Silence and Delacourt (closed)

"All aboard! All aboard!"

The lounge area and viewing deck at the pinnacle of the Empire State Building was decorated in the fashionable Pharaonic style. Mosaics of jackal-headed gods, done in gold and lapis lazuli, lined the walls. The doors leading out into the balcony, which parted noiselessly as one approached, were carved with the images of serene-faced pharoahs. Behind the bar, a solid black mass of obsidian, waiters in immaculate white jackets were serving cocktails with silent, courteous efficency.

As the call sounded out again, travellers on the Abraham Lincoln made their way to the balcony, extending all the way around the tip of the building. The gigantic rigid airship loomed above them. There were two ways to board. A long rope ladder dangled from the stern, for the use of crew and stewards. Down from the ladder, a sleek metal cage awaited passengers, who would be winched up into the belly of the airship in a far more comfortable manner.

Will was a passenger this time, but he had worked his way on ship and zeppelin more than once before. Not hesitating, he made his way to the ladder and began to climb. The rope ladder twisted in the never-failing winds like an angry snake, but he never slackened his pace or lost his balance.

He was a young man, perhaps twenty six years of age, with broad shoulders and leanly muscled arms and legs. His brown hair was smooth and close-cropped, his grey eyes held a smoulder and intensity to rival that of a Hollywood heartthrob. The danger and passion promised by those eyes was mellowed by a wry, humorous mouth, now twisted into a characteristic half-smile.

Will Silence! Saviour of the Elphinberg-Kaltenhart dynasty! Will Silence! Discoverer of the lost city of Hathor! Will Silence! Archfoe of the Nazi regime and perpetual thorn in the side of Herr Hitler! Will's smile took on a hint of ruefulness as he thought of the headlines he'd earned. He'd been a reporter himself, at one point in his crowded young life, but being a plaything of the press had never been a dearly-cherished ambition.

As the cage was winched up, it came opposite his position on the rope. A pair of young debutantes, no doubt making their first inter-Atlantic voyage, were among those inside. Their eyes widened at the sight of Will's hard body as the winds carried the rope ladder in a spiralling circuit. They nudged each other and giggled. Will met their gaze indifferently and they blushed simultaneously.

He sighed. The girls were attractive enough, in a primped and pampered way, but his thoughts were always drifting elsewhere, to a certain piquant, irresistibly charming face and slender form...

Will shook his head irritably and continued the climb.


An hour later, he was standing at the rear observation window, making his last goodbyes to New York once again. He had set off on countless journeys from this city, always returning sooner or later. Normally, he felt a rush of excitement, a giddy joy at the thought of what adventures might be waiting for him. But this time, something felt wrong. It was Marie-Claire, or rather the absence of Marie-Claire. She hadn't been there when he'd gone to say goodbye to her and the Rothsteins. Why should she be? No doubt she had a life of her own these days. All the same, it didn't feel right to start a new adventure without her warm goodbye hug, the feeling of her slender body and the clean, warm scent of her hair...

Will shrugged uncomfortably and studied the city instead. Its tallest skyscrapers were still visible above the clouds, gleaming needle-like constructs of glass and steel, with the slender tracks of cable cars running between them like fine cobweb. Manhattan, they said, where there was nowhere to go but up. New York's tireless scientists and engineers had piled level upon level, until it was said that there were people in the heights who touched the ground once a week at the most. But its pinnacles could never outshadow the lady with the torch who stood in the harbour, lifting the brand as though in challenge to the dark clouds that were gathering across the ocean. Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free...

Will wondered where, among those spires, Marie-Claire was at that moment.

General Information

((This backstory/description was too good to leave out of this thread, so I've added what you PM'd here ))

Will Silence

"Silence! Silence! That Jew-loving American dog has once again foiled my plans!"
--Doktor Hans Grubenborg

Will Silence is in the prime of his strength and at peak physical condition at the age of 26, which is just as well given the company he keeps and the many strange adventures that he seems to land himself into. A respected member of the Explorer's Club in New York and a man of many different jobs -sailor, reporter, explorer, scholar, spy and gunman. He stands 6'0'' and is of a lean, muscular build, favouring grey trenchcoats and fedoras for personal wear. His hair is brown and smooth, his face often wears a wry smile, which his enemies interpret it as mocking and his friends as comradely.

He first ran away from his home in Maine when he was just fourteen years old, signing on with a tramp steamer in New York. Since then he has seen the greater portion of the globe and, due to his steadfast refusal to stand by and allow any strong man to exploit the weak, gained both friends and enemies in every port. Even as a young boy he was taking on bullies twice his size, and this hasn't changed when the bullies he encountered starting becoming entire regimes. He has gained the thanks of the United States and allied governments on several occasion, although due to the highly delicate nature of the tasks he has undertaken for them, these acknowledgements have rarely been public. It is known that he will always recieve a warm welcome in the royal court of Verdonia, due to certain signal services he performed for the state's beautiful young duchess.

It is even rumoured that the duchess proposed marriage, but Silence must have delicately and tactfully turned her down. The fact is that he seems to prefer to live a solitary life, perhaps feeling that it would be unfair to inflict his life of danger and adventure on any women, but also never feeling prepared to give it up.


