Текст книги "Birds of Prey"

Автор книги: Wilbur Smith

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"No," replied Sir Francis, still looking into the yellow eyes before him. "The prisoner has no knowledge of the cargo of which you speak."

"I beg you to reconsider, sir," Hop whispered hoarsely. "I have a delicate disposition. I suffer with my stomach."

For the men on the windswept scaffolding the hours passed with agonizing slowness. Their -eyes kept turning back towards the small, insignificant door below the armoury steps. There was no sound or movement from there, until suddenly, in the middle of the cold rainswept morning, the door burst open and Jacobus Hop scuttled out into the courtyard. He tottered to the officers" hitching rail and hung onto one of the iron rings as though his legs could no longer support him. He seemed oblivious to everything around him as he stood gasping for breath like a man freshly rescued from drowning.

All work on the walls came to a halt. Even Hugo Barnard and his overseers stood silent and subdued, gazing down at the miserable little clerk. With every eye upon him, Hop suddenly doubled over and vomited over the cobbles. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked around him wildly as though seeking an avenue of escape.

He lurched away from the hitching rail and set off at a run, across the yard and up the staircase into the Governor's quarters. One of the sentries at the top of the stairs tried to restrain him but Hop shouted, "I have to speak to his excellency," and brushed past him.

He burst unannounced into the Governor's audience chamber. Van de Velde sat at the head of the long, polished table. Four burghers from the town were seated below him, and he was laughing at something that had just been said.

The laughter died on his fat lips as Hop stood trembling at the threshold, his face deathly pale, his eyes filled with tears. His boots were flecked with vomit.

"How dare you, Hop?" van de Velde thundered, as he dragged his bulk out of the chair. "How dare you burst in here like this?"

"Your excellency," Hop stammered, "I cannot do it. I cannot go back into that room. Please don't insist that I do it. Send somebody else."

"Get back there immediately," van de Velde ordered. "This is your last chance, Hop. I warn you, you will do your duty like a man or suffer for it."

"You don't understand." Hop was blubbering openly now. "I can't do it. You have no idea what is happening in there. I can't-" "Go! Go immediately, or you will receive the same treatment."

Hop backed out slowly and van de Velde shouted after him, "Shut those doors behind you, worm."

Hop staggered back across the silent courtyard like a blind man, his eyes filled again with tears. At the little door he stood and visibly braced himself. Then he flung himself through it and disappeared from the view of the silent watchers.

In the middle of the afternoon the door opened again and Slow John came out into the courtyard. As always he was dressed in the dark suit and tall Hat. His face was serene and his gait slow and stately as he passed out through the castle gates and took the avenue up through his gardens towards the residence.

Minutes after he had gone, Hop rushed out of the armoury and across to the main block. He came back leading the Company surgeon, who carried his leather bag, and disappeared down the armoury stairs. A long time afterwards the surgeon emerged and spoke briefly to Manseer and his men, who were hovering at the door.

The sergeant saluted and he and his men went down the stairs. When they came out again Sir Francis was with them. He could not walk unaided, and his hands and feet were swaddled in bandages. Red stains had already soaked through the cloth.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, they have killed him," Hal whispered as they dragged his father, legs dangling and head hanging, across the yard.

Almost as if he had heard the words, Sir Francis lifted his head and looked up at him. Then he called in a clear, high voice, "Hal, remember your oath!"

"I love you, Father!" Hal shouted back, choking on the words with sorrow, and Barnard slashed his whip across his back.

"Get back to work, you bastard."

That evening as the file of convicts shuffled down the staircase past the door of his father's cell, Hal paused and called softly, "I pray God and all his saints to protect you, Father."

He heard his father move on the rustling mattress of straw, and then, after a long moment, his voice. "Thank you, my son. God grant us both the strength to endure the days ahead." from behind the shutters of her bedroom Katinka watched the tall figure of Slow John &-Fcoming up the avenue from the Parade. He passed out of her sight behind the stone wall at the bottom of the lawns and she knew he was going directly to his cottage. She had been waiting half the day for his return, and she was impatient. She placed the bonnet on her head, inspected her image in the mirror and was not satisfied. She looped a coil of her hair, arranged it carefully over her shoulder, then smiled at her reflection and left the room through the small door out to the back veranda. She followed the paved path under the naked black vines that covered the pergola, stripped of their last russet leaves by the onset of the winter gales.

