Legal Note: I do not own any of the characters associated with Pirates of the Caribbean or the Maltese Falcon. I do not have any legal right to use them or any other proprietary words originating from these movies or books. This story was done just for the fun of it. Not for profit. If you like it please tell me. If you don't like it please tell me why with particulars but not excessive detail. Any one who wants to rip on my style or me just to make them self feel better is really only polishing their wand and their statements will receive the due amount of interest (i.e. NONE). And finally before any one brings it up: I do know my punctuation stinks. I just don't care.

Summary: PotC/Maltese Falcon cross over. Pre- Movie. Captain Sparrow and First Mate Barbossa are forced to recover a certain rare statue.

Captain Sparrow and the Falcon

Chapter 1: Of Fat Men and Falcons

Captain Jack Sparrow was thinking how ironic life could be. One minute you're contemplating a night raid on a small port town on a small island in the Mediterranean Sea and the next you're being held prisoner in your own cabin. This of course was not his only thought but it had suddenly jumped from the crowd to stick its tongue out at him. His mind turned back to the scene in front of him as a fat man in a fine woven frock coat entered the cabin and took Jack's chair behind the large table normally used as a desk.

"What do you know, sir, about the Order of the hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, also called the Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of St. John of Jerusalem of Rhodes and of Malta and other things?" the fat man asked without preamble as he looked over Jack and his first mate Hector Barbossa. He produced three goblets from a pocket and a small bottle of port wine.

"I know they fought the Arabs," Jack said in a nonchalant, lazy drawl. Truth was that the subject interested him very little. But since he was surrounded by a lot of men with pistols Jack thought it best to be polite.

"They were crusaders," Barbossa put in. His tone clearly implying something about Jack's knowledge of history. "They fought at Acre in Galilee. Possessed the island of Rhodes for a time."

"Very good." The fat man's voice sounded approving as he carefully poured even measures into each goblet. "In 1539 these Crusading Knights persuaded the Emperor Charles V to give them the Island of Malta. The very island some ten miles north of us now. Charles made but one condition. They were to pay him, each year on All Souls Day, the tribute of a falcon in acknowledgment that Malta was still under Spain. They were to send this payment to his viceroy in Sicily. Do you follow me?"

The prisoners glanced at each other and nodded. One of the guards was motioned to give two of the goblets to the prisoners. They accepted them. Barbossa sniffed his but neither drank.

"Have you any conception of the extreme wealth of the order at that time?" The fat man got out a pipe and filled it. He lit it from the candle burning on the table and sat back making the chair creek under him. "They were rolling in wealth, sir. For years they had taken from the East only God knows what spoils of gems, precious metals, silks, ivories, sir. The wealth of a thousand plundered Muslim princes. We all know that the Holy Wars to them were largely a matter of loot. The order was founded on charity but the knights wanted wealth, sir. And they got it."

In spite of the drawn pistols and naked blades Jack was growing interested.

"The knights were profoundly grateful to the Emperor Charles for his generosity toward them. They hit upon the happy thought of sending him for the first year's tribute not an insignificant live bird but a golden falcon encrusted from head to feet with the finest gems in their coffers." A smile creased the face of the fat man. "They sent this foot-high jeweled bird to Charles, who was then in Spain. They sent it in a galley commanded by a member of the Order. It never reached Spain. A famous admiral of buccaneers took the knight's galley and the bird. In 1713 it turned up in Sicily. After that it disappeared again. No one knew where it had got to."

"So what's this got to do with us?" Jack asked calmly. "We're just honest merchants."

"Hardly, sir." The fat man's smile broadened. An indulgent look came over his face as though he were talking to a favored son. "You are Captain Sparrow the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean. Your associate there is Captain Barbossa. A Pirate Lord in his own right. I believe it's the Caspian Sea is it not?"

Barbossa's yellowed eyes narrowed and he nodded.

"You have sense, sir," the fat man said to Barbossa. "So that introductions can be at least somewhat proper. Let me introduce myself. I am Sir Kaspar Sydney. A member of the Order."

