Nimrod Pinon

"What do you mean he has still not been found?!" Pinon shouted angrily. Tall figure spun wildly upon his heel and long strides took him to furthest confines of red coated Major's front parlor. Conner stood just as angrily, his patience straining to remain in check. "It is not that we have not tried," he interjected, knowing anything he said would find no acceptance with the other man. "Try harder then!" Pinon yelled, then paused, reining back his fury. Slow, calculated steps took him face to face, within inches of the young major. Ice blue eyes narrowed as head tilted slightly on an angle. "You and your men are wasting valuable time thinking that you can flush this man out without raising the alarm. Do you not know there are many here that would strive to conceal this outlaw?" Conner slowly exhaled a deep breath. He knew all too well one such individual. Dark eyes lowered allowing lids to hide knowing glint. "What would you have me do? I and my men are at your master's and your disposal," he whispered, trying his best to sound defeated. "Send out all that you can. Leave no soldier back at the barracks. Kick in every door if you must, but find this captain and drag him back to Marshallsea. And if you did not know, start with the doors which the Devareaux clan hide behind. He is, as of late, married into their unsavory coterie. Surely it would be the first place he would run!!"

"Imbeciles!" Pinon stormed. Icy glare flew from the true guard that lay bound at his feet to the officer that had unlocked Sterling's cell. "He could be miles from here by now! You have wasted precious time!!" The tall figure glanced once more at the cell's current captive, before he pushed past the others around him. Fingers seized the throat of the officer. "Not another second must be lost! Find him! Start with his relations! If he goes any where for help it will be to them. I want solders at every Devareaux hiding place!! Search him out and bring him back or so help me even Modyford won't be able to save your sorry hide!!"

Already in route to Marshallsea prison, Pinon hastened his steps as people about him began to stream toward the same destination. Dark hair prickled upon the back of his neck as a sick feeling laid siege to his gut. Something was not right. The tall figure broke into a run, colliding with more than one ridiculous person, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. With senses reeling, he never saw the wounded guard step past him, nor could he spare a second to tell the old hag to mind her place, which, to him, twas her own fault for blocking his path. By the time he entered the main gate, soldiers were already retreating back to the yard. Confusion abounded. No one could tell what had happened or why one of their own had been hurt. None could find the injured party and worse, no one could explain what he had meant by “Trouble.” Upon all inspection, Marshallsea prison life was no different from any other day. “WHAT are you telling me?!” Pinon exploded as black, gloved hand slammed palm down upon the table. The officer of the watch flinched in his seat as the sound seemed to rebound about the guard room. “Exactly that Mr. Pinon. Absolutely nothing is amiss,” came a wooden reply. Ice blue eyes hardened as they set upon the officer. “Take me to him! I wish to see Captain Sterling for myself! Now!” “But of course. You have never been denied access to the man. You know that well enough. But I assure you, sir, nothing is wrong.”

Pinon followed close on other's heels. Cell door was hauled closed, interior falling into darkness. Lock was turned and key, safely pocketed until returned to officer on duty. Dark figured pressed onward, finally moving past slower barrister. Papers from Danish ships were poor fakes at best. Lilith would have to be released so actual documents could be found. They would be needed if Sterling actually managed to walk away a free man from his murder trial.

Pinon straightened, voice falling to a cold whisper. “Do not try my patience Mr. Manchester, with your precious credentials. If you wish to keep your place in this trial, you will adhere to my dictates. Remember if the Crown has brought you here, it can easily replace you with another. Now I will repeat my offer to allow you to leave like a gentleman should, or would you rather I call the guard and have you dragged out as you had Mistress McKinney treated thus, not so long ago?”

Ice blue eyes smiled malevolently as Pinon regained his standing. “An impassioned act of self defense is erroneous in your eyes Mr. Manchester? Fortunately it is not so regarding the law.” Sigh of boredom escaped the taller man. He bowed slightly, arm waving toward cell door. “After you then.”