Slow John's cottage stood alone at the edge of the forest. There was no person in the colony, no matter how lowly his station, who would live with him as a neighbour. When she reached it Katinka found the front door open and she went in without a knock or hesitation. The single room was bare as a hermit's cell. The floors were coated with cow dung, and the air smelled of stale smoke and the cold ashes on the open hearth. A simple bed, a single table and chair were the only furniture.

As she paused in the centre of the room she heard water splashing in the back yard and she followed the sound.

Slow John stood beside the water trough. He was naked to the waist, and he was scooping water from the trough with a leather bucket and pouring it over his head.

He looked up at her, with the water trickling from his sodden hair down his chest and arms. His limbs were covered with the hard flat muscle of a professional wrestler or, she thought whimsically, of a Roman gladiator.

"You are not surprised to see me here," Katinka stated. It was not a question for she could see the answer in his flat gaze.

"I was expecting you. I was expecting the Goddess Kali. Nobody else would dare come here," he said, and Katinka blinked at this unusual form of address.

She sat down on the low stone wall beside the pump, and was silent for a while. Then she asked, "Why do you call me that?" The death of Zelda had forged a strange, mystic bond between them.

"In Trincomalee, on the beautiful island of Ceylon beside the sacred Elephant Pool, stands the temple of Kali. I went there every day that I was in the colony. Kali is the Hindu Goddess of death and destruction. I worship her." She knew then that he was mad. The knowledge intrigued her, and made the fine, colourless hairs on her forearms stand erect.

She sat for a long time in silence and watched him complete his toilet. He squeezed the water from his hair with both hands, and then wiped down those lean, hard limbs with a square of cloth. He pulled on his undershirt, then picked up the dark coat from where it hung over the wall, shrugged into it and buttoned it to his chin.

At last he looked at her. "You have come to hear about my little sparrow." With that fine melodious voice he should have been a preacher or an operatic tenor, she thought.

"Yes,"she said. "That is why I have come."

It was as though he had read her thoughts. He knew exactly what she wanted and he began to speak without hesitation. He told her what had taken place that day in the room below the armoury. He omitted no detail. He almost sang the words, making the terrible acts he was describing sound as noble and inevitable as the lyrics from some Greek tragedy. He transported her, so that she hugged her own arms and began to rock slowly back and forth on the wall as she listened.

When he had finished speaking she sat for a long while with a rapturous expression on her lovely face. At last she shuddered softly and said, "You may continue to call me Kali. But only when we are alone. No one else must ever hear you speak the name."

"Thank you, Goddess." His pale eyes glowed with an almost religious fervour as he watched her go to the gate in the wall.

There she paused and, without looking round at him, she asked, "Why do you call him your little sparrow?"

Slow John shrugged. "Because from this day onwards he belongs to me. They all belong to me and to the Goddess Kali, for ever." Katinka gave a small ecstatic shiver at those words, then walked on down the path through the gardens towards the residence. Every step of the way she could feel his gaze upon her.

Sukeena was waiting for her when she returned to the residence. "You sent for me, mistress."

"Come with me, Sukeena."

She led the girl to her closet, and seated herself on the chaise-longue in front of the shuttered window. She gestured for Sukeena to stand before her. "Governor Kleinhans often discussed your skills as a physician," Katinka said. "Who taught you?"

"My mother was an adept. At a very young age I would go out with her to gather the plants and herbs. After her death I studied with my uncle."

"Do you know the plants here? Are they not different from those of the land where you were born?"

"There are some that are the same, and the others I have taught myself."

Katinka already knew all this from Kleinhans, but she enjoyed the music of the slave girl's voice. "Sukeena, yesterday my mare stumbled and almost threw me. My leg was caught on the saddle horn, and I have an ugly mark. My skin bruises easily. Do you have in your chest of medicines one that will heal it for me?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Here!" Katinka leaned back on the sofa, and drew her skirts high above her knees. Slowly and sensually she rolled down one of the white stockings. "Look!" she ordered, and Sukeena sank gracefully to the silk carpet in front of her. Her touch was as soft upon the skin as a butterfly alighting on a flower, and Katinka sighed. "I can feel that you have healing hands."

Sukeena did not reply and a wave of her dark hair hid her eyes.

"How old are you?" Katinka asked.

