The Waiting Room
~ Chapter Seventy-Four
Secured Weapons, Secured Letter
“Do
we do this again or are you going to tell me where me letter and
weapons have gotten to?” Sparrow asked, twirling the red, shiny
pepper in his hand.
Ichabod stood, the empty milk bottle in
his hand, his breathing labored from the heat of the peppers.
“I
can whole-heartedly assure you Captain, I do not have the faintest idea as
to where your belongings are being held. I admit, I took them, but
that was all. I had to enforce the law, obey my superiors. That is
all I did.” Crane carefully sat the bottle to the counter, taking
one of the dish towels and wiped at his mouth, his eyes still tearing
from the pain of the peppers.
Sparrow flipped the bright red
pepper behind him, back into the packing box. “Very well. Let’s
say I believe ye. That ye not know where the letter and weapons be.
But ye must know who has secured them? Ye can give me that name,
can’t ye?” Jack took a few swaggered steps towards the constable,
waiting for an answer.
“Please, Captain, no closer,”
Ichabod held out a warning hand. “I have had enough of your torture
and I must insist you cease and desist. I am warning you. Another
step and I most certainly have to have you arrested.”
Jack
rolled his eyes as he stopped in his tracks. He then looked to his
left, then made a half circle to look to his right, then brought his
attention back to Crane.
“And where pray tell, dear
constable, where will ye be putting me once ye have me in chains? Go
ahead,” the pirate held out his hands, insisting Crane arrest him.
“Lock me in irons. Then what? Make me sit on Rainey’s couch? Make
me wear that bloody bathrobe of his?”
Sparrow brought a
hand up, his index finger tapping his lips. “No…no…wait…got a
better plan. Send me t’bed without supper. Aye, that be it! Send me
to Master Lantz’s bed…get all swallowed up…only to show up at
the door again. Now that be a proper punishment, wouldn’t ye be
saying?”
“Or will ye be making me go sit next to that
space monkey, Armacost? Make me listen to all that gibberish he
claims be Emily…tis be worse than a Chinese water torture!”
“Captain, can we not fight about this anymore?” Sam
quietly asked. The timid question made the pirate look over at the
self-appointed cook.
“I not be fighting, young Samuel,”
the pirate said, watching as Sam proceeded to divide the peppers by
size. “I just be asking fair questions of the officer. If he has
designs to arrest me, then where does he bloody ‘ell plan to do
with me? All I want are me effects. Whoever it be, had no right to
take them.”
Jack turned back to find himself facing an
empty space. Crane had disappeared again.
“Will that man
stop moving about!” Sparrow bellowed. “He moves about like a
bloody ghost!” Once again the pirate caught the kitchen door’s
movement as it settled.
Jack marched to the door, reaching
out, ready to slam it open but halted when Sam called out to him.
“Captain?” Sam called quietly. With his hand paused on
the door, Jack turned his head to bring Sam into view. Sam continued.
“Go gentle on the constable. He’s only doing his job.”
The
pirate grunted as he shoved himself inside The Room. He immediately
located Crane sitting at the far table. Standing behind the New York
officer was Brasco and Lt. Victor, their guns in plain view.
But
the threat of their weapons did not deter the pirate. He began the
trek across The Room, to question Crane on the location of his
letter, his sword, his pistol. He took but a few steps when he
stopped dead still. From the corner of his eye something gleamed in
the overhead lights. He let his eyes move slowly to his left without
moving his head until he brought the item in sight. It lay there on
the table nearest the kitchen door.
His sword! Next to it lay
the pistol. It was as if they were waiting for his arrival, waiting
for him like sacrificial offerings.
Sparrow let his body
follow his eyes until he faced the table. He rushed over to reclaim
them but as he reached out to lay his hands upon them he found
himself staring down the barrel of an ominous weapon.
Sands"
weapon.
In his haste to own his weapons again he failed to
see the agent, dressed in black, hiding in the shadows.
“A
moment of your time, pirate.” Sands said. Despite his blindness,
Jack knew the agent’s capabilities. It was if he had developed a
sixth sense after the loss of his eyes. Jack straightened slowly.
“These be me weapons. Ye got no claim to them.” Sparrow
informed Sands.
“Oh, but see, that’s where you’re wrong,
Sparrow…oh, excuse my rudeness…Captain Sparrow. You are quite
unpredictable and dangerous, I might add, at certain times. Quite a
temper you have. So it was within my duties to disarm a dangerous
criminal. Best thing I did too, by the way I hear it, you weren’t
exactly mannerly towards Constable Crane. Seems your hot temper gave
the constable a hot mouth. Tsk, tsk…not playing nice are we?”
“There’d been no need for the assault if ye not taken me
letter.” Sparrow sneered.
“Ah, the letter. Quite a
dilemma that one is. Just trust me, Captain. It’s for the best of
all involved. Let’s just say, what happened in Mexico, should stay
in Mexico. Now, you can take the weapons, but you have to promise me
that there will be no hanky-panky with them.”
Sands waited,
tilting his head slightly to listening for the pirate’s response.
“I don’t hear your answer,” the agent said.
Sparrow
mulled over the agent’s request. It was better to agree, for to not
to meant he would not get back the sword or pistol.
“We
have an accord. But what about me letter?”
Sands sat back
into his chair, releasing the hammer on his gun and shoving it back
into his holster.
“Oh, let’s just say the letter for now
is under tight--ss security. I don’t think even you can crack open
the safe that it’s in.” Sands let himself laugh at his own
private joke.
Jack gathered the sword and pistol, his eyes
narrowed at Sands until he decided to go to the bar and try to get
his fill of the day’s rum. The letter, he surmised would have to
wait.
Meanwhile, DeMarco watched as BonBon left the bathroom
and crossed the room. He noticed that the lady had a different spring
to her step. He wondered if her thong was bothering her.
He
then concluded it was as she carefully attempted to adjust herself
before sitting down.
But what DeMarco could not know was that it
was not her underwear that was bothering the lady.