The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Sixty-Eight
Translated Letters
The
Frenchman took the letter and began to peruse the words that
Sparrow’s pirate angel had penned. Jack watched intent upon hearing
just one word translated into English, but alas, Frenchy conferred
with Rochester in his native tongue.
The Earl in turn,
answered in French as they attempted to decipher each word, every
letter.
“For bloody sakes, give me something!” Jack
begged. “Anything!” he shouted, then withdrew, fearing he had
shown his hand how important the three letters were to him. He may
have played into the Earl’s treachery he was so fond and capable of
inflicting upon others. If Wilmot knew Jack yearned for a decent
translation he could very well lord it over him, demanding favors
from the pirate. Though in all honesty, what favors could Jack do for
the nobleman stuck in the same room with the man?
Wilmot
looked to Jack. Jack noted a strange expression clouding the Earl’s
eyes almost as if he felt for him.
“I say, pirate,” the
Earl began. “It is of intriguing hand this lady does write. I was
of mind to believe she was of the more intimate nature to you. And
indeed there are words that say as much. According to my friend here
he has asked for your leave that we may complete the task at hand. I
promise you, Captain that you shall receive a translated letter
forthright. But for now, I must ask that you allow us the time to
make an alliance and translate your lovely letter.” With the last,
Rochester waved Sparrow away.
Jack’s brow knitted, not sure
if he wished to leave Carrie’s correspondence in the hands of these
two men. Yet, he knew he had no alternative.
He turned
wearily to the bar and nodded to young Jack who immediately knew to
pour the pirate a tankard of rum. Jack drew hard on the amber liquid,
bringing a heat to his throat and mind. He brought the empty cup down
and withdrew the second letter, the one from Jessie. He stared down
at her handwriting. He was still no closer to understanding the
Spanish she had used to write to him.
He glanced about the
room, trying to decide who would be the best candidate to share his
frustration with, who would help him to interpret the letter from his
cook from the Pearl.
Across the room, BonBon had finished a
few moments before from painting her toenails. He watched as she gave
a quick touch to pale pink nails that it was safe to put on her blue
slippers. Jack gave a small shake of his head. He was still not
comfortable approaching the she-male, though he really could not give
a good reason why he avoided her.
His eyes then fell to Lt.
Victor. Jack could hear the prison warden making a verbal complaint
to no one in particular that the writer, Rainey, had taken complete
ownership of the only desk in the room. There was a quiet rage that
simmered beneath the surface of the Cuban.
No, Jack thought,
there were reasons to stay clear of Victor. The two that came to mind
were that he was a military man and the other was that for some
reason Sands had interfered with Jack contacting Jesse on Rainey’s
computer. The pirate was no fool, for though no proof had been found
by Constable Crane, Jack knew that the CIA agent was responsible for
the destruction of the writer’s property.
But the agent
must have had a reason and so to protect Jessie, Sparrow decided
against Victor. If there was something going on, it best that those
in the higher levels of the magistrates not know the contents of
Jessie’s letter.
That left DeMarco.
It had come
down to the Spaniard. He loved intrigue but only as a fancy. He
feared only that he would no longer be able to woo the fairer sex,
and Jack had witnessed how he pursued BonBon with such fever and
pitch.
Jack stood there, twirling the end of his mustache in
one hand as he gave DeMarco consideration. Without moving his head,
he eyed BonBon, and further still let his gaze rest on Wilmot.
He
then began to develop a plan. A plan that would allow Jack to get the
letter translated while at the same time divert attention from the
letter itself. Divide, distract and conquer.
It had always
worked.
Jack strode over to DeMarco who acknowledged Jack
with a nod and a flourished wave of his hand.
“Capitan, I
trust you are having a favorable day. I sit here and watch the moon
glide across the room. Can you not see her beauty?”
Sparrow
followed the Don’s gaze and found him to be watching BonBon as she
flirted and tried to offer her special services to Dean. The book
seller indicated he had no need to smuggle anything out of the room
at present. BonBon returned to her seat at the table.
“Aye,
lad, I see the fine lass. She is indeed something that captures the
imagination.” Sparrow turned back to DeMarco. “Speaking of
capturing, I understand that the Earl is showing a tad bit of
interest in your little butterfly.”
“Of course, I being
one who so loves to see relationships blossom has promised to help
the Earl to woo said maiden, in return of translating me letter.”
DeMarco shot a look over to the nobleman who sat with the
Frenchman, as they deciphered the contents of the letter together.
“Now, on the other hand, if ye be interesting in pursuing
the young …eh, lass…I would be more than willing to put in a good
word on yer behalf. However, one does not perform such a favor
without one being returned. As it is, I have this letter, from a
‘gurl. Me pirate gurl. And I need to be knowing what it is she
says. Can ye help me out?”
“Aye, a letter from an “amor
especial’? I can feel your pain Capitan. I fear that I shall never
see my own fair Donna Anna again. Have you seen her, Capitan? Donna
Anna? That is her stage name, you know? She is my usignulo
espanol…Spanish nightingale. Her voice has filled the opera houses
all across Europe. There is none to compare. When she sings she sings
not mere words or notes upon a page. She sings the stars and heavens.
That is what comes from her soul.”
DeMarco drifted off into
a world that Sparrow could not invade.
The pirate made a
clearing sound in his throat, but DeMarco did not respond. Again he
cleared his throat attempting to pull the self-proclaimed lover from
his fantasy. The third time was the charm as DeMarco looked to pirate
and found him rolling his eyes in a downward motion towards the
letter.
“Many pardons, Capitan. My apologies for becoming
distracted. Yes, yes, of course I would be more than willing to help
you.” He reached out and took the letter. “I should have it for
you on the morrow,” he promised as he walked away.
It was
then Jack pulled the third letter from his pocket and turned it over
in his hand and for the first time read the name on the outside of
the envelope. He recognized immediately the woman who had penned it
and whispered her name.