Sukeena's fingers stopped for an instant and then moved on to explore the bruise that spread around the back of her mistress's knee. "I was born in the year of the Tiger," she said, "so on my next birthday I will be eighteen years of age.-) "You are very beautiful, Sukeena. But, then, you know that, don't you?"

"I do not feel beautiful, mistress. I do not think a slave can ever feel beautiful."

"What a droll notion." Katinka did not hide her annoyance at this turn in the conversation. "Tell me, is your brother as beautiful as you are?"

Again Sukeena's fingers trembled on her skin. Ah! That shaft went home. Katinka smiled softly in the silence, and then asked, "Did you hear my question, Sukeena?"

"To me Althuda is the most beautiful man who has ever lived upon this earth," Sukeena replied softly, and then regretted having said it.

She knew instinctively that it was dangerous to allow this woman to discover those areas where she was most vulnerable, but she could not recall the words.

"How old is Althuda?"

"He is three years older than I am." Sukeena kept her eyes downcast. "I need to fetch my medicines, mistress."

"I shall wait for you to return," Katinka replied. "Be quick."

Katinka lay back against the cushions and smiled or frowned at the vivid procession of images and words that ran through her mind. She felt expectant and elated, and at the same time restless and dissatisfied. Slow John's words sounded in her head like cathedral bells. They disturbed her. She could not remain still a moment longer. She sprang to her feet and prowled around the closet like a hunting leopard. "Where is that girl?" she demanded, and then she glimpsed her own reflection in the long mirror and turned back to consider it.

"Kali!" she whispered, and smiled. "What a marvelous name. What a secret and splendid name."

She saw Sukeena's image appear in the mirror behind her but she did not turn immediately. The girl's dark beauty was a perfect foil for her own. She considered their two faces together, and felt the excitement charge her nerves and sing through her veins.

"I have the salve for your injury, mistress." Sukeena stood close behind her, but her eyes were fathomless.

"Thank you, my little sparrow," Katinka whispered. I want you to belong to me for ever, she thought. I want you to belong to Kali.

She turned back to the sofa and Sukeena knelt before her again. At first the salve was cool on the skin of her leg, and then a warm glow spread from it. Sukeena's fingers were cunning and skilful.

"I hate to see something beautiful destroyed needlessly," Katinka whispered. "You say your brother is beautiful. Do you love him very much, Sukeena?"

When there was no reply Katinka reached down and cupped her hand under Sukeena's chin. She lifted her face so that she could look into her eyes. The agony she saw there made her pulse race.

"My poor little sparrow," she said. I have touched the deepest place in her soul, she exulted. As she removed her hand she let her fingers trail across the girl's cheek.

"This hour I have come from Slow John," she said, "but you saw me on the path. You were watching me, were you not?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Shall I repeat to you what Slow John told me? Shall I tell you about his special room at the castle, and what happens there?" Katinka" did not wait for the girl to reply but went on speaking quietly. When Sukeena's fingers stilled she broke off her narrative to order, "Do not stop what you are doing, Sukeena You have a magical touch."

When at last she finished speaking, Sukeena was weeping without a sound. Her tears were slow and viscous as drops of oil squeezed from the olive press. They glistened against the red gold of her cheeks. After a while Katinka asked, "How long has your brother been in the castle? I have heard that it is four months since he came back from the mountains to fetch you. Such a long time, and he has not been tried, no sentence passed upon him."

Katinka waited, letting the moments fall, a slow drop at a time, slow as the girl's tears. "Governor Kleinhans was remiss, or was he persuaded by somebody, I wonder. But my husband is an energetic and dedicated man. He will not let justice be denied. No renegade can escape him long."

Now Sukeena was no longer making any pretence, she stared at Katinka with stricken eyes as she went on, "He will send Althuda to the secret room with Slow John. Althuda will be beautiful no longer. What a dreadful pity. What can we do to prevent that happening?"

"Mistress," Sukeena whispered, "your husband, he has the power. It is in his hands."

"My husband is a servant of the Company, a loyal and unbending servant. He will not flinch from his duty." "Mistress, you are so beautiful. No man can deny you.

You can persuade him." Sukeena slowly lowered her head and placed it on Katinka's bare knee. "With all my heart, with all my soul, I beg you, mistress."

