"What do you think?" asked Whelp.
Virginia Pear had a fiery look in her eyes as she spat out her words.
"I think you're a very sick man."
She sat bound in a chair upon the top deck on Whelp's private boat, an old steamship that had been smuggled piece by piece and assembled on the central rivers of the Dark Continent, roaming them like a wayward serpent in need of constant prey.
"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm talking about my boat. It's custom made, you know, with a larger cargo space than you would typically find on vessels of this size."
"That isn't cargo you carry. They're human beings."
"Dear madam, I don't engage in this business for reasons of hatred and immorality. I care nothing about socio-political climates and the current fashions in domestic aid and human rights. No, you see, I'm in this purely for the money."
"You disgust me," replied Virginia with a snarl upon her lips.
"As you've reminded me several times already, but that doesn't change the fact that slave trading is still a very lucrative business. Even now, when the major European powers are busy outlawing the practice, there are still private citizens abroad who wish to deal with my kind, and they pay large sums of money for the product that I offer."
"And what are you to do with me? Sell me to the highest bidder? Throw my body to the wild animals of this continent? Force me to become your bride?"
"All very tempting, but no. I'm not one for such melodrama. To be perfectly honest, I haven't quite decided your fate yet. I do hope you won't be joining dear Thomas, though. That was such a shame, and I took no joy in leaving him to die like that."
"He'll survive," she muttered. "He'll survive, and he'll come after you."
A smile crept slowly upon Whelp's face, starting first as a light twitch in one corner of his mouth and broadly expanding as the lips parted and a roaring laugh burst from his maw.
"Tell me, Ms. Pear, how much do you know about Thomas Huxley?"
"Only what he's told me."
"Then every word was a lie," he said, taking great joy at the expulsion of his own words. It was a feeling he desperately attempted to savor, like the aftertaste of a fine wine fading rapidly from the tongue. "Thomas Huxley is--pardon me, was--an old associate of mine. We had our fair share of dealings and run-ins and, frankly, I'm legitimately surprised he never made it into the slave trade himself. He's a wicked man, Ms. Pear. Your hero is little more than a common thief."
Virginia said nothing. Her breaths became deep and rapid, as if a sudden jolt of fear or panic had stricken her chest. Beneath the tightly strung ropes, her body expanded and contracted.
"You're awfully quiet, Ms. Pear. Have you come to realize that what I'm saying is true? Have you put together all those little pieces, all those little mysteries that he left behind, those fragments of his stories that never quite seemed to fit into a singular frame? You've been had, my dear, though do take some comfort in knowing you were had by one of the best."
Whelp paced across the deck, circling around Virginia with a smile on his face as he watched his crew busy themselves with the navigation and propulsion of his boat. He quite felt like the commander of a navy, no matter how small. It was a feeling of utter power.
"I do wish I knew what he'd been up to here. There was an angle to it, I'm sure. Thomas could always play the angles, but then he had to be stupid. Oh well, it's a pity, and they say you should never speak ill of the dead."
Virginia Pear had a fiery look in her eyes as she spat out her words.
"I think you're a very sick man."
She sat bound in a chair upon the top deck on Whelp's private boat, an old steamship that had been smuggled piece by piece and assembled on the central rivers of the Dark Continent, roaming them like a wayward serpent in need of constant prey.
"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm talking about my boat. It's custom made, you know, with a larger cargo space than you would typically find on vessels of this size."
"That isn't cargo you carry. They're human beings."
"Dear madam, I don't engage in this business for reasons of hatred and immorality. I care nothing about socio-political climates and the current fashions in domestic aid and human rights. No, you see, I'm in this purely for the money."
"You disgust me," replied Virginia with a snarl upon her lips.
"As you've reminded me several times already, but that doesn't change the fact that slave trading is still a very lucrative business. Even now, when the major European powers are busy outlawing the practice, there are still private citizens abroad who wish to deal with my kind, and they pay large sums of money for the product that I offer."
"And what are you to do with me? Sell me to the highest bidder? Throw my body to the wild animals of this continent? Force me to become your bride?"
"All very tempting, but no. I'm not one for such melodrama. To be perfectly honest, I haven't quite decided your fate yet. I do hope you won't be joining dear Thomas, though. That was such a shame, and I took no joy in leaving him to die like that."
"He'll survive," she muttered. "He'll survive, and he'll come after you."
A smile crept slowly upon Whelp's face, starting first as a light twitch in one corner of his mouth and broadly expanding as the lips parted and a roaring laugh burst from his maw.
"Tell me, Ms. Pear, how much do you know about Thomas Huxley?"
"Only what he's told me."
"Then every word was a lie," he said, taking great joy at the expulsion of his own words. It was a feeling he desperately attempted to savor, like the aftertaste of a fine wine fading rapidly from the tongue. "Thomas Huxley is--pardon me, was--an old associate of mine. We had our fair share of dealings and run-ins and, frankly, I'm legitimately surprised he never made it into the slave trade himself. He's a wicked man, Ms. Pear. Your hero is little more than a common thief."
Virginia said nothing. Her breaths became deep and rapid, as if a sudden jolt of fear or panic had stricken her chest. Beneath the tightly strung ropes, her body expanded and contracted.
"You're awfully quiet, Ms. Pear. Have you come to realize that what I'm saying is true? Have you put together all those little pieces, all those little mysteries that he left behind, those fragments of his stories that never quite seemed to fit into a singular frame? You've been had, my dear, though do take some comfort in knowing you were had by one of the best."
Whelp paced across the deck, circling around Virginia with a smile on his face as he watched his crew busy themselves with the navigation and propulsion of his boat. He quite felt like the commander of a navy, no matter how small. It was a feeling of utter power.
"I do wish I knew what he'd been up to here. There was an angle to it, I'm sure. Thomas could always play the angles, but then he had to be stupid. Oh well, it's a pity, and they say you should never speak ill of the dead."
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