Jack and the Predecessor

A story Train contributed to by: LMRS, and aeverett

The first words he uttered upon arrival were, "Where am I?" The answer came back, "In the village...In Pulau Pulau."

He turned around to see a beautiful young woman. "I take it you are Mrs. Emilia Rothchild."

The reply was accompanied by a nod and a smile. "I take it you are Mr. Simon Drake. I bid you welcome. Your reputation precedes you."

Mr. Drake bowed in return. Em found herself to be quite taken by the gentleman. Despite his advanced years, he was still an impressive figure. Any woman would be fascinated by his craggy features and sparkling blue eyes.

"Excuse me," Jack chimed in. "But will someone introduce me?"

Em smiled. "Oh Jack...I do beg your pardon...Mr. Drake, this is my personal attache, Mr. Jack Stiles."

"How you doin'?" Jack said.

"Please excuse Mr. Stiles' lack of manners," Em noted. "He is an American I'm afraid."

Jack reacted with a "Hey!"

"I am pleased to meet the both of you," said Drake. "And to return to the fair island of Pulau Pulau. Yes, I was here many years ago. A very exciting place. I will never forget the Daring Dragoon."

Jack reacted with a start. "You ran into the Dragoon?"

Drake smiled, "More than once. A most amazing character. I imagine they think of him now as a legend, a myth. Back in my day he was quite real."

"He has become real again," said Captain Brogard as he joined the group. "I have crossed swords with the Dragoon myself. Greetings, Mr. Drake. I bring word from the Governor Croque himself. He asks that you do him the honor of dining with him tonight."

Drake nodded, "I'd be delighted. Might I be so bold as to ask Mrs. Rothchild to accompany me?"

"I would also be delighted," the lady responded. "And at dinner, you must tell me all about what is happening in England. I must hear of the latest trends and fashions."

***********

Emilia had just finished dressing for the occasion when Jack piped up, "I've never seen you fling yourself at a man like that before. What's he got that I don't got?"

Emilia scoffed, "I did not 'fling' myself at Mr. Drake, as you put it. It has just been a long time since I've talked to someone from England. From where you would say, 'The Old Neighborhood'."

"And that's all there is to it," Jack grinned. "It had nothing to do with his rougish good looks and manly charm."

Em grinned back. "Well...I won't say I didn't notice."

"Just don't get too taken by him, sister. I noticed something myself. He moves like a hunter stalking his prey. I'm sure if I did some research I would find out that Simon Drake worked as a secret agent man for your government."

"It takes one to know one. Is that what you're saying?"

"We spies need an instinct for that. It keeps us alive."

"I'll take your advice under consideration. Right now, let's go to dinner."

**************

"That was a most sumptous dinner, Governer. Your cook must be great demand," Emilia cooed to the pompous Frenchman, as she delicately wiped her mouth.

"Yes, Missuerre Jerrard came to me straight from one of the finest cooking schools in Paris," The Governer replied, nodding to the lady in the chair next to him.

"You have schools for cooking in France? Back home we just shoot it and toss it in the pot!" Jack commented, as Emilia shut her eyes, and sucked in her upper lip. Truth be told, Jack loved to show off his crude American ways. The less people thought of you, the more they would say around you, believing you too dumb to understand. It was also quite a hoot to watch Emilia's face contort, and her cheeks slightly redden.

"No doubt it tastes much better than English fair," Mr. Drake responded with a chuckle. He could see Miss Rothschild's embarrassment, and he had had to take pity on her. Her American attache truly was a curr. Fortunately, once she had completed her next assignment, which he he'd been sent to deliver to her personaly, she would no longer have to deal with the obnoxious man.

Simon continued, "I understand that you're having problems with that old Daring Dragoon again. I was here when he first terrorized the aristocracy in these parts."

"So he was never a myth," The Governor pondered.

"Oh no, he was quite real. I'm just amazed that he is still active. He must be in his sixties or seventies by now."

"He doesn't look that old, I assure you."

"Is he wearing the same outfit? The hat? The cloak? The mask?"

"Down to the last detail."

"What about the ring?"