Marie-Claire Delacourt


Will Silence first met Marie-Claire on the Adventure of the Joanine Diamond. She was a street-urchin living in the back-alleys of Paris, living by her wits (they met when she tried to pick the young Silence's pocket). It soon became clear that she knew the city's underworld extremely well, and was able to guide Silence to the Van Nott jewel-thief gang's secret hide-out. Feeling compassion for the ragged, plucky girl Silence brought her back with him to New York and left her in the care of his friends the Rothsteins.

Now it is six years later and the Parisian street-urchin of fourteen has transformed into a ravishingly lovely young woman of twenty. She is still as much of a tomboy as ever, insisting on dressing in men's clothes and cutting her dark hair close. Her pale face is waifishly beautiful, soft red lips aching to be kissed and blue eyes sparkling with passion, and the close-fitting blue military cast-offs and overcoats she favours do nothing to conceal the generous curves of her creamy, smoothly rounded breasts, standing out all the more on her slender body, nor the pert swell of her buttocks under the breeches. Although her English is perfect thanks to the education the Rothsteins provided, her voice is still tinted with the French accent.

Marie-Claire is in love with Will Silence. It started out as hero-worship, turned into a schoolgirl crush and she now feels she is old enough to call it what it is: love. Every couple of weeks bring new tidings of Will's latest adventure and whenever he's in New York, he always comes by to see her and the Rothsteins. Unfortunately, he still treats her as he always has: as a mischievous little sister, not as a beautiful woman, and has laughed off any suggestion that she accompany him on one of his journeys. Marie-Claire has grimly considered the swarm of sophisticated girl-reporters, fragile female royalty and man-hungry vamps that always seem to feature in Silence's adventures. It can't be too long before one of those other women captures him for good. And they'd never understand him or be able to join in his adventures the way Marie-Claire would. She has practised with the pistol until she's become a crackshot and she's still as swift and lithe as she was in her days as a thief in Paris.

So, this time when Will left New York, Marie-Claire secretly followed him. She stowed away aboard the zeppelin he took from the docking bay on the Empire State Building, the Abraham Lincoln. The moment the airship has gone too far to turn back she will reveal her presence though not her feelings to Will Silence. He'll have to take her on his latest adventure, whatever that might be, and that will give her the one chance she may ever to try and make Will reciprocate her feelings. And if any of those forward girl-reporters or crowned females come within arm's-reach this time, they may get a crack on their fingers for their troubles...

Marie-Claire Delacourt was not among the spires of New York City at all. She was huddled in the cargo bay in the belly of the great airship, the Abraham Lincoln. This time, she was determined to follow Will Silence into whatever his next adventure was. She would prove herself to him, prove that she could handle herself and be an asset to him. She had it all planned out.

Marie-Claire had woken very early and dressed in what she thought would be excellent clothes for an adventure: boots, heavy trousers, linen shirt, leather corset, pea coat. With the coat done up, she could pass as a boy--one of the porters. That's how she got on board. What was one more boy helping to load the zeppelin? When the porters left the airship, she was safely hidden away among the crates and large pieces of luggage.

She wondered if Will--she had been calling him Will to his face for the past few years--would even stop by the Rothsteins to say goodbye. That was silly, of course he would. He always did. She wondered if he missed saying goodbye to her.

She snuggled down and took a nap. She had to wait this out for two and a half days, that would put them beyond the halfway point with no way to turn around to return her to New York. Will would have to take her with him. She went to sleep with a smile on her elfin face anticipating Will, anticipating adventure, anticipating...love

~~~

Marie-Claire awoke to the sound of men's voices moving through the crates and boxes.

"Dunno why we have to come down here and lug the truck back up. Why'd she have it stowed down 'ere in the first place?"

"Doesn't matter, Mike. The lady wants her trunk--the lady gets her trunk."

The footsteps came closer, the light from a torch swayed back and forth over the cargo. Marie-Claire hunkered down making herself as small as possible. It was far too soon to be found out. She willed the men to go look in a diferent direction. She failed. Merde.

"'Ere now, what's this?" The man who wasn't Mike said. He shined the torch on Marie-Claire. "The jig is up, come outta there."

She sighed and extricated herself from behind the crate.

"You know what the punishment is for stowaways, boy-o?" Not Mike hauled her out into the open.

"I must have fallen asleep after we finished loading. I can work my passage off. I'm a good worker." She said. She only needed another day before she revealed herself to Will.

"Pfft." The man said. "Tell it to the captain afore he tosses you over the side."

When she struggled, Mike grabbed her knapsack and the two men walked her to the bridge.

"Capt'n, we found a stowaway. Should we put 'im in the brig?" The airship didn't have an actual brig, but there was a largish closet that locked that they occasionally used to detail passengers when needed.

Marie-Claire was angry. She could not spend the entire flight locked up. Her clever mind thought through a few scenarios. She decided on a course of action.

"Sir," She addressed the captain, "I am under special instructions, I have a message that must be delivered to Will Silence and to him alone. It is a matter of vital importance. You must take me to him at once."

"Will Silence, you say?" Any number of people knew the great hero was on board. But why would the lad say he had a message for him? "If I find out you are lying, things will go much worse for you. As captain, I am judge and jury. My word is law. If I saw stowaways are to be tossed overboard, it will be done. Tell me the truth and you will only be confined until we reach port."

"But Sir, it is imperative that I speak with Mr. Silence. The fate of nations rests on my message to him." Marie-Claire was a consumate liar. Growing up on the streets of Paris taught her many skills that years at the finishing school could not erase. "I assure you, Mr. Silence would never allow any harm to come to me."

"Very well. Take the lad to him. And if this is all a lie, lock this one up until I decide just how harsh my punishment will be."