Pinon dodged without difficulty, side stepping his assailant and with action far swifter than one would imagine, he snatched gold headed cane from barrister’s hold. Ice blue eyes blazed coldly, walking stick converting to weapon, as Pinon brought its end down callously against the sea captain’s crown. Sterling fell hard but Pinon was not content and raised staff once again. Second strike was delivered and then dark figure knelt down besides prisoner and rained down several more blows until Manchester found himself and was able to interfere.

“As if I would walk about with such important papers in my possession! All evidence is safely locked away and his Lordship, Sir Michael Harrington, one of the judges who is to preside over the proceedings, is the holder of said key,” Pinon related. “As in any ordinary case, you will see all at the court when you go to plead.” He shook his head incredulously. “Surely you well know this. No one would dream of withholding such from your perusal. As to the other case, there is a witness to your killing of the overseer. Him you shall meet at trial as well. He wishes until then to remain anonymous. As one can most certainly understand his apprehension where your in-laws are concerned. Cutpurses and smugglers.” Pinon turned to look at Manchester. “Do you truly believe you can rely on this man’s social standing to help him? Are you not aware that his very own father has long ago, washed his hands of him? He was disinherited for marrying a whore, his father has not spoken to him since. Do you really think he will lift a finger to help him now that he is married to another one?”

Pinon stood his ground, blocking the exit. Manchester would have to make his way around. “Most interesting. Not one question asked,” lean shoulders’ shrugged. “I have a question.” Blue eyes widened in actual surprise as they fixed once again on Sterling. “The charges … of piracy… who has brought them against me if not the Crown?” the captain asked. “What evidence is there? I wish to see it, now.”

"Bat about, Mr. Manchester?" Pinon mocked surprise, one gloved hand pressing over his heart. "Me Sir? Twas not I that asked to come here to speak with the prisoner, but you sir or have you forgotten?" Ice blue eyes steeled briefly. "As you say you are well aware of the instructions regarding this man, you are not to speak with him unless I am present, have you only then come to look upon him? Surely you have seen your share of murders and pirates before? Why then, sir, have you come?" Until now, third party had remained aloof, as if being spoken about and yet not present. Sterling turned about, blond head lifting slightly. "I am no pirate," he whispered.

"Ah yes," Pinon remarked as if to himself. “There are those that work for the Crown and those to whom that very same Crown acquiesces.” The dark man smiled at the thought. “I find it interesting that you have requested to see this man,” haughty gaze directed itself to Sterling. “Surely he has not yet pleaded before the court, and yet has questions regarding his defense already? Why would you waste his time regarding a trial he cannot when?”

“I would hope it was made perfectly clear upon your arrival that no one, absolutely no one was to see this man without my being present,” Nimrod Pinon said as he entered the cell. Black figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into faint light. Unlike others, he was forced to duck slightly to breach door’s opening. “Why is it that no one, including such as yourself Mr. Manchester, seems not to understand this?”

feet

Meal was enjoyed and Pinon decided first time gracing McDonough's was well worth his time. As sky began to smudge away the darkness, Pinon took his leave and decided a few hours sleep would do him well. Last of the ale was downed, bill paid, yet no second look was bothered with the Devareaux that still lingered with lovely lass. He left, passing Devareaux's table, knowing well the other's interest.

**

Pinon entered McDonough’s and a took seat closest to front door. Meal was ordered with down payment of gold coin to hasten its production and delivery. Ale was quickly polished off and second tankard was ordered, then contents of purse were considered. He had well paid off the Keeper of Marshallsea not only with cash but with warnings that the man’s very life was as good as forfeit if anyone was able to communicate with the prison’s latest addition. Guards would be next after visit to a certain someone come sun up… with the mere mention of the right name, Pinon, himself would hand pick those that would be responsible for keeping Sterling under lock and key. He sat back in his chair as steaming plate was placed before him. All these tasks to accomplish were purely just for guarantees and not truly needed once evidence was placed before the court. Pinon laughed to himself. After all the justice system of the Crown, rarely smiled down upon the poor sod who stood in the dock. Pinon looked up as Devareaux entered McDonough’s and pulse increased in pace. Greedy nature tried to overstep its bounds, to take Sterling’s brother-in-law as well would make the game more interesting, but, he was nothing. And Pinon did not waste his time on nothing.