"All right." Jack's eyes had narrowed too. He didn't like the situation and the politeness he knew masked something far more than just a history lesson. "Now we know each other. Proper introductions and all. You're not here as a school master, Sir Kaspar. What is it you want?"

"By God, sir, you're the man for me!" Sir Kaspar chuckled. "I like a man who speaks plainly. I truly do. Here's to plain speech, gentlemen." Sir Kaspar raised his goblet and waited for the two pirates to join him in the gesture. All three sipped. The port was quite good. Jack and Hector both took a second slightly larger swallow.

"Well, Cpt. Sparrow, you ask what I want. What do I want? Simply this: I want the falcon. Oh I know you haven't got it. But I also know who does."

"Beggin' your pardon, Sir Kaspar." Barbossa ignored the irritated look Jack shot at him. "If ye know who's got it why come to us? Why board our ship?"

"By God. Another plain speaker. No wonder the two of you signed articles. But to answer your question; I need agents, Cpt. Barbossa. I must be circumspect in this matter," Sir Kaspar said puffing out a cloud of smoke and taking another drink from his goblet. He smiled as unconsciously they did the same. "I want the Falcon but I do not want anyone to know I have it when you bring it to me. I'd be faced with too many problems. Not the least of which would be keeping it. There are others in the Order who would be far too interested in what I want it for. I do not wish them to be involved, sir."

"When we bring it to you?" Jack's mind was racing. Thoughts of the jewel incrusted statue danced enticingly before his mind's eye. Sir Kaspar nodded in reply.

"Why, Sir Kaspar, would we bring it to you once we've got it?" Barbossa asked. His thoughts were running the same course as Jack's.

"Ah. A very judicious question. Why indeed? Because, captain, like all men the two of you want to live." Sir Kaspar drew on his pipe with narrowed eyes. The folds of his cheeks rising to nearly hide them as he smiled a not so comforting smile.

"Meaning you'll kill us if we don't agree to fetch this falcon for you." Jack scanned the guards and gaged his chances of making it out of the cabin. They weren't good.

"As to that. I know that you could easily agree to the bargain and then simply betray me. Even with the men and ships at my disposal you could slip through any cordon I might throw up. But I don't need to do that. I have a far better guarantee than your word." Sir Kaspar drained his goblet and resumed puffing on his pipe. A sword suddenly clattered to the deck and the two pirates turned to see one of the guards clasp his chest. The man's lips were turning blue and he was going weak at the knees. Suddenly he collapsed in a fit of kicks and jerks. Froth came from his mouth and he voided his bowels filling the cabin with a foul sewer stink. When the contractions had stilled Sir Kaspar signed two of his men to take the body away. Jack and Barbossa turned questioning looks on the knight.

"Poison, gentlemen," Sir Kaspar explained. "I discovered he was working for a competitor. Earlier this evening I gave him a slightly larger dose than I just gave you. By God, I couldn't have timed it any better if I'd tried!"

The pirates in twin motions looked into their nearly empty goblets and then back at the smiling knight. Their expressions a mix of fear, revulsion and fury.

"You wont die just now," Sir Kaspar said smoothly. A wintery look had come over him. "It will take no less than seven days for the dose I administered to you. No more than ten."

"Ye've had the same as us," Barbossa said with a not entirely firm tone.

"Antidote. I have one. I will provide you with the same once you have placed the falcon in my hands." Sir Kaspar puffed on his pipe again. The pirates were silent. All thoughts of wealth had gone from their heads. "I give you my word, gentlemen, that if you succeed and I have the falcon you will not die. I am a man of my word."

"And we should trust the man that poisoned us? Why?" Barbossa spat.

"Because, sir, you have nothing at all to lose." Sir Kaspar turned that indulgent look on them again. "I'll sweeten the pot for you. Should you return in time with the falcon I will not only give you the antidote but pay you its weight in Spanish doubloons. Not a trifle, gentlemen."

"And where is the falcon now?" Jack asked. New thoughts were tangling with thoughts of poison.

"In a place that I believe Cpt. Barbossa is at least passingly familiar with." A gleam shone in the fat knight's eyes as he said this. "Tripoli. The house of the corsair known as Alamgir the Merciless."