~~~

Again Marie-Claire was roughly escorted through the airship, this time to the state room of Will Silence.

Mike rapped on the door. Will answered. His broad shoulders filled the doorway.

Marie-Claire looked up at her savior, mentor and, if she had her way, partner in adventure and much more. She jerked out of Mike's grip. "Sir, I have an important message for you alone." Her eyes flashed defiance.

Will rarely allowed himself any sign of surprise beyond an arched eyebrow. But even he blinked in surprise as he opened the door. The charming, irrepressible girl who had been haunting his thoughts, who was supposed to be hundreds of miles away at this point, was standing before him. Marie-Claire? It was almost as his thoughts had conjured her up.

Her slender body was shrouded in a heavy naval coat, the collar turned up around her face. A flush of anger covered her delicately pretty features, somehow rendering them even more attractive, and her wonderful blue eyes glittered with defiance, mischief and something else, something Will couldn't describe but which made him want to gather her up in his arms there and then. He had never realised before how beautiful his young friend was.

"Sir, I have an important message for you alone."

The crewman behind her was clearly annoyed at being upstaged. He cleared his throat while making a grab at her collar, but Marie-Claire neatly sidestepped him.

"We do apologise, Mr Silence, but this young lad...", here the crewman frowned, and looked at Marie-Claire again uncertainly. He had succeeded in tugging Marie-Claire's collar down and the beautiful face revealed looked remarkably feminine. "This young person," he hedged, "Says... they have a message for you."

Will nodded slowly. "Imagine they do."

Wide-eyed with curiosity, the two crewman watched as Will motioned Marie-Claire into the cabin. He then peeled off a roll from his wallet and handed the two five dollars each.

"Thank you, gents."

The two rather reluctantly went on their way. Watching them out of sight, Will could hear one telling the other:

"Mike, I don't reckon that was a boy at all..."


His state room was decorated in deep, warm colours -red and amber hues. Plush, velvet-lined seats were drawn up to a full size polished writing desk, while the bed was a huge king-sized affair, the monogram of the Abraham Lincoln on the head. A cut-glass decanter of brandy was matched with two antique glasses on a side-board. Will, who had slept rough in the mountains of Tibet and bedded down in the slums of Cairo, had never gotten quite used to luxury and it still made him uncomfortable.

He knew that he should be stern and he knew that he was baffled but there was one thing he wanted to do before all else. He grabbed Marie-Claire and hugged her to him, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her hair and the feeling of her body against him. Her warm, slender body, the feel of it... Will reluctantly let her go, cursing the part of him that wanted to let the embrace linger.

"What in the world are you doing here, kiddo?"

Marie-Claire returned the hug rubbing her cheek against Will's hard chest. She tipped her head up to look at him as he drew away, her expression was one of a woman wanting to be kissed.

"What in the world are you doing here, kiddo?"

Insufferable man. Kiddo? She was not a child. She had not considered herself a child for some time.

"I wanted to come on an adventure with you. So I stowed away." Marie-Claire said. Even though she had been educated at a tony private school, she retained her French accent. She found that people thought it charming. Especially Will. She learned to us it to her advantage. She smiled at him impishly. "It is easier to ask forgiveness than permission. N'est pas?"

She as she unbuttoned her coat revealing a leather corset with many buckles across the front. A very small dagger was hidden in the cleavage of it like a stomacher in Elizabethan garb. She had a small pistol in one boot and a serious knife in the other.

"So--what is our mission?" She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a hook near the door. She continued to act as if she and Will had planned this reunion from the beginning. She could not afford to give him a chance to think of ways to return her home. She had four days to convince him that she would be an asset. She gave him an expectant look.

After Will let her go, Marie-Claire stood for a moment. Her head was tilted up towards him. Her lustrous eyes were heavy-lidded and her soft red lips were ever so slightly parted. There was an inexplicable look of delicious desire on her face.

Then a mischevious smile replaced it, as she told him how she'd stolen aboard the airship. Will couldn't help but respond to that grin with a wry smile of his own, even as his heart sank at the thought of the complications to which her presence gave rise.

Then all thoughts ceased for a moment as she shrugged out of her coat. Underneath, Marie-Claire was wearing a tight-fitting leather bustier, encasing the curves of her lithe young body. It shifted and flexed with the movements of her beautifully rounded and smooth breasts, irresistibly drawing the eye to them. Gleaming metal buckles were sewn across the surface of the corset, and there seemed to be an array of useful pockets everywhere on it. Will's experienced eye immedietely picked out the very top of what looked a knife hilt nestled in the neckline, in the valley of that delicious cleavage.

His immediate thought was to wonder how the vision before him could ever have been mistaken for a boy.

"Hmm. Our mission."

Will had run away from home much younger than Marie-Claire. But his stomach tied in knots at the thought of anything happening to her. On the other hand, she'd be more in danger if he didn't tell her anything at all. He motioned for her to sit, and took a seat himself.

"Have you ever heard of Baron von Kreighorst?"

