Letter from Colonel:

Dear Manouche,

I'm not sure where to reach you, so I'll just write you a letter and hope you get it and read it on your own time.  I know you have many others to attend to.  I just run into you every so often, less than I'd like to, but again, you have other people to take care of.

I'm at Chez Roux, and thought of you after Portsmith dismissed me.  I'm not sure how much longer I can suck up.  Oh well.  At first she said I wasn't allowed to talk with the pirates, but she changed her mind.  She says to stay close with them.  She asks if they trust me.

Abberline and I were supposed to figure out where Portsmith's painting went to.  She wants me to bring it back when Corso took it, replaced it and sold it.  So I'm not sure how to get it back.  I said I had to go to Spain, that I had a lead.  Well, Portsmith says that I'm not allowed to speak or interact with Abberline at all anymore.

Well I'll get this to you.  Hope we can talk and that I can see you soon.

Much love,

Colonel

At Colonel and Hanson’s house:

*Wilko flies up to Hansons’ house, lands on front steps, leaves an envelope next to door; flies away*

Dear Colonel,

I received your letter and I’m not quite sure what to say, or what you would like to hear from me.  I know you’ve been trying to do this juggling act for awhile, but in my opinion, it’s impossible.  You can’t play both sides of the fence and expect either of them to work completely.  You can pursue your career in law enforcement and still be casual friends with us pirates.  But if you choose to work as Commander Portsmith’s spy and confidante, I know I can speak for myself, Kidd, O’Malley and the rest of the pirate contingent when I say we’ll be playing close to the vest with you, as it were.  To get along with Portsmith and the pirates alike is one thing; to work directly for Portsmith and to tell both sides they can trust you is quite another.  It can’t be done, mate.

Take Willy, for example.  He manages to keep on the good side of everyone … but he’s not working for the Commander, leading her to believe he’ll get information from the pirates, then telling the pirates their secrets are safe with him, that he won’t be repeating them to the Commander.  He treats Portsmith relatively respectfully (when he’s not imitating her or sticking his tongue out at her!), disagrees with her when he believes she’s wrong, and makes it clear to her that she won’t influence his friendships with the likes of us scallywags.  And somehow, he makes it work; the Commander is charmed by him, she genuinely respects him; as a result, they continually agree to disagree.  See the difference?

You can work for Portsmith, but you may as well tell her up front that you won’t be able to be her spy on the pirates’ activities, because word has already spread and the trust is gone.  You’re still my friend, but I won’t be sharing any secrets with you; not so much because I believe that you would go running to Portsmith with them, but more because, knowing you’re working closely with her, something could accidentally slip out.  She’s very sharp, and she has ways of getting information from people, even when they don’t intend to share it.  Also, a word of warning to you:  chances are, Portsmith is already well aware of your double-dealing, your divided loyalties, your talk of "sucking up" to her.  She's probably watching and waiting for you to trip yourself up.  So take care, mate, don’t cross her.  We may all have a laugh at her on occasion, and we may find her pontificating ridiculous – but she wields a lot of power in this town, and she is nobody’s fool.

I wish you luck on the investigation of the paintings (at least regarding this particular mystery, I have no information I could give you, even if I wanted to); and if you choose to continue to work closely with the Commander, I understand and see the value in that, insofar as your career.  You and I will always be mates; just don’t be asking me any questions, savvy?  If you’re truly off to Spain, safe travel to you, and I hope you and Hanson can get in a little relaxation time there; it’s very beautiful, and this is a dashed brilliant time of year to go.

Love from Mr. Blake and myself,

Manouche

At Chez Roux:

Abberline *At Chez Roux, having arrived in good time to meet Messrs. Black and Brown, and left the others outside waiting, orders himself a drink of absinthe and lights a smoke.  To pass the time he leafs through some mags, but loses interest when he sees Commander Portsmith on three different covers ...* 

Mr. Black *slides in booth, across from Abberline*  Very punctual, you are, Inspector.  I like that.  *holds hand up for waiter*  Water ... and dry toast.

