Clementine by Cherie Priest Page A

service yard hand stepped up with a length of chain and a lobster clasp—though the young man didn’t know where to affix it.
    “I’ll handle that, my boy,” Algernon Rice announced as he turned a crank to cut the engines. He dismounted from the bench and took the claw, fastening it to the exposed mainshaft that ran the length of the undercarriage.
    Even though the Fish had settled, Maria felt vibrations in her legs and feet. She stomped them against the bar, then stood and ducked her head in order to escape the frame. Algernon Rice dashed to her side, hand outstretched, but she waved him away this time. She was shaken by the trip, but she would not restore herself to steadiness by leaning on him any further.
    “Thank you,” she said. “But I’m fine. Give me…give me just a moment.” She wrung her hands together, squeezing blood back into them and willing them to warm within the too-thin gloves that hadn’t shielded them well enough.
    “Very well,” he said, and returned his attention to the yard boy, asking after fuel prices, slot rentals, and the nearest boarding house, hotel, or restaurant where a lady might find some refreshments.
    The lady in question was starving, now that she heard him mention it. But there was work to be done and she reached beneath the Fish to untie her bag. Upon retrieving it, she threaded her arm through its wide band of a strap, and held it up under her arm.
    Rice returned, the yard worker at his side. He said, “We can leave the Fish here, and I’ve arranged for a refueling and a brief stay. I’m sure you can understand if I’m in no rush to return to the air. It’s a bit unsettling, isn’t it?”
    She nodded, and said, “I’ve never had a ride quite like it. And I hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but I’m in no hurry to repeat it. I think a passenger line will make an easier return trip for me.” She turned her attention to the boy beside him and said, “You work here, young man?”
    “Yes ma’am,” he said.
    “Perhaps you could answer a question for me, if it isn’t too much trouble. Could you tell me, please, what’s that ship over there?” And she pointed across the way, to a monstrous great craft that was cast in hues of black and silver. It was easily half again as large as the Cherokee Rose , and a thousand times less friendly.
    The boy hemmed and hawed before finally saying, “It’s a military ship, ma’am. It’s here for some repair work, or something. I don’t know exactly.”
    “And even if you did,” she guessed, “You aren’t supposed to talk about it, anyway?”
    He looked relieved, and said, “That’s right. Everybody knows it’s there, but we’re all supposed to pretend it’s not.”
    Maria didn’t have to ask which military the behemoth belonged to. She made her assumption even before she walked down the lane between the rows of ships, and spied the blue logo with silver lettering. Seeing the ship unsettled her for no reason she could name, and a thousand she could suggest. But at the core, it only made her unhappy because she was no longer supposed to feel threatened by it.
    After making another arrangement or two with the yard boy, Algernon Rice took the larger of Maria’s two bags and walked beside her on the way to the edge of the docks. “We can take an early supper, if you like. There’s a serving house a few blocks away where you can rent a room.”
    “But I doubt I shall need a room, Mr. Rice. If Croggon Hainey is still within Kansas City’s limits, it is my fervent hope that I’ll find him and deliver him to the authorities with all haste.”
    “Undoubtedly,” he said too casually, as if he had no doubt that she was incorrect. “But it would be worth your while to have a stable base of operations, don’t you think? A room where you can leave your belongings, and a place to which you might retire if you’re compelled to stay in town longer than you expect. Anyway,” he added, “It’s on the Pinkerton