"The man we're looking for, is named..."

Silence.

A long, long moment of silence. Too bloody long!

"Yes?" I demanded. "Is named what?"

Mr Ambrose raised his eyes from the paper. "John Doe."

Yes! Finally!

Clenching my fists, I couldn't suppress the vicious smile that spread across my face. Finally, I had a name! I knew who to go after and...and...

Wait just a minute.

Eyes narrowing, I stared at Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

"Did you say John Doe?"

"Indeed."

"As in stiff-on-a-slab John Doe?"

A moment of silence.

"Indeed."

"As in an alias? A bloody bastard who didn't give his real name?"

"Indeed."

"Blast!" A snarl ripped from my throat, and I kicked the wall of a nearby building, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain that shot through my foot. "Blast, blast, blast! All of that...all of that for bloody nothing?"

"No."

The single word made me freeze in place. Slowly, hesitantly, I turned towards him. "What was that?"

"I said no. It wasn't for nothing." Lifting the paper to my face, he tapped a spot below that infernal, useless name. a spot where I saw, in crisp, fresh handwriting...

"A...meaningless string of numbers and letters?"

Mr Rikkard Ambrose sent me a look that somehow, while he didn't move a single facial muscle, managed to convey severe disappointment.

"Now, really, Mr Linton. After all the time in my employ, haven't you learned yet? Numbers are never meaningless. Especially not when it comes to money." Suddenly, any hint of disappointment vanished from his eyes, replaced by an ice-cold intent to kill. "And money is my domain."

Whirling around, he snapped his fingers. "Come!"

That tone... I snapped to attention, moving forward before I could even think about not obeying. Blasted secretary instincts honed through years of overtime!

Though I had to admit, I was kind of curious what he was planning. Because I was certain of one thing: he was planning something. I knew that icy sparkle I could see in his eyes all too well. So I followed without hesitation till we reached...the building right next to the bank we'd just left?

Now that was underwhelming. Squinting against the sunlight, I glanced up at the sign above the door.

Nectar Bank Inc.

I frowned. Another bank? Why the heck would he...?

Wait a minute. Nectar Bank? Nectar? As in "nectar and ambrosia"?

That sneaky son of a...!

Before I could say a single word, Mr Rikkard Ambrose had swept open the double doors before us and stepped into the lobby, which, I couldn't help noticing, was twice as massive and impressive as that of the bank next door, with three busy clerks working at their counters.

"Oh my." I glanced around. "Seems like you really didn't like it when the Prime Minister informed you that you couldn't buy the Bank of England."

"Indeed."

"Almost as much as when the Queen informed you that you couldn't buy England."

"Indeed."

The next moment, we arrived in front of the central counter. Mr Ambrose reached out and slammed his newly acquired documents on the wooden surface.

"Trace this."

The clerk looked up, irritated. "Look here, Sir, you can't just storm in and demand...that...we..."

As he caught sight of Mr Ambrose's face, his voice slowly trailed off.

"Mr A-A-Am—"

"Yes."

"P-please wait, Sir, I'll get the manager immediately!"

And, whirling around, the poor fellow rushed through a door behind the counter. It slammed shut, and, a moment later, muffled screaming came from beyond.

Sidling up to Mr Ambrose from behind, I stood up on my tiptoes till I was next to his ear. "Do all your employees all over the world recognize you on sight?"

"They didn't use to. Then, one time, someone didn't recognize me on sight when he really should have. There were consequences. The story spread."

I opened my mouth, not quite sure what to say about that, when the decision was abruptly taken out of my hands. The door behind the counter flew open and a haggard-looking man in a blue tailcoat and bow-tie rushed out, starting to bow and scrape in front of Mr Ambrose.

I cocked an eyebrow at my dear husband questioningly. "Consequences?"

He nodded. "Consequences."

"How may our humble branch be of service, Mr Ambrose, Sir?" the manager enquired with another deep bow. "I promise, we will do everything in our meagre power to help you with anything you might require, no matter what—"

Oh my. Already more than twenty seconds of useless babbling?

Let me guess...this fellow has never met Mr Ambrose before.

"Silence."

The single-word command cut the bank manager off mid-sentence. The next moment, a certain piece of paper was slammed onto the counter.

"This account. I want its owner traced and located. I want their name. I want their address. I want to know anything and everything about them yesterday. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir! As you wish, Mr Ambrose, Sir! I shall—"

"Adequate." A cold glance from Mr Ambrose cut the man off once again. "I shall return in a few days. Do not disappoint me."

