P.J. Alderman - Ghost Ship

Yardley’s fists clenched. “If I find out you’ve had anything to do with my men’s deaths, Seavey, by God, I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing,” Michael interrupted, “unless you want me to reveal your latest side business to your superiors. Do not threaten me, Yardley—you will be the loser in that battle.”

Yardley laughed harshly. “Everyone knows you’ve lost your stomach for violence, Seavey. Your threats are empty.”

“If you want to put that rumor to the test, just say the word, and I’ll be happy to oblige.” He arced his cigar into the water. “I’ve other business to attend.”

Yardley stood for a moment, his harsh breathing audible over the background hum of freight loading on the wharf. Turning on his heel, he stalked away.

Michael looked at Remy, who had appeared silently at his side. “Bring Garrett,” he ordered softly. “If the fool resists, employ force.”

Chapter 13

A particularly deafening crash brought Jordan out of 1893 and back to the present. Loud swearing ensued, followed by more crashes. Dust floated down from the porch ceiling, and a film of brown stuff settled on the surface of her tea.

Sighing, she got up and took her documents to the kitchen so she could make herself another cup of Earl Grey. While it brewed, she stood next to the counter, reading the sheaf of pages she held in her hand.

Payment in Kind

Port Chatham waterfront

July 23, 1893

UNSETTLED by Yardley’s accusations, Michael took a few minutes to stroll along the waterfront. If Garrett was responsible for the deaths of two Customs agents, then he’d become an unacceptable liability and must be dealt with accordingly. This, in turn, meant that Michael must be ready to take over the regular shipments of opium so his customers experienced no fluctuations in their supply.

He stopped to watch the activity out on the bay while he considered his options. All was in place and would be ready, his people had just assured him, for the launching of his new enterprise, which would combine luxurious accommodations aboard the Henrietta Dale with passage to and from Victoria. All that remained was that he notify his Canadian suppliers that his man Remy would be replacing Garrett.

Passengers aboard the clipper ship could sail in complete comfort, take in a day of sightseeing in the charming town of Victoria if they wished, then return. His cruises would become the talk of the town, a sought-after social event. They would also provide him with the contraband he needed to ensure a steady supply of profits from the distribution and sale of the heavenly demon.

He smiled to himself. Yes, indeed, his plans should provide a lucrative revenue stream. Perhaps he would even enjoy the occasional outing himself. And truly, he no longer needed Sam Garrett.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Jesse Canby hovering nearby. Turning, he nodded a greeting to him.

The young man was ill-kempt indeed, his expensive clothes falling limply about his emaciated frame, his complexion sallow, his eyes sunken. It appeared that Canby’s addiction had progressed even further than Michael had realized. There was good reason for the observation among opium-smoking circles that its addicts resembled melancholy ghosts.

“Canby,” he said. “A nice morning, is it not?”

Jesse approached, reaching out a shaking hand to clutch at Michael’s jacket sleeve. Several days’ growth roughened Canby’s cheeks. Michael took a careful step back, breaking the contact.

“I need more opium,” Jesse pleaded in a low voice, his eyes taking on a look of desperation. “Do you have any?”

“You know I don’t handle the sale of the stuff directly,” Michael replied in a lowered voice.

“Then tell me where your man is—I need it as soon as possible.”

“This would be for your personal use?”

“Yes.”

Michael considered him, silently debating. “You might want to lay off the stuff, Canby. I suspect it’s doing you a great deal of harm.”

Canby shook his head bleakly. “What does it matter, one way or the other?”

“It matters a great deal to your family. And frankly, having one’s customers die off is bad for business.”

The young man’s eyes blazed. “Do you want to sell me the drug or not? I can always go to one of the Chinese instead.”

Michael studied him for a moment longer, then he shrugged. “You’ll find Remy on Union Wharf, I believe. Tell him I sent you.”

“Thank you.” With an unsteady bow, the young man left, walking rapidly in the direction of the wharf. Michael sighed, turning to continue his walk, only to find himself face-to-face with Eleanor Canby.

She stood rigidly, fists clenched at her sides, her face flushed with anger. “My son buys his drugs from you?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you believe you just overheard, Eleanor, but I can assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me!” she yelled.

Michael quickly took her arm and drew her to a less-crowded portion of the sidewalk, near the entrance to an alley. “Kindly keep your voice down, Eleanor. You are attracting notice.”

“I don’t care!” she spit. “ You are the reason my son’s health deteriorates daily! Dr. Willoughby and I have him on a strict regimen of prescribed laudanum, hoping to withdraw him from your beastly contraband. And yet amoral purveyors like you continue to supply him!”

“I thought you had washed your hands of Jesse.”

“He is my son , Seavey.”

“Indeed, he is,” Michael agreed soothingly. “Nonetheless, since you persist in trying to rid Jesse of an addiction by supplying him with the very drug you are withdrawing, I don’t see the reason for concern.”

“We are cutting back the dosage slowly and carefully,” Eleanor explained impatiently. “Not that it’s any business of yours.”

“You’d do well to have someone counsel Jesse for his mental condition, if you want to solve his addiction to opium,” Michael observed. “The opium is merely a symptom of underlying problems that have been present since adolescence, I suspect.”

“How dare you suggest that my son is unbalanced,” Eleanor hissed, glancing around to ensure that no one could hear her. “My family does not suffer from such afflictions. You are merely attempting to absolve yourself from any blame in this matter. I demand that you have no further contact with Jesse, and that you refrain from selling him any drugs.”

“My dear Eleanor,” Michael sighed. “As to the first, your son is an adult and may socialize with whomever he pleases. Though I don’t seek out Jesse’s company, I have no control over where he spends his time. And as to the second, I believe we’ve already established that I have no business dealings in the area we’re discussing.”

Eleanor’s shoulders shook with rage. “Cease to supply my son with drugs, Seavey, or my next editorial will name names. And you and your wretched business partner, Garrett, will have places of honor at the top of my list.”

“Such threats could cause the loss of your paper and your coveted position as its editor-in-chief, Eleanor. I advise you to proceed cautiously.”

“Do not threaten what you cannot accomplish.” Her coarse features were flushed, her eyes burning with fanaticism. “My position as owner and editor of the Port Chatham Weekly Gazette is inviolable. Now I bid you a good day, Mr. Seavey.”

Frowning, Michael watched her sweep away. The publication of his and Garrett’s names was a threat he could no longer ignore. And unfortunately, given Eleanor’s level of desperation with regard to her son’s health, Michael could no longer count on her exercising any sense of caution.