The leader, however, took the jibe in stride.
“A bit of a spitfire, isn’t she?” he laughed, jerking his head at her.
“You said you had some business with us?” Tambu prompted, an edge in his voice.
The man nodded, showing even more teeth. “We’ve heard that you’ve been asking around after weapons of an exceptionally powerful nature.”
“Where did you hear that?” Whitey asked sharply.
“Does it matter, as long as the information is accurate?”
“What makes you think it’s accurate?” Tambu countered.
“The fact that she didn’t deny it.” The man smiled.
“Assuming for the moment you’re correct, what business is it of yours?” Tambu asked. “Are you an arms dealer?”
The man threw back his head and laughed. “Me? Blackjack? An arms peddler? Not hardly.” His laughter broke off and his eyes became wary. “And now that you’ve gotten that information out of me, maybe you wouldn’t mind answering a direct question.”
“Such as?” Tambu asked.
“Such as, are you a pirate?” Blackjack replied, his eyes darting weasel-like back and forth between the seated pair.
“No, we’re not. If we were, we probably wouldn’t admit it openly.”
“Why not? I do. Blackjack’s the name, piracy’s the game. Been making a good living at it for over five years now. Now that I know you’re not in the business yourself, I have a proposition for you.”
“And what would that be?” Whitey asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“It’s a straightforward deal. You tip us as to where you’re going with your next shipment, we meet you, put a few picturesque but easily repaired holes in your hull, relieve you of your cargo, and we split the profits down the middle.”