It was an infamous name throughout the world. Kreighorst was the greatest of the sky pirates, an engineer and inventor with a heart as black and unscrupulous as his mind was brilliant. He had an implacable grudge against all of society, which had rejected him. From a hidden stronghold on some fog-shrouded mid-Atlantic island, his jetpack-equipped raiders flew forth, attacking and looting zeppelins and melting away before the North Atlantic powers could bring their forces to bear.

"I've got reliable word that the Abe Lincoln is Krieghorst's next target," said Will. "I'm going to find out where he's hiding."

He looked at Marie-Claire again. She was so achingly precious to him. He knew with sudden, cold clarity that he'd die if anything happened to her.

Marie-Claire caught Will looking her over. He seemed to like what he saw. She thought her ensemble was perfect for an adventure.

She thought briefly of the Rothsteins and supposed she would have to send a wire to them at some point so they didn't fret when they found she hadn't slept in her bed and was missing from all of her usual haunts.

She nodded and grinned happily. "Oui. Our mission. I am here to help you." She gave him her most charming smile. "We should have a drink to celebrate." That's what adults did, wasn't it?

"The Baron? He is a pirate. He has been attacking airships for some time now." She sat up straight and practically bounced in her seat with enthusiasm. "Tell me your plan, Will." She leaned forward hanging on his every word.

"We'll see," said Will. Marie-Claire's mischevious enthusiasm was infectious. He hated the fact that her presence here brought her into danger, but he couldn't regret having her with him.

Her eyes were shining as they discussed bloodthirsty pirates; Will got the impression that she was barely restraining herself from clapping her hands together with delight. Her excited grin only enhanced the beauty of her elfin face. And she sat straight up, arching her back and innocently pushing her impressive breasts forward in a mouthwatering unconscious display. Will had played pokers with some of the most dangerous men in Mexico City and had learned how to keep an impassive face -a skill he was suddenly and unaccountably grateful for now.

"Krieghorst's usual MO is to swoop in suddenly and overpower any resistance. He then has all crew and passengers locked in the hold of their own vessel so they can't see where the ship goes, and his own men fly it off to his hideaway. He wires off for ransom -and those who don't have their ransom paid get dumped in the ocean. He always has spies on the ships he takes -my... our job is to find the spy before he attacks, and try and get the location of Krieghorst's isle out of him."

Marie-Claire would have pouted at Will's lack of enthusiasm for having her on board were it not for her own overwhelming excitement to finally be a part of Will's adventurous life. She clasped her hands together and held them between her knees to keep herself from jumping up and down. Mrs. Rothstein often said that Marie-Claire was six going on thirty-five.

Will had found her when she was little more than a child on the streets of Paris when she tried--and failed--to pick his pocket. he gained her instant respect for that alone. Because of that, along with being more of a tomboy anyway, she never really learned the art of being a woman. The subtle glance, the coy smile, the languorous crossing of the legs, any numbers of postures meant to set off the figure and draw attention. She was thoroughly unconscious about how she moved and the effect it had on the men around her. It was a good thing, too. She would be formidable indeed if she ever learned to use what nature gave her.

"C'est horrible!" Marie-Claire said looking horrified. "He destroys the ship as well? He must have very many men to subdue an entire ship. How do you intend to discover his spy?"

She stood up and went to the sideboard. She poured one glass half full of brandy and the other only a finger's worth. She gave the large glass to Will and raised her own. "To the defeat of von Kreighorst." She smiled and sipped her brandy trying to look like she did this sort of thing all the time. In the end, she was proud that she didn't choke on it and only made a slight face as it burned down her throat to settle into her stomach and turn into a fuzzy warm feeling.

Will grinned at Marie-Claire. Even the slightest of her movements was remarkably quick, agile and deft. He watched her swallow down the small glass of brandy she'd poured herself and heroically suppress a splutter.

He raised his own glass in a salute to her toast and knocked back the fiery liquor in a single quick movement. His face remained as calm as ever.

"He won't try anything this close to land, so we have a couple of days. We need to keep our ears open. Did you notice anything unusual whil you were doing your Jim Hawkins impression in the hold?"

"Jim Hawkins, I like that." Marie-Claire grinned. "I was not in the hold long and slept most of the time. That is how I got caught--I was sleeping and it was too late for me to move. The fancy school you sent me too has taken off my edge." She was not happy about that at all.

"There were many crates, many large enough to hold a person. Certainly many are large enough to hold weapons. The men who found me were looking for a trunk to bring up to a woman's cabin."

She set her glass aside. "I imagine that you have checked to see if there are any new staff on board, new officers? That would give the spy access to many areas of the ship where a passenger would be immediately suspicious." She sat back and crossed her legs feeling smug that she had thought of such a thing. She would be a valuable asset to Will Silence, she was sure of it.

Will had to smile ruefully at Marie-Claire's reference to her finishing school. Whenever he'd passed through New York, the Rothsteins had shown him a new pile of troubled letters and reports from the school administration. "Marie-Claire is just not ladylike," was all one plaintive message from her deportment teacher ran.

Will had to reflect that circumstances tended to bear out that judgement. Here she was, having stowed away aboard an airship, armed to the teeth and cheerfully plotting the undoing of a pirate king. She had just tossed down a brandy with only a little tremor at the base of her throat. And her outfit was the very definition of unladylike, being both practical and immodestly revealing.

