Chapter Eighteen

                                    

                                          
Captain Worthington arrived at the docks early the next day, wearing finer clothes than yesterday. He'd taken care with his appearance, keeping his hair tied back under his hat and a clean-shaven face.  
                          
Kent greeted him as he ascended the gangplank, grey eyes surveying the ship he'd once commanded with a steel expression. 
                          
"She looks to be in seafaring shape," he remarked. 
                          
Kent figured that was as high a compliment as he was likely to get.  
                          
He beckoned him aboard the Executioner, inviting him into the captain's cabin to rest before they set off. 
                          
"How soon will we be underway?" Worthington asked. 
                          
He was careful of his words, Kent noted. Cautious to sound commanding but not in command or ordering about. 
                          
"Within the hour, if we can," Kent replied. "With your arrival I-" he broke off as the cabin door swung open, revealing an unexpected guest. 
                          
Dovev stood at the window, gazing at the Caribbean's crystal waters, a glass of Kent's private stock in his rough hands.  
                          
He glanced up as the Englishmen entered, raising the glass to his lips. "Captain Kent," he murmured. "Mr. Worthington." 
                          
Worthington suppressed a twitch, while Kent stepped forward. "Dovev, was it? I wasn't aware you'd be joining us. Seaver has already told me the location of this hideout you found." 
                          
Dovev finished the glass and set it down on the desk without a sound. "Seaver's orders. He thinks you may need my skillset on this mission." 
                          
Kent frowned. "Well, then, we'll be glad to have you in our ranks," he said, forcing pleasantness into his voice. 
                          
Worthington shot Kent a meaningful look, and he added, "Then, as captain of this vessel, I'll ask you to make yourself useful before we shove off. We'll be heading out soon." 
                          
The assassin nodded his head, gave Kent a smile that was a bit too sly, and left the cabin. 
                          
Worthington watched him go with narrowed eyes. "There is more I must tell you, Kent." 
                          
He listened at the door for a moment before turning around. "This certainly complicates things," Kent muttered. "We have the rest of the journey to talk without him lingering." 
                          
"Have you a plan of action?" Worthington asked, brows raised above skeptical eyes. 
                          
Flushing, Kent absently grabbed for the bottle Dovev had left on the desk. While he splashed some into a glass he mused, "Dovev can provide us with more information, but I'm assuming this place will be swarming with pirates. My plan was to send in a few of us in plain clothes and negotiate with Captain Dark and his friends without causing a ruckus." 
                          
"You think Dark won't shoot you first?" 
                          
Kent shrugged. "Last time we met on agreeable terms. I'm hoping he'll be inclined to hear us out. Seaver isn't exactly chummy with him." 
                          
Worthington tilted forward. "Speaking of, one of Seaver's contacts is a privateer you may know. I have heard he will be attending the governor's party." 
                          
Kent nodded. "Yes, the welcoming party. I myself have an invite through my brother." 
                          
Worthington nodded. "It may be worth investigating. As for the matter at hand, what do you hope Dark will tell you? Assuming he's willing to share." 
                          
Kent grumbled. "I know he has one of those charts, no matter what he claims." 
                          
"I imagine he's after the supposed treasure, same as Seaver," Worthington said dismissively.