Jack reacted at this. "The what?"

"The ring," Simon said. "He had a large ring on his right hand. It was inscribed with a the letter 'D'."

Jack had a confused look on his face. "That's the first I've heard of that."

"It wasn't very well known," Simon mused. "Only those who saw the Dragoon up close would know that detail. It's of no importance. I'm surprised at your reaction to it, Mr. Stiles."

"Well..." Jack flustered. "I'd like to know the details of this Dragoon fellow. If we should meet up in a dark alley, I'd like to be sure it was he who coshed me and stole my purse."

"Indeed..." Simon smiled. He took a good look at this ugly American, and wondered if he was indeed the curr he seemed. He too thought he knew a spy when he saw one. He wondered if he was spying one now.

*************

As the evening came to a close, the two Brits and one American guests shared a carriage back to Emilia's Rothschild's estate.

"So Lady Cates just said that the dish was meant to be sour and went on to eat everything on her plate! No one had the nerve to question her, and half of London was ill for the next three days! Imagine using apple vinegar, when the recipe clearly called for apple cider!" Simon Drake roared, with bousterous laughter.

Emilia tossed her head back, and a joyfull chuckle escaped her lips. "Oh my. Growing up, I never understood why Lady Cates never threw any dinner parties. She hosted a fabulous ball each season, but never a sit down dinner. I had no idea..." Emilia broke off, tumbling into a fit of giggles.

Jack felt quite uneasy, watching Emilia and Mr. Drake go on and on about London Society. While he too had been brought up in a relatively wealthy home, his family was new money, and definately not of any aristocracy. In his house, the aristocracy, back in England, had been cursed on a daily basis. They were vapid, thoughtless to the point of cruelty, and they looked on those like Jack and his dear parents, as if they were heathen beasts instead human beings.

As Jack watch Emilia laugh again at another of Simon Drake's witisms, and Jack's stomach turned, as he began to wonder if indeed that was the way Emilia Rothschild really saw him. She always spoke of human equality and fairness, yet she had probably never worked her silken fingers till they bled, nor slept upon the frozen ground, whilst traveling on business. She had never partaken of manual labor, despite her genious at business and science, and her shrewd talent for espionage.

Jack ripped his eyes away from his partner, and focused on the horses pulling them home. Was that all he was in her eyes?

He saw the way Emilia was smiling and flirting with Drake, and his discontentment turned to fear and anger. This man was not what he appeared to be, and despite his pretense of culture, Jack could tell a bloodthirsty, amoral nature lay just beneath the surface. Nomatter what her upbringing, Emilia's associating with Drake was akin to a poodle running with a rabid wolf. Jack knew he had to do something before Emilia was too drawn into Drake's web. He couldn't allow this man to destroy the person he'd come to respect. What troubled Jack most was what he might have to do to keep his partner safe. He'd have to get inside Drake's foul skull, and turn whatever plans the preditor had against him. For once in his life, Jack Stiles was silent and pensive, as he considered all his options. And as the horses began the final uphill stretch, a plan began to form in his mind.

**********

It was only when they had dropped Mr. Drake off at his hotel that Em realized how quiet Jack was during the trip. She mentioned this to him when they arrived at her estate. Jack shrugged as he gave the lady the cold shoulder.

Em gave a slight harumph, "Will you follow me to the laboratory, Mr. Styles?"

They walked past the flaming illusion of the fireplace, and found themselves in the sound-proof secret lab.

Em was all business. "You were right, Jack. Mr. Drake is an agent. In fact, he has given us our next assignment."

Jack was trying to hide some rage. "When did he get you in private to tell you about an assignment?"

"Never mind. Just watch what you do. Mr. Drake will be scrutinizing your work. He wants to be assured I have the best people by my side."

Jack smirked, "I don't need his blessing, thank you. Okay. What's the assignment."

"We have to make sure an object doesn't get stolen."

What object? A priceless diamond? A secret plan?"

"A razor."

"Say what?"

"You heard me. A straight razor used for shaving men's faces. It belongs to The Emperor Napoleon himself. He lent it to Governor Croque in good faith. Now it must be returned to him."