And Will was becoming uncomfortably aware of everything which Marie-Claire's costume revealed. Her luscious breasts strained underneath the tight bustier, jiggling sensuously with her every movement. The sight would be enough to give her deportment teacher conniptions, although it affected Will rather differently. He also hadn't been able to help noticing, as she bent over the sideboard to pour them their drinks and the fabric of her trousers was drawn tight, that Marie-Claire was also possessed of a tight, shapely and pert derriere.

He was being silly, Will told himself. Marie-Claire was just a dear friend, practically a little sister. He'd just convinced himself of this when Marie-Claire chose the moment to cross her slender, graceful legs. Silly, Will reminded himself. Silly silly silly.

Will got to his feet, just now registering what Marie-Claire had actually said.

"I looked through a crew-list."

As Marie-Claire knew, this was all Will Silence would need to do. Will believed in exercising his mind as much as he did his lean, hard body. Through various memory techniques he had picked up on his travels, he could look at a page of densely printed text for a moment and commit to memory every single detail. He could memorize the order of an entire deck of cards, flicking through them casually. This had sometimes made him unpopular at various gambling joints, although Will only cheated when he was playing cheaters.

"What you said, though, about a lady having her trunk brought up -that's unusual, so near the start of a voyage. It might repay closer inspection."

He grinned at Marie-Claire, standing in front of her.

"What'd you say to a little prying? I'm sure not all of your skills have rusted away."

((Marie-Claire could be wearing something like this http://draculaclothing.com/images/aviator-steampunk-corset-5.jpg))

"The men who found me were grumbling that the woman should have marked the trunk to be brought to her room, but it was labeled to go into the hold. They made it sound like she was in one of the large suites." Marie-Claire looked around Will's room. She could not imagine that there were any rooms larger than this one. And his bed! Five people could sleep in it and never touch each other. It seemed rather decadent. Her cheeks flushed a little at the thought. Now that she was here, he would not be bringing any insipid society ladies into his rooms. Not when he had her. She took another sip of her whiskey and this time swallowed it without any problem.

"What'd you say to a little prying? I'm sure not all of your skills have rusted away."

She looked up at him and grinned cheekily. The matron at her current school had not been able to beat that smirk from her face and she had the switch marks to prove it. <Vache stupide.</i> "I would very much love to pry." She bounced out of her chair standing very close to Will. She could smell his aftershave. "What do you want me to do?" The excitement radiated off of her.

Will noticed a delicate rosy flush tint Marie-Claire's lovely face as she glanced at the bed. He didn't know what she was thinking but some thoughts ran unstoppably through his head. Marie-Claire, lying gloriously nude amid rumpled sheets, tossing her head back in ecstasy and moaning with pleasure...

Will tried to clear the thoughts from his head as Marie-Claire leapt up out of her seat, her generous breasts, squeezed and supported by the close-fitting corset, bouncing merrily. Her stunning cobalt eyes glittered with excitement. She was standing very close to Will, who towered above her. He would just have to reach out a hand to run a fingertip down the valley between those soft, firm and creamy breasts. He would only need to reach out his arm to pull her to him, to press her sweet face for a moment against his hard chest and to feel once again the curves of that remarkable lithe body against his own.

He resisted the urge, although a fierce, loving hunger glowed in his eyes as he looked down at Marie-Claire. She stood there, barely an inch between them, balanced on the balls of her feet and a finger pressed in speculation against her ripe, impishly smiling lips -the image of a beautiful girl plotting mischief.

"We need to find out who she is, first of all. But that shouldn't be too hard. I imagine the porters are still complaining about her. Then we've got to find her while she's out of her cabin and borrow her key for a couple of hours, so we can check her cabin, just to see if she's got anything she shouldn't have. That's where you come in, kiddo. You're the borrower. You do the borrowing."

Marie-Claire hadn't needed to steal to live for a long time, but she hadn't let old skills moulder (as another horrified series of letters from her school attested, though she always gamely returned the missing articles).

Marie-Claire saw something in Will's eyes that made her heart skip. Her cheeks colored further and she felt warm to her very toes.

"I know she is in one of the posh suites." She looked around at Will's room. "Are all the fancy rooms at this end of the ship? She could be close by."

She grinned up at him again. "I'm very good at borrowing." She patted a pouch hanging from her waist that contained the tools of her trade. "I might not need to borrow at all, just get the lady out of her room for me for awhile."

She remembered the time she used a hair pin to break into the head mistress' office and then into her locked file cabinet. She had taken the midterm exam answers. And replaced them. She would have gotten away with it too, except her powers of memorization were better than she knew. She answered some questions word for word. She got top scores on everything. Then they expelled her for cheating.

"So, shall we go chat up some people?"

As Will had hoped, they found the porters in steerage, playing cards on a barrelhead. At first, they were made uncomfortable by the presence of passengers but Will, having known working men all his life, was soon able to put them at their ease and have himself dealt into the game.

To his increasing irritation, the men made little effort to disguise their admiring glances at Marie-Claire's breathtaking body, tightly hugged by her leather corset. Will felt like a fool for not realising before how ravishingly lovely the tomboy had become. Over the years, he had gone on thinking of her as the ragged little street-urchin, while her bosom had softly ripened into a pair of irresistibly rounded, high, sweet breasts and her legs had grown long and shapely. There had always been a spark of mischief in her blue eyes, but now it was joined with an unconscious but strong sensuality and passion. Her short-cut hair only emphasised the fragile, feminine beauty of her face. She had, all unawares, a thousand ways of driving a man crazy with desire -touching her lips with the tip of her tongue; standing to attention like a young cadet in a straightbacked pose that could not but call attention to her wondrous cleavage; cocking her head to one side in thought.

