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Zeke open his eyes to the sight of the ambassador's legs, his cheek wet with drool. He attempted to sit up but his head throbbed where the ambassador hit him. Normally he'd be angry, but he deserved it. He shot the man, after all. He lay still for a few more minutes then attempted to sit up again. This time he was successful. He wiped his cheek with the palm of his hand then took stock of his situation. He was handcuffed, sitting on the cabin floor, his back against a stack of supplies. The ambassador sat beside him, staring ahead as if he was entranced.
"Mighty good lick you gave me, ambassador" Zeke said. "I guess I deserved it, shooting you and all."
The ambassador slowly turned toward him.
"I'm no ambassador," he said in an unfamiliar accent. "You know this."
Zeke reached up and rubbed his head. "Yeah, I know. But since I didn't know your name I chose to call you something polite. Better that calling you thief."
The man smirked. "I am Famara Keita."
Zeke nodded. "I'm Ezekiel Culpepper. Folks call me Zeke. I hate to ruin the pleasantries, but I'm gonna need that book back you stole," Zeke said.
"It was your employer who stole the book,” Famara countered. “I'm here to return it where it belongs."
"I don't care how Pierre came across that book,” Zeke confessed. “Hell, I don't understand why anyone would want an old book that bad. But I was paid to bring it back and I intend to."
"Your friend Pierre is a fool!" Famara said. "He displays a treasure as if it is a trinket. If he knew half of what he possessed he would have never had it on display and I never would have had the chance to steal it."
"Like I said, Famara, I don't care. I'm doing the job I was paid to do."
Famara studied him for a moment. "What if I paid you more?"
Zeke laughed. "What if you did? Can't say I wouldn't be tempted. But looking at our situation I don't think you can."
"I can pay you three times what Pierre is offering if you help me get the book."
Zeke eyes went wide. "You don't even know what he's paying me."
"It doesn't matter. I could do this alone, but having someone else to assist will expedite things. You have skill with weapons. That might be useful."
"If I agreed, not saying that I would, what good will it do? We're locked up on our way to England to be turned over to our ambassadors."
Famara picked at his sleeve. "There are some who feel they are superior to others. When they let such feelings rule them, they then become weak, for they tend to underestimate their adversaries."
Zeke watched Famara remove a narrow piece of metal from the cuff of his sleeve. In seconds he unlocked his handcuffs. He rubbed his wrists then squatted before Zeke.
"Now my friend, how much must I offer you to assist me?"
"Thirty gold eagles," Zeke lied. His hand reached instinctively for his cross.
Famara gave him a wide grin. "You're lying of course, but I'll pay it anyway."
He unlocked Zeke's cuffs.
"So seeing that you're an honest man, when do I get paid?"
Famara reached into his robe pocket then took out a fist full of gold eagles. He dropped them into Zeke's lap.
"I'll be damned, I mean....hell, I'll be damned!"
Zeke counted out the entire amount Famara promised. He gave 15 back to Famara.
"That's how I work. Half up front, the rest when the job's done."
Famara nodded. "I see we are both honest men."
Both men stood. Zeke searched about then found his guns. Famara returned with a shoulder bag.
"So what do we do now?" Zeke asked
"We wait until we reach London. The man on this ship, the Prussian, has friends there."
"Will we take him after he disembarks?"
"No. There is more to this than the book. We have to find out who else knows about it."
Zeke put on his hat. "Why all the fuss about this book? What's in it that's so special?"
Famara's face became serious. "The past, the present and the future."
They heard a door creak. They hid, Zeke taking out his gun. Famara shook his head. The airman came into view, Enfield in hand.
"What in the blazes?"
Famara wrapped the man in a choke hold. In seconds his arms fell limp and he sagged into Famara's arms. Zeke caught the rifle before it hit the floor; they dragged the man with them and waited.
"Ian? What are you doing in there?"
The second man entered and fell victim to Famara's hold.
"Are they dead?" Zeke asked.
"No, just unconscious."
Zeke pushed back the brim of his hat. "You got to teach me that."
Famara smiled. "Maybe I will."
They tied and gagged the two men then went to the port holes. London stretched out below them, its smokestacks and steam pipes fueling grey white clouds competing for sky with their natural brethren. The airship pilot positioned the craft over the platform. Zeke and Farama disappeared among the cargo as ship workers appeared then lowered the rope ladders both men used to get into the cabin. Zeke was about to head for the door when Famara pulled him back.
"We'll wait until the ship is almost empty. People of our kind are not so numerous here. We'll be easy to spot."
"Our kind?"
Famara touched his skin and Zeke nodded in understanding.
"You're the boss," Zeke said.
The airship was secured and the passengers departed. The Prussian was one of the first to disembark. He was immediately approached by two men in black top coats and top hats who escorted him to a large luxury steam car. They sped away.
"So how do we find him?" Zeke asked
Famara reached into his robe and extracted his compass watch.
"Come. I'll show you."