Battleship Raider by Paul Tomlinson (book recommendations website .txt) 📗

“It was just talk,” Jack said, “just a made-up story to pass the time.”

“I don’t think so,” Paulie said, pressing the improvised blade into Jack’s weathered skin. “You’re going to tell me where that wreck of yours lies – or I’m going to start cutting bits off you with this... this...”

“It’s a spoon,” Jack croaked, looking down cross-eyed at it.

“I spent a long time sharpening it for you,” Paulie said. He slashed a thin red line across Jack’s neck to prove it.

“You don’t have to hurt me,” Jack wailed. He was looking in my direction, hoping I’d intervene. I should have told him I wasn’t the hero type. “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” Jack said. “Just don’t hurt me.”

Maybe someone had told him and he was now appealing to my criminal nature. I’d have to rescue him if I wanted to stop him giving away the secret of the hidden treasure. I cursed him, pulling my boot back on. It felt clammy against my bare foot.

I hurled one of the white pebbles towards Augie, sending it over his left shoulder and just missing his head. While he was distracted by this, I started whirling the pebble in the sock round and round over my head and giving the sort of scream I imagined a suicidal warrior might give. I ran towards the big man.

The pebble hit Augie in the side of the head with a loud hollow thok! Everyone in the prison yard winced. Apart from Augie. He hardly seemed aware that he’d been hit. As I started swinging the sock again, he reached for it and clasped it in one of his massive hands. Before I knew what had happened, he pulled me towards him and wrapped an arm like a tree trunk around my neck and the sky started to go dark.

Up close, he smelled like a horse. I had a better view of his tattoos. On one arm was a harsh-looking woman in a provocative pose – his mother maybe. But the best image was on his right arm: a highly detailed skull with a snake threaded into its eye socket and out of its mouth. The work on the serpent’s scales was some of the best I’d seen. If I didn’t do something soon, it might be the last thing I ever saw.

“Hey, gorgeous, don’t hug me so tight,” I croaked.

“I’m going to kill you and scrack you while you’re still warm,” he growled.

“You’re a silver-tongued devil,” I said.

“I’m your worst nightmare.” His breath was warm in my ear.

“Actually, I have been dreaming about you,” I said, “ever since I saw you in the shower.” The arm around my throat relaxed – just a little.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“It means I’ve been wondering how it would feel to have your arms wrapped around me.”

“That so?” His grip relaxed a little more and I managed to squirm around and look up into his face. He was frowning. “You hit me with a rock.” His lower lip stuck out, big and wet and pink.

“A love tap to get your attention.”

“You already had that,” he said. He leaned down and planted a wet kiss on my forehead.

“He’s pretty – can I keep him, Paulie? Can I?” Augie mocked.

“Have you two lovebirds finished?” Paulie snapped.

Augie ignored him. “I bet you’ve never been with a real man.”

“I never met anyone quite like you.” I stroked the front of his sweatpants.

“I’m not wearing anything under them,” he whispered.

Under different circumstances this might have been fun. I grabbed his scronies, squeezed hard and twisted. Augie cried out in surprise and it became a bellow of pain. He went down on his knees and I went down too, not daring to let go. If he got free, he’d break my neck.

“Don’t move,” I warned. I held a knife close to the bulge of cloth and scronies that I was holding on to. It was a big hunting knife, bright and with a sharp edge. I’d lifted it from Grainger when I took his money.

Augie had tears in his eyes and he was looking at me like I had betrayed him. He was lying on his back now with his arms above his head in surrender.

“Sorry, handsome,” I said. I looked over to Paulie Pickles. “Drop the blade or Augie sings castrato.”

Paulie hesitated.

“Drop it,” Augie squeaked.

There was another moment’s hesitation, then Paulie dropped the shiv. Old Jack bent and snatched it up, grinning triumphantly.

“You shouldn’t bring a spoon to a knife fight,” I said.

Paulie spat at me.

I looked at Augie. Sweat streamed down his face and he looked like he was on the verge of puking. I didn’t think he’d give me any trouble if I released him. At least for a little while. I let go and backed away, still keeping the knife ready. Augie just lay in the dirt clutching his groin and making weak groaning noises. I felt for him, every man in the yard did.

“Maybe you can bribe Grainger to bring him some ice for the swelling,” I said to Paulie.

“My eggs hurt,” Augie wailed, “I think he broke them.”

Paulie scowled. “You know what you are?”

“A smart guy with a big knife?”

“You’re a dead man!”

“Say something nice at my funeral.” I turned my back on him and walked away. Old Jack scurried after me.

“You never said he’d hurt me,” Augie whined.

“They’ll kill you for this,” Jack said, “the first chance they get. You’ll have to watch your back. And I’ll watch it for you. I won’t forget what you done for me, Quin. You’re a good man.”

“I’m not worried about them,” I said. “But O’Keefe is a different matter.”

“Who’s O’Keefe?” Jack asked, confused.

“Trouble.” If O’Keefe arrived I’d be facing worse than a charge of taking a sand yacht without consent. I found myself scanning the layout of the prison. “I’m going over the wall. Tonight,” I said.

“That’s crazy!” Jack protested. “The guards will shoot you before you’re half over. And even if you make it, they’ll hunt you