The porters were so distracted by Marie-Claire's innocent display that it was rather hard for Will to lose to them, but by carefully bad play, he managed to do so. He'd never known a cheerful loser be unwelcome in any gaming house, from Hong Kong to San Francisco. He gradually shifted the conversation around to the subject of difficult passengers. As he'd hoped, one of them took the bait.

"Talk about difficult passengers, son! We 'ad one, just now, 'ad Pat and Mike bring up her case from storage just a day after we took off! You know how hard it is to find things in there? What's more, they said they found a stowaway -some ragged young scamp... "

"Kids these days," agreed Will. "What did you say her name was? The lady, I mean."

"Oh, her? Fraulein Anna von Ehrengard. Daughter of the Kraut ambassador."

Then she can't be the spy, Will thought.

Or could she?

Marie-Claire realized she was a distraction for the poker players, which would have been fine had Will actually wanted to win. So, after a time, she wandered away from the game feigning boredom. It did give her a chance to admire Will from afar. In his shirtsleeves with the collar open, it emphasized his broad shoulders. He rolled up his sleeves between hands revealing his strong forearms. She had not realized that a man's forearms could be so...appealing. The hair on his tanned arms had been bleached by the sun. Oh, how she wanted those strong arms around her. She was sure she would fit withing them perfectly.

Marie-Claire took a breath that was more like a sigh then went back to wandering. She looked at trunks and crates noting their tags and labels. She had a rather good memory, which had been a saving grace in school since despite spending little time studying, she had managed to get passing grades. It was her behavior and attitude that caused all of her problems.

She tapped her lower lip with a forefinger. Here were some interesting crates, the right size for carrying arms. How interesting...Look what the label said. She smiled.

She wandered some more making her way back slowly, pausing where the porters had hung their coats. There was a board with keys, and voilà, keys to staterooms. She lifted them carefully, not making a sound. She tucked them into the tooled leather pouch on her belt.

Marie Claire walked back to the poker game. It was not a walk so much as a jaunty stride. She gave Will a wink when she caught his eye. "I think you enjoy being the loser." She said with a small pout. They could go now, or she would make her excuses and see if she could get into of the Fraulein's room. She would rather have Will with her in case she needed a distraction, but she would follow his lead.

((So it can be the Fraulein, or perhaps she is just a pawn and things were brought on board unbeknowst to her. Maybe it's her maid who is the insider. Shrug, it doesn't matter to me. Marie-Claire is getting anxious for bedtime. She wants to try out that big bed. *grin*))

Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Marie-Claire watching him with a certain wondering gaze. If it had been any other young woman, he would have recognised that look ... the thought bothered him. This was Marie-Claire.

He laid down his cards as she returned, grinning at her little wink.

"Right, gents. I think we've gotta be going."

There were general protests, especially at Marie-Claire's exit.

"How about you sit on my lap to bring me luck, darlin'?"

Will's smiling, cheerful dunce persona disappeared with frightening speed. A cold grey glare utterly silenced the porter who had called out.


A small amount of investigation located Fraulein von Ehrengard's stateroom and revealed that the Fraulein herself was at the swimming pool (it was at the base of the zeppelin, and the bottom of the pool was a sheet of unbreakable but transparent glass. Nothing appeared to separate the swimmer from the Atlantic, thousands of feet below. Swimming there was not recommended for the acrophobic). Will calculated that they had sufficient time.

The stateroom was located two levels below Will's. They gained entry, thanks to Marie-Claire's deft fingers and the set of keys she had lifted from the porters while they concentrated on Will's losses and her own cleavage.

The stateroom was decorated after the style of the Weimar Republic, in gold and black. Sleek lines dominated the room; a Max Ernst hung on the wall. A long ivory cigarette-holder was carelessly left on the bedside table. A little alcove was set in the wall, covered by heavy midnight blue drapes. Will raised an eyebrow. He wondered whose idea it was to give the daughter of the Nazi ambassador a stateroom so reminiscent of Germany's vanished past.

He was just about to suggest that they start looking when there came the sound of footsteps outside. A key was placed in the lock and the door-handle started to turn.

Thinking quickly, Will gestured to Marie-Claire towards the curtained alcove. He pulled the drapes back just as the door opened. The alcove was very small and the two were pressed together.

Will was acutely conscious of the fresh, clean smell of Marie-Claire's hair, her head nestled under his chin. One arm had automatically gone around her waist. Her firm, pert buttocks were pressed against his groin. Will desperately tried to take his mind off the soft, smooth feel of Marie-Claire's skin, of how easy it would be to plant a row of kisses on her jawline, just below the ear, of how he would just need to raise his hand an inch to sink his fingers underneath the leather corset and explore the tender, ripe cleavage. His cock had hardened. Will closed his eyes and tried to will it down.

Looking for a distraction as much as anything else, he applied his eye to a gap in the drapes to look through at the cabin's occupant.

((OMG, I thought I posted this hours ago. Thank goodness I didn't lose the post since I usually write them out in notepad first.))

Marie-Claire gave a lighthearted laugh. "Oh, monsieur, we really must be going. Perhaps another time." She was a little startled at Will's break in character. It made her a little angry that he was so protective of her. She could take care of herself, she had done it long before he came along. She did not want Will to be her protector. She wanted him to be her lover. She followed him out of the hold.

--

Marie-Claire was happy to show off her skills to Will. She had them inside the room in no time.

And ugh, what a room. "Nazi Baroque. Comme c'est beau." She said sarcastically. She was going to start carefully opening drawers when she heard the noise in the hall. "Putain!" She hissed.

On light cat feet she ran to Will and crammed herself against him in the alcove. He put his arm around her. Her own hand slipped along his arm to rest on top of his hand. Her heart thudded in her chest. She wondered if he could feel it. It was always thrilling to break into a place,, but she had never been this close to being caught. She leaned back against Will's chest.

Her eyes opened wide when she felt Will's reaction to being this close. She had to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from squealing with delight. This was no time for that sort of thing but she wanted to bounce up and down and shout. She wanted to turn around and wrap her arms around Will and plant a kiss on his lips so fierce it would set the drapes on fire.

She heard movement in the room and the possibility of the danger they were in finally calmed her enough to look through the gap along with Will.

Underneath the palm of his hand, Will could feel the fierce, rapid beat of Marie-Claire's heart. Was she frightened? Trying to reassure her, he slipped his other arm around her slender waist and pulled her even closer to him. Marie-Claire leaned her head against his chest. Will desperately recited the Yankees line-up in his head in a vain effort to take his mind off the delicate, irresistible body pressed up against his. His erection refused to subside.

Both of them looked through the gap in the curtain. A woman, evidently Anna von Ehrengard, reclined languidly on the bed. She was still dressed in her dark blue swimsuit and her toned, hard body gleamed a healthy shade of gold. Her white-blonde hair was crewcut and icy, cruel blue eyes gleamed from an angular face. Another time, Will would have considered the sight worth admiring, but at the moment, he found it hard to think of anything but the wonderful French beauty in his arms, her passion and warmth so much more to his liking than Aryan ice.

Next to Anna on the bed lay a sleek black suitcase. She had opened it, revealing a set of advanced radio equipment, and taken out a microphone.

"Von Krieghorst? Come in! Come in!"

Will was startled. What did this mean? Were the Nazis and the pirate baron in league? In his surprise, he must have shifted a little -and the ambassador's daughter was instantly alert. She whirled around on the bed, all her languor vanished, and a slim, long black pistol appearing in her hands, pointed at the alcove.

"Come out of there now."

Marie-Claire put the slim fingers of one hand to her lips to stifle a moan when Will put his other arm around her. He pulled her even tighter against him. There was absolutely no denying that whatever was going on in his brain about their predicament, his tringle* had other ideas. If they were not in such imminent danger, she would turn in his arms and kiss him to show him she felt the same way about him. She could feel her hard nipples crushed against the leather of her corset.

Marie-Claire had to admit, the woman was a beauty, in the strong, blonde, blue-eyed Nazi Master-Race ideal. She wondered if Will preferred this sort of woman, long and lean, to her own petite but curvaceous form. Anna von Ehrenhard was an ice queen. Marie-Claire considered herself more a fire sprite.

What the woman said into the microphone confirmed it. She was working for the pirate. Merde. And they had been discovered. MALPT!**

Marie-Claire wondered if the woman would recognize Will. Most probably. Who did not know Will Silence? His face was in newspapers and newsreels all over the world. They would not be able to play the secret lovers hoping to have a tryst in an unoccupied room.

The girl thought fast. She would be what she was. A thief sneaking in one of the expensive cabins to snatch something worthwhile and run, and now caught. It might be distraction enough for Will to turn the tables.

She pushed Will's hands away from her and stepped out of the curtained alcove hoping it was dark enough inside for Anna not to see there was another occupant. She held her hands up to show she had no weapon in them. "Ne tirez pas." (Don't shoot.) She did not have to act frightened, because she was. She would play the stowaway and thief. And a none too bright one.

She moved slowly away from the alcove. Her goal was to get Anna's back to it, so Will could emerge and save the day.

"Ne tirez pas." She repeated.

"Stand still." The woman ordered in accented French. "Who are you?What are you doing in here?" Anna leveled the pistol at Marie-Claire's chest.

"I am nobody, a stowaway." Marie-Claire whimpered. Her hands shook. "Do not tell the captain, he will throw me over the side. I came in here to hide. They would not look for me so far from the hold. I thought you would be gone longer." She sniffed back fake tears and shifted her weight. She could inch her way further from the alcove.

"A stowaway? I should call the captain right now." A feral smile touched the woman's lips. "I wonder how far you would fall before I could no longer hear your screams..."

Marie-Claire looked at the woman in horror that was only a little fake. Anna would rather drag out her demise then make it clean and pull the trigger. That boded well in the short term. Keep her talking so Will could make his move.

"Mademoiselle, please." Marie-Claire made her lower lip tremble. "If you would just let me go...We can forget I was here. I would do anything for you not to tell the captain."

The Ice Queen smirked, "Anything?" She walked a few steps closer to Marie-Claire. The tall woman chuckled. "Ma petite, you have no idea what you are in for."

---

*Tringle = hard-on. I do not speak French, let alone coarse French, but I found a site to help me Since Marie-Claire spent so much time on the streets, I am sure she knows every vulgar word relating to sex there is to know.