"What would you do to save your brother's life?" Katinka asked. "What price would you pay, my little sparrow?" "There is no price too high, no sacrifice from which I would turn aside. Everything and anything you ask of me, mistress."

"We could never hope to set him free, Sukeena You understand that, don't you?" Katinka asked gently. Nor would I ever wish that, she thought, for while the brother is in the castle the little sparrow is safely in my cage.

"I will not even let myself hope for that."

Sukeena lifted her head and again Katinka cupped her chin, this time with both her hands, and she leaned forward slowly. "Althuda shall not die. We will save him from Slow John, you and I," she promised, and kissed Sukeena full on the mouth. The girl's lips were wet with her tears. They tasted hot and salty, almost like blood. Slowly Sukeena opened her lips, like the petals of an orchid opening to the sunbird's beak as it quests for nectar.

Althuda. Sukeena steeled herself with the thought of her brother, as without breaking the kiss Katinka took her hand and moved it slowly up under her skirts until it lay on her smooth white belly. Althuda, this is for you, and for you alone, Sukeena told herself silently, as she closed her eyes and her fingers crept timorously over the satiny belly, down into the nest of fine dense golden curls at the base.

The next day dawned in a cloudless sky. Although the air was chill the sun was IT brilliant and the wind had dropped. From the scaffold Hal watched the closed door to the dungeons. Daniel stayed close by his side, in taking Hal's share of the work on his broad shoulders he was shielding him from Barnard's lash.

When Slow John came through the gates and crossed the courtyard to the armoury, with his measured undertaker's tread, Hal stared down at him with stricken eyes. Suddenly, as he passed below the scaffold, Hal snatched up the heavy mason's hammer that lay on the planking at his feet and lifted it to hurl. it down and crush the executioner's skull.

But Daniel's great fist closed around his wrist. He eased the hammer from Hal's grip, as though he were taking a toy from a child, and placed it on top of the wall beyond his reach.

"Why did you do that?" Hal protested. "I could have killed the swine."

"To no purpose," Daniel told him, with compassion. "You cannot save Sir Francis by killing an underling, You would sacrifice your own life and achieve nothing by it. They would simply send another to your father."

Manseer brought Sir Francis up from the dungeons. He could not walk unaided on his broken bandaged feet, but his head was high as they dragged him across the courtyard.

"Father!" Hal screamed, in torment. "I cannot let this happen."

Sir Francis looked up at him, and called in a voice just loud enough to reach him on the high wall, "Be strong, my son. For my sake, be strong." Manseer forced him down the steps below the armoury.

The day was long, longer than any that Hal had ever lived through, and the north side of the courtyard was in deep shadow when at last Slow John re-emerged from below the armoury.

"This time I will kill the poisonous swine," Hal blurted, but again Daniel held him in a grip that he could not shake off as the executioner walked slowly beneath the scaffold and out through the castle gates.

Hop came scampering into the courtyard, his face ghastly. He summoned the Company surgeon and the two men disappeared once more down the stairs. This time the soldiers brought out Sir Francis on a litter.

"Father!" Hal shouted down to him, but there was neither reply nor sign of life in response.

"I have warned you often enough," Hugo Barnard bellowed at him. He strode out onto the boards and laid half a dozen whip strokes across his back. Hal made no attempt to avoid the blows, and Barnard stepped back astonished that he showed no pain. "Any more of your imbecile chattering, and I will put the dogs onto you," he promised, as he turned away. Meanwhile, in the courtyard, the Company surgeon watched gravely as the soldiers carried Sir Francis's unconscious form down to his cell. Then, accompanied by Hop, he set off for the Governor's suite on the south side of the courtyard.

Van de Velde looked up in irritation from the papers that littered his desk. "Yes? What is it, Doctor Soar? I am a busy man. I hope you have not come here to waste my time." "it is the prisoner, your excellency." The surgeon looked flustered and apologetic at the same time. Van de Velde did not allow him to continue but turned on Hop, who stood nervously behind the doctor, twisting his Hat in his fingers.

"Well, Hop, has the pirate succumbed yet? Has he told us what we want to know?" he shouted, and Hop retreated a pace.

"He is so stubborn. I would never have believed it possible, that any human being-" He broke off in a long, tormented stammer.

"I hold you responsible, Hop." Van de Velde came menacingly from behind his desk. He was warming to this sport of baiting the miserable little clerk, but the surgeon intervened.