Pinon finally left the prison. The skies had not yet broken down into shades of gray and for a few hours more he would easily blend in with the darkness that enveloped him. With Sterling tucked away some place even Pinon could appreciate, the tall, dark man had finally felt some comfort in being able to turn his back on the prison of Marshallsea. A drink and a meal was what he needed most now. With the coming dawn some establishments would already have staff hard at work preparing for the coming throng of people heading off to start another day of their all too tedious lives. There was one place in the port he had not yet had the opportunity to try. He made his way to McDonough’s, his appetite urging him to make haste. Once it was appeased, he would see that the trial was pushed forward as best he could. Little did Pinon realize that with the destruction of the Marshallsea guardhouse certain papers had ceased to exist, and as far as everyone was concerned, if they no longer existed neither did the prisoners they corresponded to.

"What the bloody hell?!?" Pinon choked back as he rounded the corner. His dark gloved hand shot out to halt the young child baring the lanter before him. Hand now covering the youth's mouth as he was shoved hard up against the far wall of Marshallsea. The child was silently signaled to remain where he was as Pinon moved to take the lead and snake his way along the stones. Was Sterling's inlaws already on the move to free him from gaol after doing nothing to stop his arrest and, seemingly, nothing since? Ice blue eyes narrowed in the dark as they continued to study the figure at a distance, then widened, recognizing no member of Le Cour but the very man imprisoned next to Sterling himself. Impossible, Pinon thought to himself, then quickly realized it had to be a brother of the man inside. As spark hurried down match to powder keg, Pinon panicked. His prize was all too close on the other side of the keg that was about to blow. He turned with harsh whisper, "RUN!" he ordered the child. Then took to his own heels, hands to mouth shouting for all the world to hear the alarm that some fool was trying to blow up Marshallsea Prison.

“My Lord Darnley, It is with the greatest of pleasure that I write to inform you that one has been taken and been buried away for the time being. You had instructed, in your last letter, that he should be forgotten in his present realm, but sir, I beg you to let the trial continue onward.” Pen paused in mid-scratch as Pinon recalled Sterling’s behaviour as prison door was shut and locked, placing him alone in the dark, still bound hand and foot. Coat now gone and naught but foul straw to make his resting place. Already the man was stricken by his confinement and Pinon actually wondered if he would be able to stand trial without cracking first. Quill was replenished with fresh ink. “The man is not well, if left for too long, he may perish in Marshallsea, and I fear then that the lady would continue to languish after him even once he is long dead. Perhaps the trial may cause new light to shed upon his sad character and bring about a questioning regarding her misplaced feelings for him, for even his latest marriage has not seemed enough to alter her course. At least if they find him guilty and he is hanged, he cannot possibly become a martyr in her eyes. He remains devoid of council and coin and shall continue so until his downfall at the trial is accomplished. So rest easy M‘lord, your lady shall return to you presently.”

“No further bribes will be tolerated!“ Pinon ordered the Keeper. “If you do as you as you are told, you will be handsomely compensated later… If you wish his coat, take it and any other coin he might have on his person.” Pinon continued, reciting well memorized list, mentally ticking off each item in turn. “Sterling is to remain in irons and locked away in isolation. No one is to speak with him. No one is to see him. He will be found a lawyer but he is not to meet with him unless I am present…he is not to be given pen nor paper… he is not to be allowed the use of the yard nor taproom …he is not to be moved for any reason without my permission….And no one is to speak regarding him outside these walls…” As list of do’s and don’ts continued, small group pushed onward into the darkness of the prison’s interior and Sterling’s struggling quickly turned to panic.