**Merde to the thirteenth power. This is my new favorite curseword!

Marie-Claire looked at the woman. "What do you want me to do?" She said with a frown.

Anna kept her gun leveled on the girl. She pulled a chair away from the desk. "Pull down your trousers and lean over the back of this chair."

"What?! Non! Non non non."

"Then I shall contact the captain and we will see what punishment he will mete out. Though, as you said, he won't deal lightly with a stowaway and a thief."

"I have stolen nothing." Marie-Claire spat. Why was Will taking so long?

"No more talking, Fraulein. Pull down your pants and take your punishment."

Marie-Claire stomped to the chair. She undid the buttons on her trousers and pushed them down to her knees where her boots stopped them from going further.

"You have the haunches of a thoroughbred." Anna smiled. She went to the closet and took out a riding crop. She smacked it against her hands a few times. "I think ten strokes should be enough. For now."

"For now? What do you me--"

Anna brought the crop down across Marie-Claire's buttocks with a loud thwack. the girl yelped.

"Bend over the chair back and hold onto the seat or the rest of the strokes will be even harder."

Marie-Claire glared at the woman and blinked back tears. She could not look at the alcove and give Will away. She assumed the position and angled the chair even more so that Anna would have her back to Will.

Anna traced the curve of one of Marie-Claire's creamy ass cheeks, then quick as a serpent's strike, the crop came down again.

Marie-Claire yelped again.

Waiting was torture for Will. He knotted his fists, telling himself that to simply rush out would only get them both killed. His rage boiled over as he saw the plans Anna had for Marie-Claire. She had pulled down the tomboy's trousers, exposing a mouthwatering view of shapely leg and her pert nude buttocks, a red mark from the first stroke clearly outlined across them. Under other circumstances, Will could have gone into a trance, wanting nothing more than to gaze and admire.

Anna was also impressed, raising a fine blonde eyebrow as she ran a finger across the soft skin of Marie-Claire's ass. She had lowered the gun.

Will made no sound as he emerged from the alcove and grappled Anna from behind. With one twist of his wrist, he disarmed her of the gun. Even with both her arms held behind, the German woman fought like a wild creature, hissing, spitting and biting at him. She was in formidable condition, but Will knew tricks of wrestling and soon had her arms locked together in an immovable grip behind her shoulders. She was panting with exertion, eyes glowing with hatred yet also a certain wild excitement that was close to pleasure. She almost seemed to enjoy being overmastered as much as she had enjoyed torturing Marie-Claire.

"Marie-Claire! Are you all right?"

Will glared at Anna. "I won't hit women but..."

A twist of his wrist bent Anna forward and a heavy thwack echoed across the room as Will's palm descended on Anna's toned, swimsuit-covered ass.

"Turn-about is fair play."

Marie-Claire was steeling herself for another blow and wondering what was taking will so long when there was a burst of activity. She ducked out of the way and pulled her trousers up.

"I'm fine." She called out to Will. Her cheeks were the same red as the welt across her backside. This wasn't the first time she had taken a beating. But was incredibly embarrassing to have Will see her that way.

She nearly told Will that she had no problem hitting a woman. She scooped up Anna's gun and tuck it into her belt.

Anna let out a string for German curses at Will and shrieked that he would have the audacity to spank her.

"I think she likes that too much, Will. What do we do with her now?" Marie-Claire wasn't sure they had enough information to have Anna thrown in the brig. Should they tell the captain?

Will slowly considered the situation, maintaining a close grip on Anna. It was more than possible that he had been responsible for a major diplomatic incident -then again, if Anna represented the German nation in her involvement with von Krieghorst, it could mean war.

"We'll alert the captain."

He looked thoughtfully at the radio-set. "And I'll take that, too. I've got an idea..."


The captain had looked very leery at the prospect of imprisoning the daughter of an ambassador, but the radio provided irrefutable evidence.

"Von Krieghorst has his eye on the Abe? We should go back to New York now!"

Will shook his head. "No, captain. Keep on the present course. I think I can make the skies safe again... but it'll need your help."

The captain looked at him grimly. "Taking an awfully big risk with the lives of my crew and my passengers, aren'tcha, Mr Silence?"

Will grinned. "Just trust me, captain."

"Is this to do with that young scamp who tried to sneak aboard. Where is he now, anyway?"

Will wordlessly nodded towards Marie-Claire. She had recovered her natural aplomb after Anna's assault and now stood with the gun nonchalantly tucked under her belt; an irresistibly rakish, swashbuckling figure. The captain had not failed to notice the impressive curves barely contained by the corset, nor the fragile feminine beauty of her piquant face. His jaw dropped as he made the identification.


Anna had relapsed into a strange calm. As she was taken away, she smirked and pouted her full lips into a kiss directed at both of them.

"Auf wiedersehen."


It was night now and most of the passengers had retired to their cabins, with the exception of a few determined gamblers and billiard-players in the lounge. Will was tired as they walked in through the door of his cabin.

He looked at the bed, suddenly the most noticeable object in the room.

He tried to repress the myriad of sinfully suggestive thoughts that suddenly swarmed in his mind. That single glance of Marie-Claire from behind -her perfectly rounded ass elevated, her breasts still maintaining their delicious buoyancy as she leaned forward...

He cleared his throat.

"I'll sleep on the floor..."