"Your excellency, I fear for the prisoner's life. Another day of questioning he may not survive it."

Van de Velde rounded on him now. "That, doctor, is the main object of this whole business. Courtney is a man condemned to death. He will die, and you have my solemn word on that." He went back to his desk and lowered himself into the soft chair. "Don't come here to give me news of his imminent decease. All I want to know from you is whether or not he is still capable of feeling pain, and if he is capable of speaking or at least giving some sign of understanding the question. Well, is he, doctor?" Van de Velde glared.

"Your excellency," the doctor removed his eye-glasses and polished the lenses vigorously as he composed a reply. He knew what van de Velde wanted to hear, and he knew also that it was not politic to deny him. "At the moment the prisoner is not cmnpos mentis."

Van de Velde scowled and cut in, "What of the executioner's vaunted skills? I thought he never lost a prisoner, not unintentionally anyway."

"Sir, I am not disparaging the skills of the state executioner. I am sure that by tomorrow the prisoner will have recovered consciousness."

"You mean that tomorrow he will be healthy enough to continue questioning?"

"Yes, your excellency. That is my opinion."

"Well, Mijnheer, I will hold you to that. If the pirate dies before he can be formally executed in accordance with the judgement of the court, you will answer to me. The populace must see justice performed. It is no good the man passing peacefully away in a closed room below the walls. We want him out there on the Parade for all to see. I want an example made of him, do you understand?"

"Yes, your excellency." The doctor backed towards the door.

"You too, Hop. Do you understand, dolt? I want to know where he has hidden the galleon's cargo, and then I want a good rousing execution. For your own good, you had better deliver both those things."

"Yes, your excellency."

"I want to speak to Slow John. Send him to me before he starts work tomorrow morning. I want to make certain that he fully understands his responsibilities."

"I will bring the executioner to you myself," Hop promised. it was dark when Hugo Barnard stopped work on the walls and ordered the lines of exhausted prisoners down into the courtyard. As Hal passed his father's cell on the way down the staircase, he called desperately to him, "Father, can you hear me?"

When there was no reply, he hammered on the door with both his fists. "Father, speak to me. In the name of God, speak to me!" For once Manseer was indulgent. He made no attempt to force Hal to move on down the staircase and Hal pleaded again, "Please, Father. It's Hal, your son. Do you not know me?"

"Hal," croaked a voice he did not recognize. "Is that you, my boy?"

"Oh, God!" Hal sank to his knees and pressed his forehead to the panel. "Yes, Father. It is me."

"Be strong, my son. It will not be for much longer, but I charge you, if you love me, then keep the oath."

"I cannot let you suffer. I cannot let this go on."

"Hal!" His father's voice was suddenly powerful again. "There is no more suffering. I have passed that point. They cannot hurt me now, except through you."

"What can I do to ease you? Tell me, what can I do?" Hal pleaded.

"There is only one thing you can do now. Let me take with me the knowledge of your strength and your fortitude. If you fail me now, it will all have been in vain."

Hal bit into the knuckles of his own clenched fist, drawing blood in the vain attempt to stifle his sobs. His father's voice came again.

"Daniel, are you there?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Help him. Help my son to be a man." "I give you my promise, Captain."

Hal raised his head, and his voice was stronger. "I do not need anybody to help me. I will keep my faith with you, Father. I will not betray your trust."

"Farewell, Hal." Sir Francis's voice began to fade, as though he were falling into an infinite pit. "You are my blood and my promise of eternal life. Goodbye, my life."

The following morning when they carried Sir Francis up from the dungeon Hop and Doctor AT Soar walked on either side of the litter. They were both worried men, for there was no sign of life in the broken figure that lay between them. Even when Hal defied Barnard's whip, and called down to him from the walls, Sir Francis did not raise his head. They took him down the stairs to where Slow John already waited, but within a few minutes all three came out into the sunlight, Soar, Hop and Slow John, and stood talking quietly for a short while. Then they walked together across to the Governor's suite and mounted the stairs.

Van de Velde was standing by the stained-glass window, peering out at the shipping that lay anchored off the foreshore. Late the previous evening, another Company galleon had come into Table Bay and he was expecting the ship's captain to call upon him to pay his respects and to present an order for provisions and stores. Van de Velde turned impatiently from the window to face the three men as they filed into his chamber.