Without another word, he whirled around and stalked towards the exit. Hurrying after him, I waved at the manager over my shoulder, a wide smirk on my face. It was such a pleasure to watch other people be ordered around by Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

We stepped outside into the sunshine, and I stretched, cranking my neck.

"So...how long do you think they'll need?"

He just gave me a look.

I grinned. "Well...point taken. After that conversation, they'll probably be quick about it."

"They will likely still require a few days. Lamentable as it may be, mail does not travel from one island to another instantly."

He looked as though he were personally offended by the fact.

"Don't worry." I patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I have no doubt someone will invent teleporting mail boats someday, just so you won't have to waste more of your precious time."

He sent me another look. One of those looks.

"Ehem..." I cleared my throat hurriedly. All right, time to change the subject. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"Now?" He cocked his head, and gestured at the bank we'd just left. "Now we wait."

I blinked. That was all?

"But as you know," he continued before I could protest, "I am not a man who likes to remain idle. Especially not when I have a job to do." Patting the briefcase full of money in his hand, he sent me a chilling look. "We've been paid to take care of our employer's fleet, have we not? Well, then..." His hand slid under his tailcoat, coming to rest on the pistol hidden there. "Let's take care of them."

I didn't even try and suppress the grin spreading over my face. "Oh yes. Let's."

***

When we got back to the ship, the whole crew was waiting for us, arrayed on the deck. Their eyes went wide as they caught sight of the large, tinkling briefcase clutched under Mr Ambrose's arms. Seems like our bodyguards hadn't shared recent events with their fellow sailors.

"Holy smoke, Captain!" Jackal gestured at the briefcase. "Is that filled with what I think?"

In answer, Mr Ambrose merely shook the briefcase, eliciting a tinkling of coins. A lot of coins.

"Bloody frigging...! Where did you get that, Captain?"

Cocking his head, Mr Ambrose gave him a level look. "I went to a bank."

There was a moment of silence—then cheers broke out all across the deck.

I covered my face with one hand.

"Atta boy, Captain!" someone shouted.

"All alone! He went for a bank robbery all alone?"

"Our captain is a real tough guy!"

"And little Freddy, too! So manly!"

Behind my hand, I felt my eyebrows twitch. Manly? I should probably have been flattered that my disguise was working this well, but, come on! Calling a pregnant lady manly?

Enough was enough. The first thing I was going to do when I got back to England was get a dress decorated in nice, cheerfully-coloured ♀ symbols.

"What next, Captain?" someone asked eagerly. "What are we gonna do?"

"Not here." Shaking his head, Mr Ambrose jabbed a thumb at the docks, where people were gathering and whispering. Perhaps our oh-so-intelligent pirate friends shouldn't have loudly shouted about bank robberies. "Raise the anchor. Set sail immediately."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Grinning like a Cheshire cat with a pot of cream, the first mate raced off. Moments later, the sails unfolded, and the ship jerked forward, moving away from the pier and out onto the open ocean. Not a moment too soon, either. Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed a man in uniform rush onto the pier, gesticulating wildly.

"I think we should go faster."

"Indeed." Mr Ambrose gave a nod. "There's just one problem with that. This ship runs on wind."

Jabbing his ribs, I gestured at the sails. "Then take a deep breath and blow!"

Half-turning towards me, he sent me an intense look. "I shall leave blowing to you."

Did he...?

Did Mr Rikkard Ambrose just make a dirty...?

He did. Oh boy, he did. Suddenly, I felt my mouth dry, and couldn't keep my eyes from roaming up and down his body. We were only feet away from the Captain's cabin, where we had "changed" earlier today. Hm...I felt pretty sweaty. Maybe the both of us should "change" again?

Boom!

Whirling around, I stared at the harbour, just in time to see smoke from an old-fashioned cannon that had been rolled down the pier.

All right. Sail away now, fun times later!

"Prepare the cannons!" Mr Ambrose barked. "Be ready for them to send a ship after us!"

I stood there, full of tension, staring at the activity in the distant harbour. But, eventually, it vanished beyond the horizon, and no ship set out to follow us. A breath of relief escaped me, and I relaxed. From behind me, I heard footsteps approaching, and I felt the presence of someone behind me. A very familiar someone.

"I do not often wish for things I cannot get," an icy voice entered my ear. "But I really wish I could hold you in my arms right now."

I smirked. "Your own fault, Captain Rockface. Who told you to fall in love with the woman you regularly force to crossdress?"

I could practically feel his burning cold gaze trying to freeze the back of my neck.

"Indeed, Mr Linton. We shall have to remedy that when we return and spend some time at home, with you in...appropriate attire."