"And we should care about this because?"

"This is how Napoleon checks out the men he gives positions of power. If they can take care of items he lent them, they might be able to take care of the powers he lent them. And if Governor Croque can't bring the razor back safe and sound, the Emperor might have him replaced."

"By someone even worse," Jack mused. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, huh?"

Em nodded. "Drake has gotten word that certain forces will try to grab the razor when it is delivered to the ship that will bring it back to France. We must stop them."

"Call in the Daring Dragoon," Jack noted. "By the way, why didn't you tell me about the Dragoon's ring? I'm going to need one if I'm going to keep this masquerade going."

"I didn't know about the ring," Em asked. "Is it really that important?"

"It is to your precious Simon Drake. You watch yourself around him, okay? The man is a panther, and you're just a tweety bird to him."

Em grinned, "I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

************

Jean-Claude was the first to see the highwaymen that night. He swooped over, ascertained their position on a hill by the road, and flew back to give Jack the full details. He might be a parrot, but he was a master in his craft.

The leader of the thugs had planned this heist to the last detail. They knew that the coach carrying the razor would have to pass this hill. All they had to do was ride down and ambush it. The coach itself won't be too well guarded. Too many men would call too much attention.

"A pleasant night out, isn't it?"

The thugs looked around to see a masked dragoon grinning before them. His sword was drawn.

"Very pleasant," One of them replied as he drew his sword. "But cold, we could use some exercise to warm us up."

"Funny, so could we." came a voice behind them.

The Dragoon spied the owner of the voice. "I thought you'd be here."

"I figured you needed the help," Simon Drake replied. "Shall we band together, and fight these ruffians, Daring Dragoon?"

The two wasted no time in joining forces and attacking the highwaymen. Swords clanged as the battle got into full swing.

"You've done this sort of thing before," Jack said.

Simon nodded. "Back in my day, yes."

As they fought, Simon tossed a ring at the Dragoon. "Here you go. Complete your costume."

The masked man took a look at the "D" on the ring. "Where'd you get this?"

The only answer was a smile. Jack nearly went into shock. Could Simon Drake have been the original Daring Dragoon?

Such questions were thrown on a mental back burner as the two continued to fight. They successfully knocked their opponents out of the running. The stagecoach containing the razor passed by safely.

**********************************

Em smiled. "You did a fine job, Jack. But you didn't finish it off. It was Simon himself who apprehended the ring-leader. Some overbearing man who coveted Croque's position."

Jack pondered the piece of jewelery he held in his hand. "Ring-leader, huh? I think Simon was a ring-leader in his own right."

Em ignored Jack as she produced an envelope. "Simon had to leave. He instructed me to hand you this."

Jack ripped the envelope open, and read the message. "I'm getting too long in the tooth for the role, Jack. I'm pleased to see that The Daring Dragoon is in good hands. Your Servant, Simon Drake."

Jack wished those flames in the fireplace were real. He wanted to toss the paper in and watch it burn.

The Endot of any aristocracy. In his house, the aristocracy, back in England, had been cursed on a daily basis. They were vapid, thoughtless to the point of cruelty, and they looked on those like Jack and his dear parents, as if they were heathen beasts instead human beings.

As Jack watch Emilia laugh again at another of Simon Drake's witisms, and Jack's stomach turned, as he began to wonder if indeed that was the way Emilia Rothschild really saw him. She always spoke of human equality and fairness, yet she had probably never worked her silken fingers till they bled, nor slept upon the frozen ground, whilst traveling on business. She had never partaken of manual labor, despite her genious at business and science, and her shrewd talent for espionage.

Jack ripped his eyes away from his partner, and focused on the horses pulling them home. Was that all he was in her eyes?

He saw the way Emilia was smiling and flirting with Drake, and his discontentment turned to fear and anger. This man was not what he appeared to be, and despite his pretense of culture, Jack could tell a bloodthirsty, amoral nature lay just beneath the surface. Nomatter what her upbringing, Emilia's associating with Drake was akin to a poodle running with a rabid wolf. Jack knew he had to do something before Emilia was to