Mr. Brown *says nothing, sits down next to Abberline, nods at him ... looks longingly at his absinthe* 

Mr. Black *sees Mr. Brown's expression, rolls his eyes*  Fine, go ahead, one drink.  You're useless if you're sulking.  *turns to Abberline*  I don't like to waste a lot of time, Inspector, so I'll get right to it.  We would like to know about any and all information you may have imparted to Commander Portsmith regarding the Inner Circle of The Order.  She claimed to have connections.  Now, we don't really believe her, because you know as well as anyone that she's full of hot air most of the time ...  

Mr. Brown:  If not all the time ... *reaches past Abberline for bowl of peanuts*

Mr. Black *glowers at him, continues*  ... but the fact that she even knew the name Inner Circle intrigued us.  She also mentioned your name frequently, referring to some private investigations she had you working on at one time that she insisted we would find beneficial to our organization.  Now, there's no reason for us to be cagey about why we're here.  You know good and well we're here primarily to collect two missing persons, as it were ... two runaways who belong to us, who must return and face up to their duty.  It is their destiny and it's long overdue.  But it is also our job to protect our group from outsiders, those who wouldn't understand what we do.  So among other things, Inspector, we need answers from you ... just what do you know of the Inner Circle?

Abberline *suspiciously*  SO this is not just about 'missing persons'.  I understand perfectly what you do, you are just killers, nothing more.  And you are wasting your time, gentlemen.  You won't get any help from me.  I have done no private investigation for Commander Portsmith regarding your Order.  *looks in amusement how Mr. Brown nearly chokes tasting the absinth*  And even if I had, I would not share it with you.  I find it very odd that you have to come to me for that information, instead of just asking from someone belonging to your precious Inner Circle.  *smirks*  You don't know, isn't that so, you don't know whom to ask?  If you want some answers, you got to pay for it.  You could tell me the names of those men who were responsible for my family.  *orders another absinth*  As for the Commander, you make a mistake underestimating her. 

Mr. Black *looks at him steadily, then laughs*  My dear Abberline, we haven’t come to you for information about the Inner Circle.  We wanted to know YOUR level of knowledge of it.  As far as the Inner Circle goes, I’m perfectly happy to put my cards on the table.  *waves a hand at Mr. Brown, sees, he’s still gagging on the absinthe; sighs, shakes head, looks back at Abberline*  My colleague and I are aspiring to become members of the IC, as we call it.  We have a great deal of knowledge about it, though we both have a long way to go.  *watches Mr. Brown gulp down some water, then a handful of peanuts*  One of us has perhaps a bit farther than the other.  But that’s neither here nor there.  If you say you did no investigation of the Order for Portsmith, I believe you.  I felt pretty certain Portsmith was lying on that count.  So, that’s all we need to know … about that.  However, there is something else … *pauses, takes bite of toast, glances out window.  Then looks around room, to make sure there are still no patrons near their booth; leans in, speaks more quietly*  We have been doing a little investigating of our own, Inspector … about a certain item we sold to Portsmith, for which she still owes us payment … the soul box.  Our agreement with her was that part of the payment for the box would be the two runaways.  She then started some further negotiations, insisting that we bring her into the organization, and so on … and she has yet to complete her end of the transaction.  We backed off after awhile, finding her tiresome to deal with … and we also had read in your local rag, what is it called … *snaps fingers*

Mr. Brown *drinking absinthe carefully this time, wipes mouth with sleeve*  Deppville Tattler …

Mr. Black:  Yes, that’s it … we read in the Tattler that she was assisting the Shadows.  So we decided it was time we did a little investigating on our own.  What we’ve learned is that Portsmith doesn’t even have the box, that its whereabouts are unknown … and, coincidentally enough, one of our runaways is very closely tied in with the box and its power.  Sooooo, we’re starting to reconsider our options and priorities, you might say.  We feel that harnessing the power of the box would give us an edge toward our eventual goal to become accepted in the IC.  Since Commander Portsmith has failed to complete the transaction, the box is not hers.  We are more than willing to take it ourselves, along with our runaways.  This is where we believe you could be helpful.  We would like you to help us capture the two of them, and we’ll leave your lovely little town once and for all.  We happen to know you would like to never see or hear another thing about that box again … wouldn’t it be nice to have it far away, to know it’s out of your life forever?  Think about it, Inspector. 

Abberline *stares at Mr. Black in disbelief*  Deppville Tattler, indeed.  *laughs*  I see that you are well informed.  Help you?  Why on earth would I be helping the Order?  After what you did to me?  No way.  *lights a new cigarette despite Mr. Black's glance of reproof, then offers one to Mr. Brown, lights it for him*  Care to try?  I can't see any reason assisting you in any way.  I can't believe that you are really asking me to betray my friends, though I know it is a term that has no meaning to you.  If you believe that you can harness the powers of the box, you are greatly mistaken.  You are not up to that.  The box should be destroyed.  As the Order itself.  *falls silent for a while, thinks intently*  Why turn to me with such an outrageous proposition?  What would there be for me?  Will you give me the names?  

Mr. Black *nods slowly, breaking off another piece of toast, replies in a voice that’s almost weary, as if explaining something to a child for the umpteenth time*  Yes, Inspector, we will give you the names.  As a matter of fact, we can do more than that.  We can give you the men themselves.  *glances up, sees from Abberline’s face that he’s made an impression, smiles slightly*  I thought you might find that interesting.  Just imagine … those men responsible for the death of your beautiful wife and child, they’re still alive and well, and they’ve not given a second thought to anyone bearing the name Abberline all these years.  *leans forward*  You help us with this, and I can promise you a nice, long stretch of time in which you can confront these men, and you can do anything to them you wish.  They’ll be suitably … subdued, am I right, Mr. Brown?  *Mr. Brown nods; Mr. Black smirks*  Yes, Mr. Brown knows his work.  They’ll be restrained, the location will be completely isolated, no one will ever know what takes place between you and them.  It’s entirely up to you.  You see, Mr. Abberline … we have our reasons for wanting those men out of the way.  I won’t bore you with those details.  Just suffice to say, if it’s revenge you’ve dreamed of these many years … alongside the nightmares of your wife lying dead on the floor that even the strongest drugs cannot block out … then your time has come.  If you cooperate with us.  And think about the tradeoff, Inspector … what would you be losing, really?  The two runaways are riff-raff, always have been, always will be.  Especially the girl – trouble follows her everywhere, no doubt it’s visited you by your mere association with her.  If I understand correctly, she’s been a major distraction between you and your son getting together, isn’t that so?  *takes a drink of water, glances around room again*  However … if, after all I've said, you're still wavering because your conscience still bothers you, I can assure you we can handle this in a manner so that no one ever need know you helped us capture them.  Then, for the short time they have left to them, they won't have any ill thoughts about you.  *pauses, looks out window again, then back to Abberline*  I believe that pretty much sums up all we had to say to you, Inspector.  We’ve given you a lot to think about, so consider everything carefully, take your time.  We’re very patient, we’ve waited this long, a little longer won’t kill us.  *sits back, smiles congenially*  But we would appreciate an answer at your earliest convenience.  We'll be waiting, and we always know where to find you.  *waves a hand*  If you have no questions for us, you’re free to go.

Abberline *looking intently at his absinthe, doesn't answer for a long while*  Yes, it is revenge I am after.  If you really give them to me, I will consider the deal.  During all these years, I have tried to track them down …  Maybe that is what's needed to liberate her.  *The mentioning of Raven makes him thoughtful*  I don't think she's been a distraction, it could be quite the opposite, yes, indeed ...  *looks up at Mr. Black*  When do you want my answer? 

Mr. Black *shrugs*  As soon as possible.  Why don’t you sleep on it, at least?  We could give you two days, that should be plenty of time.  And now, Inspector, we’ll bid you good day.  Mr. Brown and I have some things to discuss, so if you don’t mind.  *Abberline starts to stand up; Mr. Black swiftly brings his hand down on Abberline’s wrist, grasping it tightly, pinning his arm to the table.  Abberline winces from the pain*  Just remember, Inspector Frederick Abberline, this decision is final.  So be quite certain of your answer, whatever it is.  There will be no renegotiations, no change of heart, savvy?  We’ve been through enough of that nonsense with Commander Portsmith.  She has worn our patience quite thin, so do not cross us.  Our mood is less than charitable at this time.  I hope I make myself clear.  You have two days.

*Abberline looks at him, then at Mr. Brown, who grins at him, but the grin is more sinister than affable.  He nods slightly at them both, says nothing.  Mr. Black releases him, Mr. Brown stands up to allow him out of the booth.  Abberline looks at them both cautiously, slowly stands, walks to the door, still glancing back at them, leaves Chez Roux.*

Mr. Brown *nods head in direction of window*  He didn’t come alone …

Mr. Black *drinks water*  Of course he didn’t.  But at least they had the good sense to remain outside.  *smiles*  Did you see how they tried to hide across the way?  Rather charming, really.  What on earth did they think we would do to Abberline here, in broad daylight, with witnesses?  This town is full of idiots and amateurs, Mr. Brown, and the sooner we’re through with it, the happier I’ll be.  Now then, about the men who killed the Inspector’s wife …

Mr. Brown:  Resting comfortably, no worries.  They spend their waking hours wondering what’s going on, but … well, they don’t have many of those.  Waking hours, I mean.  *hungrily eyes a waiter carrying a tray of food, gives Mr. Black a pleading look*  Mr. Black, as you know, I am constantly striving to live by the Order’s Spartan creeds.  However, I find I’m quite peckish at the moment.  Can we please have something to eat?

Mr. Black *gazing absently at a ring on his finger, nods*  Certainly, Mr. Brown.  I’m feeling particularly expansive today, and you’ve done some excellent work as of late.  The Order believes in rewarding those who have performed valuable service on its behalf.  So have anything you like on the menu … we’ll call it a business expense.

Mr. Brown:  I’m obliged, sir.  *they browse the menus, waiter comes over*  I think I’ll have the seafood risotto, salad, garlic bread, and a glass of red.

Mr. Black *reads for a moment, closes menu, looks at waiter*  Pot of tea, please, with an extra teabag ... and more toast.  No, wait … make that cinnamon raisin toast, with butter.  *hands menu to waiter, frowns as Mr. Brown stares at him, shocked*  We all have to let our hair down occasionally, Mr. Brown. 

On The Lancet:

Malachi *in cell, smoking cigarette, looks up as he hears footsteps approaching, sees Raven come down stairs.  Jumps up, grasps bars; looks first at Noble, who’s snoring in the corner, then looks at Raven.  Whispers loudly through bars*  Psst, Raven!  C’mere, kid. 

Raven *doesn’t respond, picks up tray near door, gathers flung magazines*

Malachi:  Okay, okay … White.  You there, White.  Can I have a word? 

Raven *looks up at him, shrugs, comes over to stand in front of him* 

Malachi *stares at him*  Y – you don’t remember me, kid?  You don’t know who I am? 

Raven *shakes head*  Never seen you before, mister.  *reaches in pocket*  Here, I brought more magazines … the latest Tattler, an’ the new Monuments Illustrated.  *flips open MI*  See, it’s got a whole article on the Equestrian Statue for Commander Portsmith of Chateau Blanchefort … Looks like someone got ahold of her speech for the dedication ceremony, they printed the whole thing right here.  *grins*  Quite a scoop, ain’t it?  The dedication is a few days away, I think is what it says.  She’ll prob’ly be mad, I hear she has quite a temper …

Malachi *scowls, smacks magazine out of the way*  Hang all that.  *pauses, crouches down so he’s at eye level, looks at him anxiously*  Kid, take a good, long look at me … are you sure you don’t remember me?  Malachi?

Raven *shrugs*  How could I remember you if I’ve never met you?  *glances back at stairwell*  I gotta go … *picks up tray, turns to leave* 

Malachi *stands up, calls after him*  What about your parents?  Kat an’ Inspector Abberline? 

Raven *calls back*  I never knew my parents …

Malachi:  What about Manouche? 

Raven *hesitates at the first step, squares his shoulders; starts to turn around, then hears a voice calling his name from the upper deck.  Runs up the stairs without another word* 

Malachi *considers calling out after him again, then hears Noble stop snoring; turns to look at him, relieved to see he’s simply changed position and soon is back to snoring away happily.  Malachi sighs, looks at the stairwell again*

At Chez Roux:

Abberline *stops in the lobby, gathering his thoughts.  The meeting had turned out to be something he was not prepared for; he was sure that they would only be interested in finding out how much he knows, just like Portsmith before, and he could even understand their sudden interest in the hidden soul box, but to assist the Order, the hateful Order to capture Manouche and Malachi, who have helped him, who have become his friends, who trust him, is an entirely different matter ... When he steps out of the door to meet the others, he has already reached the only possible decision.*

Godley, Manouche and Blake *approach Abberline as he emerges from Chez Roux*

Manouche:  How’d it go, mate?  *looks past him, at the restaurant*  They’re still in there, ay?  What’d they want from ye, are y’ in danger?

Abberline *rubbing his wrist*  They want information.  Commander Portsmith has been bragging to them about a contact in the Inner Circle, and they were very anxious to know where she got her information from.  They suspect it is from me, and wanted to find out how much I know and whether I left out something from the files they stole from me.  And they have also developed an interest to that damned soul box ... I don't know where it is, and I don't have any extra information on the Order, so I believe I am out of danger.  And …  *looks at Manouche for the first time* ... I think that was all.

Manouche *looks at him carefully*  That’s all?  Seems too easy …  *glances back at restaurant, shakes head*  I s’pose it’s possible.  But … why would they be so insistent on meetin’ with ye if that were all there is to it?  I mean, assaultin’ Mr. Blake, threatenin’ Sergeant Godley …  

Blake *shrugs*  They’re bullies.  That’s what bullies do.  Let’s just be glad if that’s really all there was to it.  I think we’d be wise to put some distance between ourselves and them. 

Manouche:  I reckon yer right.  No doubt they're still as keen on takin’ Malachi an’ me as they ever was.  *looks at Blake*  C’mon, love, let’s go home.  *to Abberline*  Inspector, yer lookin’ much better.  We’ll come back tomorrow an’ collect that box fer Willy an’ Madame.  Might be somethin’ in it they would like.  *hugs him, murmurs*  Take care, mate.  *to Godley*  Cheers, Sergeant, that were a fine brunch.  *She and Blake pat him on the shoulder, turn toward home* 

Godley *astonished*  That was really all?

Abberline:  Yes.  Maintaining their secrecy is very important to them, and they seemed upset enough for the Commander even knowing about the existence of something called the Inner Circle.  That's how their mind works ...  I doubt that even those who are in the Order know much about the Inner Circle.  *shrugs*

Godley:  But are they still pressing the Commander about that deal?

Abberline:  They said they don't trust her.  As for the deal or transaction, I can't say.  Probably they don't give up easily, but they did not mention it to me ... They know that Manouche and Malachi are friends, so they probably didn't want to share any information with me on their plans.  *crushes cigarette butt with his shoe*  Let's go home, Godley, there's nothing more here to do.

Godley *hesitating*  Maybe I should go to the Office ...

Abberline:  You can do that.

Godley:  Can I?  You won't do anything stupid?

Abberline:  I promise.  I just want to go home and think about this ...

At Manouche and Blake’s house:

Manouche and Blake *enter house, Blake heads toward kitchen, Manouche stops to greet Wilko and feed him.  Goes on through to kitchen, sees that Blake is out on patio, two glasses on table beside him; she walks out, takes the opposite chair*

Manouche *picks up one of the glasses, smiles*  Mimosas!  Readin’ me mind again, love.

Blake:  They would’ve been perfect with Godley’s brunch.  I figure better late than never.  *taps his glass against hers, drinks*  So … what did you really think back there?

Manouche *sighs*  Th’ Inspector ain’t tellin’ us everything.  Ye’d think he’d know by now that I can tell.  But I decided not t’ call ‘im on it.  I could tell he wants some time to sort it all out … whatever it is they told ‘im.

Blake:  So what do you want to do, do you want to ask him later?  Let it go until he brings it up?

Manouche:  I think I’ll leave it to him.  I admit, I’m dashed curious, but … if it had t’ do with me, he’d tell me.  I reckon their business with ‘im is somethin’ separate from their interest in Malachi an’ me.  I … I hope it ain’t somethin’ concernin’ Raven.  *drinks, gazes out at river*  I s’pose me next move should be to talk to Malachi, as I’d planned.  We ‘ave to do somethin’ about those men, we can’t hide from ‘em forever.

Blake:  I guess you’re right.  I doubt if they’ll just go away.  *drinks, sets glass down, reaches over, takes her hand*  Be careful, honey … and let me help, if I can.

Manouche *smiles*  I’ll be careful.  I admit, when I ‘eard what they’d done t’ ye, I were ready to ‘ave at ‘em, guns blazin’.  But Malachi made me see th’ value in lettin’ a cooler head prevail, as it were.  *squeezes his hand*  I ‘ave no idea how to approach this, I confess.  I reckon we can put our heads together with Malachi, come up with somethin’.  *pauses, looks at him*  How’re ye feelin’, love?

Blake:  A lot better than yesterday.  Shouldn’t take long to heal.  Do you want to try to see Malachi today?

Manouche *shakes head*  Per’aps I should … but … I’m tired, Mr. Blake.  D’ye s’pose we could take what’s left of th’ daylight an’ ‘ave a drift on our river?  Refresh our drinks, do a bit o’ raftin’, come back fer light supper … early to bed …

Blake *raises eyebrows*  Early to rise?

Manouche *grins*  Not necessarily.

Blake *laughs*  We have an accord.  *they stand up*  You make more drinks, I’ll get the boat ready.  *kisses her, walks down toward the river*

Manouche *watches him go, turns, enters kitchen.  Finds a container they can take on the boat, makes mimosas for two more glasses, pours mix into container.  Feels a wave of dizziness, grips kitchen counter*  Blast, what is it about this bloody kitchen?!  *sinks down to floor as blurry vision fills her head … the brigs of two ships, neither of which she recognizes … gets an impression of Dimitri from one, and someone else in the other, she can’t make out who it is … her heart beats faster as she sees a white feather … she then hears what she guesses to be an elderly woman’s voice, tries to concentrate, realizes with amazement it’s Raven’s grandmother*

Ama:  The baby is doing well … where is my daughter?

Manouche *whispers*  I … I don’t know, luv … she were with Ichy last I saw ‘er …

Ama:  Raven has withdrawn, but you can still reach him if you try.  His father … his father … He has a lot to sort out, and he carries a great burden.  At the same time, he must be held accountable for his actions.

Manouche:  Th’ Inspector?  Blimey, what’s ‘e done?  *vision fades to dark, save for a fleeting glimpse of Kat’s tattoo*

Ama:  Do what you can for them, but don’t do what you cannot do.  Beware the darkness.

Manouche *shakes head, confused; before she can respond to this, she hears Alifi’s voice, very faint:*

Alifi:  Je toujours vous aimerai, le petit oiseau.  *vision softly clears away, and Manouche finds herself on the floor of the kitchen*

Manouche:  B-blimey …  *pulls herself up slowly, looking around.  Leans against sink till she feels recovered, then starts to step away.  Something catches her eye, and she gasps as she sees a small white feather on the countertop.  As she picks it up, she feels the key around her neck warm slightly, then cool off.  She slips the feather into a pocket, picks up container of mimosas, glances around kitchen worriedly, then walks outside, heads down to river to join Blake*