I suddenly got the feeling that there was going to be a lot of lingerie in my future. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

I can't wait to get home!

But first...

A hard glint entered my eyes as I gazed out over the ocean. "So...we have been paid for guard duty, have we not?" Half-turning, I sent him a smile. "Where exactly are those nice people we are supposed to help and protect?"

Translation: If I have to wait another week or more to find out who tried to hurt my baby, I want to vent in the meantime. Where are the bloody ships? Burn! Burn! Mwhahahaha!

No, I was not vindictive at all.

Mr Ambrose studied for a long moment—then nodded. Without bothering to give anything more as a reply, he turned towards the crew.

"Hard to port!" he shouted. "Make all sail!"

"Aye aye, Captain!"

As a fresh breeze hit my face, I smiled at the brilliantly blue ocean and decided: it was a good day to be a pirate bride. Now all that was missing was an opportunity to let off some steam.

Roughly one hour later, the patron saint of pissed off pregnant women smiled on me.

"Ship ahoy!" the lookout shouted from the crow's nest. "Ship ahoy to starboard!

The ship was anchored at a natural harbour next to a tiny village on an island that seemed even tinier. It clearly wasn't a vibrant trading hub, and there could be only one reason for a ship to anchor there: to wait for someone. Like, say, an armed hired escort.

"Come up alongside that ship!" Mr Ambrose ordered. "Close enough for us to speak."

"Aye aye, Captain!"

Pirates rushed to shorten the sails. The ship slowed down and, as the anchor plunged into the water, jerked to a halt next to the other vessel.

"Finally!" A beefy man appeared on the deck of the merchant ship, stalking towards the railing. "We've been waiting here for five days already! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Don't you realize that these waters are infested with pirates?"

It was only years of learning from Mr Rikkard Ambrose that made it possible for me to keep my face straight. "We were aware, yes."

"Well, then what are you waiting for? Get moving! The sooner we reach a safe harbour, the better! That is..." The man's eyes narrowed. "...if you are the protection we've been promised?"

"Indeed we are, Sir," I told the man with a bow of the head, this time not hiding my smile. "And I do apologize for the delay. Wasted time is a crime, I've been reliably informed."

I flinched ever so slightly when I felt my husband step hard on my toes, but my smile didn't waver.

"Ah, where are my manners? This is my Captain, the one who shall be escorting you through these dangerous waters."

Mr Ambrose gave a nod. "Pleasure."

It most likely really is. Though we probably shouldn't mention why. Plundering can be such fun!

"Aye." The other captain simply gave a grunt. "My name's Davis. Captain Davis. Now get your arses moving! We've got a schedule, you know?"

"Oh yes." Mr Ambrose's eyes glittered coldly. "We do."

He glanced towards the "port" we were anchored at, and I followed his gaze—only to see nothing more than a single, half-rotten pier, and a scruffy fisherman on the beach. Said fisherman's fishing line was twitching, but that didn't seem to disturb his slumber in the least. No one else was around. Not even a single eyewitness.

I shared a glance with Mr Ambrose. He gave me an inconspicuous nod. Turning back to Captain Davis, I sent him another friendly smile. After all, I was just a harmless, jolly little ship's cook, right?

"Say, Captain, could we come aboard for a moment? We have to answer to our employer, and we'd like to ensure that the goods are in good condition before we set out."

The Captain shrugged. "Do what you've gotta do. It's no skin off my nose." And, without another word, he turned around to lead the way to the store room.

Striding forward, Mr Rikkard Ambrose swung his leg over the railing and onto the other ship. Then he turned and held his hand out towards me. I strode up to him, half a dozen smirking pirates on my heels.

"Same routine as always?" I enquired with a smirk.

He answered with a simple nod. "The very same."

My smirk widened. Time to have fun and be a pirate! I pity the poor fool who tries to catch us.

***

Somewhere in an inn's bathroom, a big, bearded man with his feet in a tub full of steaming water sneezed abruptly.

"S-see, Mr Karim, Sir?" one of the sailors who sat next to him exclaimed, teeth chattering. "I t-told you we must have caught a cold."

"Shut up, you!"

"A-aye, Mr Karim, Sir!"

"And tomorrow we'll be out on the sea again, looking for those pirates!"

"Aye aye, Sir!"

--------------------------------------------

My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

The use of the name "John Doe" might have surprised some of you who probably know it from modern cop shows. But, surprisingly, the use of the name "John Doe" for unknown individuals is a tradition that goes back all the way to legal documents from the reign of King Edward III of England (1327–1377). It seems that, even back in the Middle Ages, lawyers didn't like blank spaces on their documents.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob