. You malign me. Allow me to make amends for my appalling lapse. Alcohol is the devil's brew and Henk…'

The mumble of Marcus' words came from a great distance and her legs became strangely watery. Henk's bloody corpse loomed in front of her then blurred as the throbbing pain in her face obliterated her vision. She staggered and the ground spiralled up to meet her.

Christian stalked to the rear of the building trying to ignore the heavy breathing of Cookie and Jinks hot on his heels. Their shadows danced alongside him on the walls adding to the prickles of unease skittering down his spine. The possibility of lurking danger held no fear for him, it was the echo of Henk's final words that crawled across his skin.
Another murder on your hands.
His fist tightened on the barrel of the gun willing away the clench of nausea.
Murderer!

Christian stopped in his tracks then lunged forwards as Cookie barrelled into him. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?'

‘Helping, Capt'n, helping. Me and Jinks, we're coming to give you a hand.'

Give him a hand…or still his hand in case he murdered someone else? Right now it was immaterial. Charlotte expected him to rescue the blackbirds — it was too late for the rest. ‘What about Henk?'

‘He's done for. You saw to that. Bloody good job you did too.'

Confirmation if he'd been in any doubt. He wished he'd done a better job while Henk was alive. ‘It'll all be a wasted effort if we're sprung. Get back there and get his body to the ship. And where's Catz and Bristol?'

‘Oh, holy shit.' Cookie took off at a run, Jinks right behind him.

Christian rested for a moment watching the two sailors prod and push Henk's body around with the butt of their guns. If they left the body then it would tie all of them to a murder. Marcus might even lay the blame at Charlotte's feet. The responsibility for Henk's murder rested with him and him alone. Christian's lip curled in disgust, searching for some sense of remorse. It had been so easy. As easy as the first time? He ran his fingers through his hair willing his tired mind to concentrate. All he could see was another body at his feet and all he could feel was the cold touch of Elizabeth's lifeless skin before they dragged him away.

And now Charlotte lay cradled in Marcus' arms like a lover, limp with relief, her head buried in his lap. Her body despoiled by the fucking Dutchman, all because she'd championed him. He didn't deserve such loyalty and she didn't deserve to have her life ruined for a second time by a murderer. She was safer with Marcus.

Turning his back on the carnage he'd created he made his way to the rear of the wool store. The timber door swung loose on its hinges. A shallow shaft of lamplight pooled on the dirt pathway. His gun dangled useless in his hand catching his thigh with each step. He doubted it would even fire. It didn't matter; his weapon of choice was a knife and he'd proved it again tonight. Tucked into his belt it offered a familiar security.

As he reached the door the lyrical yet mournful moan filled the air. The blackbirds, once more hunched and crammed behind a rusty metal grill, pressed cheek-to-cheek, buttock-to-buttock in the ridiculous confined space.

‘Mina!' He hissed her name, keeping in the shadows, not wanting to frighten them and set up an even greater caterwauling.

‘Sssh!' The keening stilled and the bodies rearranged until Mina became visible clinging to the rusty rails, her dark gaze riveted on his face. ‘Captain,' she breathed, ‘are you here to take us away?'

‘I hope so, Mina. We have to get you all out of there first.'

His words created a buzz of excitement and Mina lifted her hand to silence her fluttering flock.

‘Is there anyone guarding you?' Christian stepped tentatively into the light hoping to calm them.

‘No, I don't think so. The bearded man, he left. Catz and Bristol watched us. Then Henk called them. They ran. They have not returned.'

Christian stepped up to their prison and studied the metal grid and lifted the heavy chain. ‘This is locked. I need to shoot it out.'

‘We are not tied any more, Captain.' With a twist of triumph Mina produced a long length of rope. ‘Catz and Bristol tethered us like animals. I have undone it. The knots were not very good for two sailors.'

‘Good work, Mina.' Christian picked up the rusted chain and lock again. He turned and rattled it then dropped it in disgust. ‘I don't know what to do, Mina. I daren't shoot. One of you will be injured. It is too strong for me to break.'

‘Too strong even for you, Captain?' At another time he would have described the smile she threw him as coquettish, but she had other plans. ‘Do you have your knife, Captain?'

‘Yes. I have.' Grimacing he pulled the blade from his belt and wiped it against his trousers, removing the evidence of Henk's blood. He slipped the wooden haft through the bars of the cage.

‘Then I will undo the lock. It will not be difficult.' She reached between the bars and turned the heavy padlock. ‘Can you bring the light to me, Captain?'

Lifting the whale oil lamp from its hook on the wall, Christian shone the beam and stared in amazement as Mina inserted the fine curved point of the blade into the lock and wriggled it back and forth. With a click the padlock sprang open.

Giving an impressed whistle Christian put the lamp down on the straw-covered floor and unwrapped the chain from the bars, all the while marvelling at Mina's skill. Neither he nor Charlotte would be in this situation if Mina had been in London to pick the locks on the cells at Newgate.

Newgate!
The word burned a brand on his mind as he stood back to allow the girls to tumble from their prison.

Newgate! A tiny cramped cell, heaving bodies, distressed cries and the heavy footsteps. The gaoler leading him away.

Mina ushered the last of the girls past him to the door. ‘Captain, we are ready.'

Snapping his mind back to the present Christian swung the door of the cage closed. He raised his hand and halted the little group before peering outside. The tall trees threw waving shadows against the rough walls. He placed his finger to his lips and crooked his finger.

As he rounded the corner of the building he searched for Charlotte. She and Marcus had disappeared into the night. Cookie hovered over Henk's body, trussed like tomorrow's dinner.

Christian led the girls out into the open ignoring their collective murmurings at the sight of Henk's corpse. ‘Good man, Cookie. I'll take his shoulders. Jinks, you lead the girls. We've got a ship out there waiting for us.'