Pinon looked back, halting in his tracks. "Do NOT stop until Sterling is locked away in Marshallsea! There is a special cell awaiting him there!" he ordered, then waving officer,soldiers and their prisoner onward, he back tracted slightly. As sailors poured forth from the Blood & Hanger, he watched as the girl in men's clothing, high tailed it through the building. He smiled. He rather liked this young woman. "That is it!" he mused to himself. "Call out the others to fight your battles. Lead them to the slaughter whilst you duck out the back!" He stepped a bit closer as the drunken rabble slid to a stop before the line of poised muskets aimed in their faces. Bleary eyes widened in shock as men quickly sobered, wondering what in blazes they had stumbled into. "Not them!!" Pinon shouted. Sans their officer, one corporal looked to the man in black. Pinon pointed to the Blood & Hanger. "Her! After the girl! The one dressed as a man! She's run through the tavern. Twenty pounds to the man who catches her!" Corporal ordered his men back to the hunt. The men from the Blood & Hanger quickly followed suit.

Nimrod Pinon moved to a distance as Sterling exploded. He knew no amount of pent up frustration would allow the sea captain the advantage against the men guarding him. But men, in such dire circumstances, never realized the futility of their actions and, usually, put up one hell of a fight. Pinon knew he would enjoy witnessing such a spectacle. He had heard many a story of the scraps the crew of the Archangel had been in. Yes, Sterling might take a few down with him, but soon, leg irons would prevent any real chance of victory. Pinon actually smiled as the man behind Sterling fell hard, shackles careening against temple. A second man was accosted and quickly put to ground, presenting the opening for flight. But as Pinon watched, Sterling turned and hesitated. Pinon straightened himself from where he had been leaning against a wall for comfort of viewing. The path was clear, save for the young lovers and some strange looking youth who had joined them. Pinon watched as Sterling balked then suddenly turned and veered off in the opposite direction. A direction that was far too congested with absolutely nothing to gain except the butt end of a musket and the grasping hands of several members of the guard. To Pinon the fight now made no sense. Sterling was easily caught and wrestled to the ground, one gaited foot pressing blond head firmly in place against cobblestones. "So, what's the bother here, gents. Can't keep a man in irons under control between the lot of ya? Is this the King's finest? If it is, 'tis a mortifing pity, to be sure." Attention was now drawn toward youth who approached. Pinon’s gaze took him in… a woman! Quickly attention was turned toward the couple as well. And recognition dawned. Pinon moved swiftly to young officer’s side. Voice lowered, he instructed that trio was to be taken. “I know them now,” Pinon said. “The woman is Sterling’s wife. The man her brother. They are here to save him. See that they don’t!”

Pinon had remained outside with the young officer of the guard. The redcoats had been punctual, Pinon had to admit, but now he stood, foot tapping impatiently waiting for them to act. All they had to do was search the upper level and find one man, Pinon fumed inwardly. What on earth was taking them so…. He moved aside as a group of rowdy Scottish sailors approached the Royal Grace and forced their way in. Ice blue eyes rolled angrily with the further interuptions and then… the Royal Grace erupted! “My word!” the young officer exclaimed. His hand lowered to the hilt of his small sword, but Pinon, restrained him and kept him from entering the inn and the brawl that had rapidly commenced with the arrival of the Scots. “But my men…” “Are supposed to be here following my orders,” Pinon quickly reminded the young man. “My employer and your better, will not be pleased they were so easily … distracted.” Two men suddenly fell through the front door and landed with a thud by Pinon’s feet. The tall man backed away, as the two combatants continued, rolling about the cobblestones. Pinon glared at the officer. “One man! Just ONE MAN!” Pinon shouted in disgust. Startled, the young officer quickly drew his sword and passed it through the body of the man tussling with one of his own. Withdrawing his blade he ordered the soldier to his feet. “Is there another way in?” he asked. All three ducked as a chair came crashing outward through the front window. Pinon slapped his hand to his forehead, he should have NEVER counted on the help of these bloody bunglers. He turned to storm away and as he did, saw a figure make a dash from the rear of the Royal Grace. He watched as the man forced himself to a walk, head lowered, obviously trying to make his escape. Pinon pivoted back toward the officer. “I believe that is the man we are after. IF you hurry, you just may be able to salvage the mess your men have made of this night!”

The time was right…finally. Only the most subtle of doubts had lead Pinon to believe that John Sterling was still actually amongst the living. His crew had carried out their little charade perfectly... that is until the ship’s very own doctor had so foolishly hailed Sterling in the open, even blocking the captain’s path as he tried to disembark. Pinon had watched from a distance, all the while wondering what would prompt a man such as Sterling to acknowlege, so carelessly, the man who had just given him away as he left his ship a second time and so soon in one day. Surely the captain must have felt that his hand had been forced. There had been the appearance of urgency and yet Sterling's step had been hesitant at best. Still, it was all to Pinon’s advantage and the game Sterling had been playing was now at an end, his time was up. Fully confident, Pinon followed almost leisurely, as Sterling, first mate and crew made their way back through the port town. With the sun down it was easy to keep his eye on his prey, although he continued to question as to where they were going and why. Pinon could not get close enough to hear the conversation that had passed at Le Cour’s Bookstore. Such a task would have been risky at best where that den of thieves was concerned. So he waited until a frustrated captain finally emerged from the back alley, split his meager forces and then hurried off to, … of all places… the local courtesan’s. Pinon, with an exacerbated sigh, folded his arms before his chest and slunk back against the wall of the far building. Sly grin caressed Pinon's thin lips. Surely having Sterling arrested and torn from the arms of his lover would only add to the scandal the trial would already cause. But the timing had been wrong and Sterling had emerged all too quickly heading back into the better section of the port. Once again the sea captain was joined by first officer and additional crew and then gained entrance to the Royal Grace. Sabastian Devareaux’s lair. Now Pinon sat and finished his tankard of warm beer and watched. Although able seamen had been ordered below to the common room, Sterling and March had remained all too long above. Pinon smiled to himself. Timing was indeed everything. He had waited and watched and his patience had paid off well. Something was afoot where the Devareauxs were concerned and it was causing all the time Pinon needed to summon the guard.

"Is that so, Mister Pinon?" The Constable said, leaning back in heavily carved chair. He eyed the man in black before him. He had arrived early in the morning before sunup to make a statement. A witness, Pinon had claimed he was, riding past Trade Winds to take in the scenery had instead, ridden upon the deadly scene played out between Overseer, slaves and outsiders. "Yes that is so. I was able, at a safe distance, to see a captain John Sterling put a ball in the now deceased gentleman." Pinon hung his head with a weary sigh. "The poor fellow was just doing his job. Such a pity." Constable leaned forward upon elbows against desk before him. "Then you shall be pleased to know that The Almighty has already intervened. Captain Sterling is dead." Pinon's head snapped upward, eyes wide, unable to mask the disappointment on his face. "Dead?" "Yes, died of an illness. He was brought back into the Port just last evening," the constable explained. Pinon finally sat, hard in the chair that had been offered him when he first arrived. Features fell into proper placement as he realized his prey had escaped him. Suddenly he looked up, eyes narrowed. "They will bury him then shortly?" Pinon asked. "No, as a matter of fact," the officer said, riffling through papers within reach. After a few seconds search, one docuement was withdrawn and then freed to float to edge of desk closest to where Pinon sat. "The first lieutenant of the Archangel has put in a formal request for permission to sail as soon as possible. They wish to return the body to his Lordship, Sir William Sterling, as quickly as they can. The captain is to be buried back in England." "He is, is he?" Pinon muttered. "Pardon?" the Constable said, leaning in closer. Pinon stood quickly to his feet and bowed. "I am sorry for having taken up your time," Pinon said. The Constable stood also. "Not at all. Tis good to know that one murderer has come to justice." Pinon glanced at the other man, eyes narrowing even further. "Yes, yes, of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall allow you to get back to searching for the other." He turned and rapidly made his way to the exit. He had a ship to watch.