Free Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences by Pip Ballantine Page B

rises or he sinks under the table from too much drink. Unfortunately, the former is more likely than the latter.
    But if I want access to the hold, there’s only one place I can go.
    When I knock on the door to the captain’s quarters, I’m still trying to think of a better plan. I’m in full military dress. That should count for something.
    A serving man ushers me in at about the same moment another arrives with tea things.
    The captain is already seated. He feeds bits of cake as it arrives on the table to the little white and brown dog in his lap. He doesn’t rise when I enter and barely spares me a glance. He is in no mood for games.
    “Seat yourself, Major.”
    “Gordon, sir,” I say, trying not to bristle. I’m quite certain he knows who I am. But this is his domain and apparently he will lord it over us as he sees fit.
    The serving man pours me tea, and the clean bergamot scent uplifts me almost immediately.
    “Look, Gordon,” he says, “I hear a man died and you are saying that there is some sort of tiger or such nonsense on board.” He lets the little dog lick his fingers before he picks up a teacake and pops it in his bearded mouth.
    “Yes, sir,” I say.
    “Well,” he picks up his teacup and eyes me over its gold-ringed rim before he takes a swallow. “I sincerely doubt that a large cat did this. But I honestly don’t care whether there’s a leopard on board or not. I want you to find it and dispose of it.”
    “Sir?”
    “That is to say…find whatever did this—man or beast—and kill it. Before it harms anyone else. We’ll make a big show of getting rid of the leopard so that everyone will know they’re safe.”
    I swallow. The lapdog looks at me with disdain, and I notice the little red bows tied around its floppy ears.
    “Sir, let me see if I understand correctly. You want me to find something and kill it and make a big show of disposing of it, regardless of whether it’s the cause of the problem?”
    The captain leans forward. The little dog grunts in disgust and slides off his lap. “Do you know what happens on board a ship when mass hysteria takes hold, Major?”
    I do. And it doesn’t just happen on board ships. It can happen in barracks, in the jungle, anywhere people are enclosed.
    “People die, Major. Lots of people. We need to send a message to the killer that we will deal swiftly with such actions. I think you’re just the man to do it.”
    “Why?” I say.
    “This leopard thing was your idea. You find it and take care of it.”
    I suppress a sigh. “I will need access to the hold. Most of my things are packed away there.” Not to mention the storage crates where something—or someone—might hide. But I still believe, despite the captain’s doubts, that I’m right. I saw a large cat on the deck. The sailor’s wounds are the sort such a creature would make. “You should advise people to keep their berths locked and not go abroad at night,” I add.
    “Fine,” he says. “But I want this dealt with swiftly. The longer people feel unsafe, the more hazardous they become.”
    There seems to be no room for further discussion. “Yes, sir.”
    I dislike the way he commands me. I am not, after all, in the Navy or any other such marine division. He truly has no call to enlist me in giving aid. But he is right in that something must be done, and I will not shirk my duty to protect the citizens of the Empire.
    I have a gut-wrenching feeling that my solution may not be as neat as the captain would like it to be.
    After I leave his quarters, I return to the hold where the boatswain still stands, arms folded.
    “Let me pass,” I say.
    He shakes his head.
    “Captain’s orders, boatswain! Send the cabin boy to confirm, if you don’t believe me.”
    That seems to do it for him. He knows I wouldn’t say that unless it was true. He also knows he can find me if I’m lying.
    He grumbles something rather rude and deprecatory and steps aside.
    I venture down into the hold. I