draw breath to cry out, he made a second cut in the opposite direction, a nearly perfect X. Now Oomen was screaming.
Kaz wiped the knife clean, returned it to his sleeve, and drove his gloved fingers into Oomen’s eye socket. He shrieked and twitched as Kaz yanked out his eyeball, its base trailing a bloody root. Blood gushed over his face.
Kaz heard Wylan retching. He tossed the eyeball overboard and jammed his spit-soaked handkerchief into the socket where Oomen’s eye had been. Then he grabbed Oomen’s jaw, his gloves leaving red smears on the enforcer ’s chin. His actions were smooth, precise, as if he were dealing cards at the Crow Club or picking an easy lock, but his rage felt hot and mad and unfamiliar.
Something within him had torn loose.
“Listen to me,” he hissed, his face inches from Oomen’s. “You have two choices. You tell me what I want to know, and we drop you at our next port with your pockets full of enough coin to get you sewn up and buy you passage back to Kerch. Or I take the other eye, and I repeat this conversation with a blind man.”
“It was just a job,” babbled Oomen. “Geels got five thousand kruge to bring the Black Tips out in force. We pulled in some Razorgulls, too.”
“Then why not more men? Why not double your odds?”
“You were supposed to be on the boat when it blew! We were just supposed to take care of the stragglers.”
“Who hired you?”
Oomen wavered, sucking on his lip, snot running from his nose.
“Don’t make me ask again, Oomen,” Kaz said quietly. “Whoever it was can’t protect you now.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“And I’ll make you wish for death, so you have to weigh those options.”
“Pekka Rollins,” Oomen sobbed. “It was Pekka Rollins!”
Even through his own shock, Kaz registered the effect of the name on Jesper and Wylan. Helvar
didn’t know enough to be intimidated.
“Saints,” groaned Jesper. “We are so screwed.”
“Is Rollins leading the crew himself?” Kaz asked Oomen.
“What crew?”
“To Fjerda.”
“I don’t know about no crew. We were just supposed to stop you from getting out of the harbour.”
“I see.”
“I need a medik. Can you take me to a medik now?”
“Of course,” said Kaz. “Right this way.” He took Oomen by the lapels and hoisted him off his feet, bracing his body against the railing.
“I told you what you wanted!” Oomen screamed, struggling. “I did what you asked!”
Despite Oomen’s knobby build, he was deceptively strong – farm strong like Jesper. He’d probably grown up in the fields.
Kaz leaned in so that no one else could hear it when he said, “My Wraith would counsel mercy. But thanks to you, she’s not here to plead your case.”
Without another word, he tipped Oomen into the sea.
“No!” Wylan shouted, leaning over the railing, his face pale, stunned eyes tracking Oomen in the waves. The enforcer ’s pleas were still audible as his maimed face faded from view.
“You … you said if he helped you—”
“Do you want to go over, too?” asked Kaz.
Wylan took a deep breath as if sucking in courage and sputtered, “You won’t throw me overboard.
You need me.”
Why do people keep saying that? “Maybe,” said Kaz. “But I’m not in a very rational mood.”
Jesper set his hand on Wylan’s shoulder. “Let it go.”
“It’s not right—”
“Wylan,” Jesper said, giving him a little shake. “Maybe your tutors didn’t cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blood and a knife up his sleeve.”
Wylan pressed his lips into a thin line. Kaz couldn’t tell if the kid was frightened or furious, and he didn’t much care. Helvar stood silent sentinel, observing it all, looking seasick green beneath his blond beard.
Kaz turned to Jesper. “Fit Helvar with some shackles to keep him honest,” he said as he headed below. “And get me clean clothes and fresh water.”
“Since when am I your valet?”
“Man with a knife, remember?” he said over his shoulder.
“Man with a gun!” Jesper called after him.
Kaz replied with a time-saving gesture that relied heavily on his middle finger and disappeared belowdecks. He wanted a hot bath and a bottle of brandy, but he’d settle for being alone and free of the stink of blood for a while.
Pekka Rollins. The name rattled through his head like gunfire. It always came back to Pekka Rollins, the man who had taken everything from him. The man who now stood between Kaz and the
biggest haul any crew had ever attempted. Would Rollins send someone in his place or lead the crew to nab Bo Yul-Bayur himself?
In the dim confines of his cabin, Kaz whispered the words “Brick by brick.” Killing Pekka Rollins had always been tempting, but that wasn’t enough. Kaz wanted Rollins brought low. He wanted him to suffer the way Kaz had, the way Jordie had. And snatching thirty million kruge right out of Pekka Rollins’ grubby hands was a very good way to start. Maybe Inej was right. Maybe fate did bother with people like him.