In Port Royal, the air inside the Governor's office turned heavy the moment the doors swung open.
Boots marched in—measured, disciplined, final.
Governor Swann looked up from his desk just in time to see soldiers fan out across the room, muskets leveled, sabers drawn. At their center stood Beckett, gloves immaculate, expression polite in the way only dangerous men ever managed.
"What—" Governor Swann began, rising to his feet.
"Please," Beckett interrupted smoothly, lifting a hand. "Do sit down, Governor. I'd hate for this to become… unpleasant."
Swann's jaw tightened. "By whose authority do you storm my office like this?"
Beckett smiled and produced a folded document, placing it gently on the desk as if it were a courtesy, not a threat.
"By the authority of His Majesty's Crown," he said. "And by extension—mine."
Swann glanced at the seal. His blood ran cold.
"This is outrageous," he said. "I've served the Crown faithfully for years."
"Of course you have," Beckett agreed easily. "Which makes this all the more disappointing."
He paced the room slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
"The Crown believes," Beckett said evenly, "that you aided Jack Sparrow's escape—and in doing so, betrayed your duties."
"I did not betray anyone," Governor Swann shot back, standing his ground.
"That," Beckett replied coolly, "is for us to determine. Until then, you are relieved of your duties as governor."
A beat of silence.
Then a calm voice came from behind them.
"Must everything begin with shackles and soldiers?"
All heads turned.
Daniel stood near the doorway, unhurried, expression mild—as if he'd merely wandered in late to a tedious meeting.
Beckett's eyes narrowed, then curved into a thin smile. "Ah. You."
"And you must be the man who enjoys rearranging other people's lives," Daniel said pleasantly. "Perhaps we can avoid all this unpleasantness."
Beckett studied him for a long moment. "And how would you propose that?"
"Simple," Daniel replied. "You're investigating because you want something. Tell us what it is. We cooperate. No theatre. No broken careers."
Beckett considered him—truly considered—then lifted a hand. "Leave us," he ordered.
The soldiers withdrew. Only Mercer remained.
Beckett turned back to Daniel. "It's refreshing," he said softly, "to speak with someone who understands leverage."
"I try," Daniel said.
"I want Jack Sparrow's compass," Beckett said without hesitation.
Daniel tilted his head. "Just the compass?"
A pause.
"Not the heart of Davy Jones?"
Beckett's gaze sharpened. "You put great faith in sailors' myths.", not agreeing that this was his final goal.
"Funny," Daniel said lightly. "I travel by sea often. I've seen the Flying Dutchman with my own eyes. And I know the East India Company wants the oceans clean—no pirates, no chaos."
He stepped closer. "What better way than holding the heart of the man who commands the sea itself?"
Beckett didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Daniel smiled faintly. "Still, if all you want is the compass, I can deliver it. Although," he added casually, "I already know where Davy Jones's heart is. Honestly, that might be faster. Jack has the habit of… wandering."
Beckett studied him in silence.
This was too convenient. Too clean. The sort of offer men waited years for—and usually paid for in blood. And yet here it was, placed neatly at his feet.
"Very well," Beckett said at last. "Bring me the heart of Davy Jones."
His eyes flicked briefly to Governor Swann. "And in return, the Governor will be reinstated to his duties."
Swann stiffened but said nothing.
Daniel nodded. "Fair enough. But it won't be immediate. I'll need a week."
"A week," Beckett repeated. Then he inclined his head. "You have it."
***
On the deck of the Black Pearl, the sea rolled gently beneath a starless sky.
Daniel leaned against the rail, explaining his plan in broad strokes, clearly enjoying himself far more than the subject deserved. Jack listened with one brow raised, occasionally glancing away as if reconsidering several life choices at once.
"You know," Jack said at last, "sometimes I can't decide whether I'm incredibly lucky to have you as a friend… or profoundly doomed."
Daniel smiled. "Both can be true."
Jack sighed. "Fair."
Nearby, Will stood quietly, a little happier now that he had spoken to his father again.
Daniel turned to him. "So," he said lightly, "are you ready, Captain Turner?"
Will blinked. "For what?"
Daniel's smile widened just a little. "For your first act as captain of the Flying Dutchman."
Jack folded his arms. "Please tell me it doesn't involve me being tied to something again."
Daniel ignored him and looked straight at Will.
"To sink your first ship."
*****
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