Even as he said it, Ryan recognized the futility of trying to do any sort of deal with men like Wolfram and the Magus. You might as well ask a striking rattler to show mercy.
Wolfram laughed again. “Do I detect the first teensy sign of begging, Ryan? I think I do, yes, I think that I do. But it is not necessary.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “We will discuss this over luncheon. But be assured that if all goes as my partner and I wish it, then you and the Armorer will do us an enormous favor that will help us to a serious quantity of jack. And at the end of it, perhaps in a month or so, you will all go free. All of you.”
“Haven’t seen any pigs flying by lately,” J.B. said. “Hard to believe.”
“Yet true.”
Huston stood by the wheel, shuffling his feet. “It’s difficult and dangerous holding the Eagle here like this, in thick fog in the middle of the Sippi. You gentlemen don’t mind, I’d like to get her moving again upriver.”
“When will we reach the dropping-off point, Captain?” the Magus asked.
“This evening, just before full dark. If all goes well and this damned weather clears. The landing’s on the starboard side of the river, about five miles past the ruins of a burned-out mill. Good landmark.”
Wolfram sighed. “I had asked you to be discreet about the precise position of our destination, Captain Huston. Telling Ryan and John Dix where we are going is not very discreet. I fear that we might need to give you something of a spanking before leaving your excellent floating gin palace.”
Huston’s face went several degrees paler. “I thought thought that you said it it wouldn’t matter after you’d lifted the others and got them safe. Thought that’s what you said Sorry if Real sorry.”
The Magus clapped his hands. “Wasting time. Captain’s right, Gert. Less they want their friends tortured slowly to death, they’ll do like we say.”
“What is it you want?” Ryan asked.
Wolfram smiled at him. “Over some food, I think, my old comrade. Over some food.”
RYAN’S ADVICE to the others still held good. There was no way of knowing how and when they’d eat again. So he and the Armorer, despite their worry, anxiety and anger, tucked into the luncheon in the private room of the stern-wheeler.
Wolfram sat at the head of the table in an ornately inlaid mahogany carver that looked as if it had been built with someone of his bulk in mind. The Magus sat next to him, bolt upright, picking at his food, limiting himself to vegetables some creamed squash with fresh peas, and a dish of baked eggplant with a layer of cheese on the top.
Ryan faced Wolfram, and J.B. was across from the Magus. The saloon had a beautiful crystal chandelier that vibrated and tinkled in time with the movement of the boat. The fog was clearing slowly, and they were moving upstream again, a little faster than walking pace. There were lookouts in the bow and up on the wings of the bridge, as well as a pair of lead men working in unison. “Mark twain mark four and a half Soft mud.”
The first course for everyone but the Magus was wafer-thin layers of smoked salmon with lemon, and elegant slices of brown bread and butter, with the crusts cut off, followed by a bowl of thick, rich soup, made from lentils and shredded carrots. Then came the fish course delicious fillets of fresh trout, covered in bread crumbs and baked with sweet potatoes and lima beans, with a rich cream sauce that was flavored with coriander and nutmeg.
Wolfram would have taken the edge away from the voracious Jak in a dining contest, helping himself to two portions of the salmon, two of the soup and three of the fish.
The silent waiters next served a round of delicate fruit sorbets decorated with thin slices of fresh strawberries and melon and guava.
The meal was proceeding in almost total silence.
The only sound was Wolfram’s noisy eating, gulping and snuffling like a hog rooting for truffles. Outside, Ryan was aware that Huston was speeding up a little, which presumably meant that the fog was clearing more.