"Ja, Hop?" He looked at his favourite victim. "You have remembered my orders, for once, hey? You have brought the state executioner to speak to me." He turned to Slow John. "So, has the pirate told you where he has hidden the treasure? Come on, fellow, speak up."

Slow John's expression did not change as he said softly, "I have worked carefully not to damage the respondent beyond usefulness. But I am nearing the end. Soon he will no longer hear my voice, nor be sensible to any further persuasion."

"You have failed?" van de Velde's voice trembled with anger.

"No, not yet," said Slow John. "He is strong. I would never have believed how strong. But there is still the rack. I do not believe that he will be able to withstand the rack. No man can weather the rack."

"You have not used it yet?" van de Velde demanded. "Why not?"

"To me it is the last resort. Once they have been racked, there is nothing left. It is the end."

"Will it work with this one?" van de Velde wanted to know. "What happens if he still resists?"

"Then there is only the scaffold and the gibbet," said Slow John.

Slowly van de Velde turned to Doctor Soar. "What is your opinion, doctor?"

"Your excellency, if you require an execution then it should be carried out very soon after the man is racked." "How soon? "van de Velde demanded.

"Today. Before nightfall. After racking, he will not last the night."

Van de Velde turned back to Slow John. "You have disappointed me.

I am displeased." Slow John did not seem to hear the rebuke. His eyes did not even flicker as he stared back at van de Velde. "However, we must do what we can to make the best of this whole sorry business. I will order the execution for three o'clock this afternoon. In the meantime you are to go back and place the pirate on the rack."

"I understand, your excellency," said Slow John.

"You have failed me once. Do not do so again. He must be alive when he goes to the scaffold." Van de Velde turned to the clerk. "Hop, send messengers through the town. I am declaring the rest of today to be a holiday throughout the colony, except for the work on the castle walls, of course. Francis Courtney will be executed at three o'clock this afternoon. Every burgher in the colony must be there. I want all to see how we deal with a pirate. Oh, and by the way, make certain that Mevrouw van de Velde is informed. She will be very angry if she misses the sport." two o'clock they brought Sir Francis Courtney on a litter from the cell below the A-Aarmoury. They had not bothered to cover his naked body. Even from high up on the south wall of the castle, and with his vision blurred by his tears, Hal could see that his father's body had been grotesquely deformed by the rack. Every one of the great joints in his limbs and at his shoulders and pelvis were dislocated, swollen and bruised purple black.

An execution detail of green-jackets was drawn up in the courtyard. Led by an officer with a drawn sword, they fell in around the litter. Twenty men marched in front, and twenty followed behind, their muskets at the slope. The tap-tap tap-tap of the death drum set the pace. The procession snaked through the castle gates, out onto the Parade.

Daniel placed his arm around Hal's shoulder, as the boy watched, white-faced and shivering, in the icy wind. Hal made no move to pull away from him. Those seamen who had coverings for their heads removed them, unwinding the filthy rags and standing grim and silent as the bier passed beneath them.

"God bless you, Captain," Ned Tyler called out. "You were as good a man as ever hoisted sail!" There was a hoarse and ragged cheer from the others, and one of Hugo Barnard's huge black hounds bayed mournfully, a strangely harrowing sound.

Out on the Parade the crowd waited around the gibbet in tense and expectant silence. Every living soul in the colony seemed to have answered the summons. Above their heads Slow John waited high on the platform. He wore his leather apron, and his head was covered with the mask of his office, the mask of death. His eyes and his mouth were all that showed through the slits in the black cloth.

Led by the drummer the procession marched with slow and measured tread towards him, and Slow John waited with his arms folded over his chest. Even he turned his head as the Governor's carriage came down the avenue through the gardens, and crossed the Parade. Slow John bowed to the Governor and his wife as Aboli guided the six grey horses to the foot of the scaffold and brought the vehicle to a halt.

Slow John's yellow eyes met those of Katinka through the slits in his black head cloth He bowed again, this time to her directly. She knew, without words being spoken, that he was dedicating the sacrifice to her, to his Goddess Kali.

"He has no reason to act so grand. The oaf has made a botch of the job so far," van de Velde said grumpily. "He has killed the man without getting a word out of him. I don't know what your father and the other members of the Seventeen are going to say when they hear that the cargo is lost. They are going to blame me, of course. They always do."