Pirates of the Outrigger Rift Read Free Page A

the door behind him. The room was a massive library. Rich wooden shelves filled with books covered three walls, floor to ceiling. A roaring fireplace stood in the center of the rear wall. The mantle sported a miniature sailing ship from another century. A ladder on wheels stood ready in one corner. An ancient rolltop desk and several wingback chairs sat upon a huge rug in the center of the room. In one chair sat an elderly man, deeply engrossed in a book—an antique studying an antique. He wore a conservative business suit. On his right hand he wore a ruby ring worked in the shape of the Randol family crest, a bloody fist.
    As Chandler stepped forward, Randol peered at him over the book, then smiled. “Ah, Mr. Chandler.”
    “That’s me.” Chandler said, and took a seat without being asked. “This is quite a spread you have here, although I think you should have gone for the turquoise sky. It’s in fashion this season.”
    “My, my.” Randol closed his book. “You’re every bit as insolent as I’d heard.”
    “My reputation precedes me.”
    “Yes, it seems that you were once contacted by Lord Oke, and he was not satisfied with your job performance.”
    Chandler shrugged. “Okay, I’ll bite. So why did you call me after that kind of endorsement?”
    “Let me ask you a question first. What exactly was the task Lord Oke wanted you to perform?”
    Chandler stared coldly at the old man. “Sorry, that’s confidential. If that’s why you’ve asked me here, I’m afraid we’re wasting each other’s time. The last thing I need to do is get involved in a feud between lords.”
    Randol gave a dry laugh. “Relax, young man. That’s not why I brought you here. I already know about Lord Oke’s issues and indiscretions. I know that your task would have involved the destruction of a few innocent people’s reputations. What I’m interested in is your response when he tried to hire you.”
    Chandler leaned back in his seat. “To put it bluntly, I told him to shove it.”
    “Precisely.”
    “So what?”
    “The point is that Lord Oke offered you a large sum of money and it wasn’t enough for you to violate your principles. The fact that you even possess principles sets you apart from many of your colleagues.”
    “I can’t argue with that,” Chandler said, spying a decanter filled with amber liquid on the desk next to him. He nodded toward the bottle. “Is that for guests?”
    “It’s thirty-year-old brandy. Would you care for a taste?”
    “All right, but no more than a liter or so. I’m trying to cut down.”
    “Shall I summon Aland to pour?”
    Chandler shook his head and grinned. “I think I can manage.” He rose, jerked the stopper out of the decanter, and poured himself two fingers. “Want some?”
    “No, thank you.”
    Chandler shrugged and returned to his chair, taking a gulp of the brandy and wincing.
    “You were talking about principles,” Chandler said. “Mine, such as they are, aren’t for sale.”
    “A rare quality of which I have need. I distrust any man who can be bought, even if I’m doing the buying.”
    Chandler gulped down another swallow. “I don’t know. I’ve always thought that every man has his price. For some people it might be a chunk of money, for others it might be different, like getting to keep all their fingers and toes intact for another day, or getting to take a few more breaths of oxygen. Sooner or later everyone has a breaking point. Anyone will turn on you if the pressure is too high. I’ve always avoided trusting anyone with anything I couldn’t afford others to know.”
    “I don’t need a superman, Mr. Chandler, just an honest man, and I think you’re the closest I’ve got.”
    “Okay, we’ve established that I’m a saint among men. What’s the job?”
    “I need you to meet a courier, retrieve a package, and pay for it.”
    “A pickup? You have Jorgeson. Why do you need me?”
    Randol sighed. “It’s a matter of utmost confidentiality. There